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“Shh, good boy, Lucifer,” he whispered. “Just a nice walk tonight.”
The horse settled down and then headed out with a light trot. The memories of his youth attempted to overtake him again. He tried to push them back to the past where they belonged, but tonight they wouldn’t go quietly.
Perhaps it was the fact that the anniversary of the duke’s death was only a week away. And the anniversary of his mother’s death. His mother had been gone for three years now. Giovanna Andretta Kingsley died only two weeks after his natural father killed himself, and Simon’s world forever changed.
He’d known since he turned sixteen that the duke was his natural father, but very few people were aware of it. The duke’s will revealed his true parentage to the world...or least England. After one particularly bad beating by his stepfather, his mother admitted she’d tricked Albert into marriage after discovering she was with child by the duke. She thought knowing the truth would help him understand why Albert didn’t love him. It made no difference. By that time, Simon had suffered enough.
Deep in his memories, Simon blinked and realized he had almost missed The Royal Pigeon. He never did learn where Hardy came up with that dreadful name. Simon much preferred the simplicity of Hell and the irony of its location in an old church. After reining in, he dismounted and tossed the reins to a boy there. “Hold him for me. I won’t take long.”
“Yes, sir.”
Simon walked directly inside since Hardy didn’t care who came into his gaming room. Wealthy or pauper, as long as you had blunt to play the games, that was all that mattered. The gaming room was slow for a Saturday night, most likely due to Lady Huntley’s ball. He found Hardy standing near the faro table, watching the action like a hawk ready to strike down a rat for any impropriety in the game.
“Hardy, I need to speak with you alone.”
Hardy looked up with a frown and then walked away from the gaming table. “What’s wrong, King?”
“In your office, if you please.”
“I hope this means you’ve reconsidered my offer,” Hardy said with a laugh.
“No.”
Hardy glanced over at him as they walked out of the gaming room toward his office in the back. After entering the room, Hardy asked, “What’s this about?”
Simon slammed the door shut and stared at him. “You have to ask? I know what you have been doing the past few weeks.”
Hardy poured two glasses of whisky and handed one to Simon. “Before you go off and do something foolish, drink this.”
Simon drank it down in one gulp. “Why would you do it?”
“Do what, King?”
“Send cheaters into Hell. Did you think if my profits lessened, I’d be more willing to sell?”
Hardy stepped closer and glared at him. “I did no such thing.”
“Liar.” Simon swung, landing a punch on Hardy’s chin. Hardy struck back with a jab to Simon’s stomach. With a groan, Simon retaliated with a left blow to Hardy’s belly and then another to his chin, which only gained him a shot to the nose and then his chin.
“Enough, King,” Hardy yelled as he stepped back. “I taught you to fight...although I believe you have been practicing.”
“Why did you send Smith tonight?” Simon demanded.
“King, sit down and tell me what this is about.”
Simon sat down and then reached for his handkerchief. Holding it to his nose, he realized that Hardy’s fighting skills had not diminished in the last ten years. “You better not have broken my nose, you bastard.”
“Nothing more than you deserved for coming in here like that.” Hardy poured another glass of whisky for them both. “Drink.”
Simon took the offered glass, and this time, he sipped at the smoky drink. He closed his eyes for a long moment before saying, “For the past fortnight, I have seen a huge increase in the number of cheats at Hell.”
“And you thought I’d sent them? Have you lost your mind?”
“Quite possibly,” he replied, thinking back to his encounter with Miss Drake this evening. “If not you, then who?”
“It’s not just you.” Hardy sipped his whisky. “I’m seeing more cheats too. That’s why I was on the floor when you entered. I don’t like this, King.”
Simon looked over and noticed the worry in his mentor’s eyes. “What do you think is going on?”
