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A half hour later, Gray and I are in the stairwell together, as Isla goes down to speak to Mrs. Wallace before heading out to meet her former-con-artist contact.
I look at Gray. “Am I the only one who feels like a kid sent to bed early while the grown-ups do something interesting?”
“I am not certain how ‘interesting’ Hugh’s and Isla’s tasks are, but yes, I do feel as if I have been trundled off to bed when I am not at all tired.”
“You shouldn’t put up with that, you know. You’re the man of the house.”
His lips twitch. “If that is intended to goad me into disobeying my sister, I hardly need the incentive, as I have been doing it all my life.”
“What do you suggest we do instead?”
“Find Jack. She has blocked your request for an audience, andyoushould not accept such treatment.”
I laugh softly. “Yeah, that doesn’t work with me either. I’m annoyed with Jack blowing me off, but we’re well on our way to a resolution here, and I see nothing her broadsheet-writing friend can add.”
“But do weknowthere isn’t anything the writer can add? If we have nothing else to do, and we are not tired enough to sleep, should we not pursue this potential avenue, in case it proves fruitful?”
“You have a point.”
“An excellent point. Unless you would rather rest?”
“Absolutely not.”
I don’t realize the problem until we set out. I only have one way of contacting Jack—talking to Elspeth at Halton House.
I’m taking Gray to a fight club.
I’m overreacting. It’ll be fine. Gray is an intelligent and levelheadedadult, who may be fascinated by the concept of a fight club, but knows such “entertainment” is off-limits to men like him, at least if his idea of fun is to be found in the ring rather than the spectator stands.
The British class system works both ways, and while it definitely benefits Gray, it restricts him, too. Also, there’s no reason for him to realize Halton House is a fight club, right? It won’t be active this early in the evening. I’ll make it clear to Elspeth that Gray is “with the police,” and she’ll take that as her cue to keep quiet.
Just an ordinary rooming house. That’s all. Nothing more interesting than that. Nope, nope, nope.
We arrive at the rooming house to find the front door open. A sign at the desk informs visitors that they have no rooms to let. I guess Elspeth doesn’t spend her entire day sitting here turning people away. She’s only at her post in the late evening, when she can let the right people in.
Gray stands in the foyer while I poke about. There’s not much to see. You aren’t going to leave the front door unlocked with anything of value at the desk. I pull out the sign-in book and flip through. Just pages of faded ink with more recent entries to keep up the illusion that it’s an active rooming house.
When Gray still says nothing, I glance over. Incuriosity is hardly his defining feature, yet he’s standing there, head tilted, as if he’s lost interest in his surroundings and retreated into his thoughts.
“Bare-knuckle boxing!” Gray exclaims, suddenly enough to have me wheeling.
He smiles, and it might be the closest thing to a grin I have ever seen from him. His eyes light up and his entire face animates in a way that makes my heart do a little pitter-patter. Then I realize what he’s said.
“W-what?” I say.
“It is a boxing club,” he says. “Of the wagering sort. Quite illegal.” He walks past me into the rear hall. “Do you not smell that?”
“Smell what?” I say carefully.
“Blood and sawdust. I have been to such an establishment in London with my brother. We did not stay overlong. The fighters were…” He makes a face, the smile fading. “I have no issue with the sport, of course, but they were bringing fighters from Africa. While Britain may have outlawed slavery, it still engages in practices that seem akin to it in all but name.” He glances over. “I hope they do better in your time.”
“Umm…”
He shakes his head. “In any event, when Lachlan and I realized that the fighters were not there entirely of their own free will, it quite changed our mind about staying.” He pauses. “I do hope this is not the same sort of establishment.” Another pause. “No, I doubt it is. That one was a good deal more genteel, serving a clientele who would not venture here.”
“A wealthy clientele being less likely to notice mistreated fighters.”
“Notice or care.”
