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Ken sat across from Ace,the two men in a silent stare-off.
Funny. He’d been on the other side of the desk just a few months before as Ace had pleaded for Ken to allow him his sister’s hand.
Ken hadn’t properly appreciated what a difficult chair this was to sit in. He shifted, knowing full well the actual chair was perfectly comfortable. It was the position that had him squaring his shoulders as he rolled his neck.
And then Gris walked through the door, Rush on his heels.
How wonderful.
Ace had brought them back up. That was the advantage of brothers, he supposed.
Rush sat in the chair next to him as Gris stood next to the empty hearth, leaning an elbow on the mantel. “Recovered, Boxby?”
“Mostly,” he answered, not wanting to confess, his head still pounding.
“What happened?” Ace asked with a frown.
Both Gris and Rush laughed. “Boxby came to the Hell’s Corner last night and had himself a dandy good time.”
Ken grimaced. This was not a good start. “I had a few things I was working out.”
“Such as?” Ace asked, his attention fixed on Ken.
“Looked like he and Somersworth weren’t getting along,” Gris added. “What happened there?”
Somersworth. The man was going to be furious when Ken told him about Mirabelle and the canceled trip. Ken sighed. There was nothing to done for it. “Normal disagreement among friends.”
Ace waved his hand. “We’ll talk about all that later. I called you all here because I have something professional to discuss.”
Ken straightened in surprise. He’d wanted to discuss Mirabelle, but apparently, Ace had another agenda in mind.
“What?” Rush asked. “And should I wake Tris and Fulton?”
Ace waved his hands. “No. Not necessary. It doesn’t even involve Hell’s Corner. But you know our half-brother was part owner of the other gaming hell, the Den of Sins.”
“Is something wrong with Easton?” Gris asked, not sounding particularly concerned. The half-siblings were still finding common ground even though Easton had been beyond generous in supporting Ace’s claim to the marquessate.
“No. He was more concerned for us, I think,” Ace answered, looking down at his hands on the desk.
“What do the Den of Sins, Easton, and his friends’ club have to do with us?”
Ace shook his head. “Despite not being full renovated, it was purchased by another party for a ridiculous sum.”
Silence filled the room as Ken attempted to understand what, precisely, that meant. “Bought? By whom?”
“That’s the first troubling question. No one is certain. I’d hoped to purchase the club myself, but we don’t currently have the funds.”
“What do you mean?” Rush stood, leaning over the desk. “They don’t know who their buyer is?”
“He wished to remain anonymous. Acted through a solicitor. But the solicitor mentioned to Easton that he wished to purchase Hell’s Corner as well.”
“No,” Gris said, the single word cutting through the air. His tone implied there was no room for argument.
Rush turned to him. “Why not? You’ve got your distillery. Wouldn’t you even want to hear the number?”
“My distillery is secondary to Hell’s Corner, and we all know my profit margins are slim in the gin business. All our livelihoods revolve around that club,” Gris answered. “You keep the books, Tris keeps the peace. I stock the liquor along with Fulton…”
