Page 36 of Claimed By Her Forbidden Duke
Quickly, all three of the men nodded, turning back to their game and pawing at the coin bag.
Edmund moved back from the table, stalking back down the main room to the exit.
“The same goes for you too,” he snarled at Benjamin once they were outside.
“What?” His cousin laughed incredulously. “Threats of violence to ensure my silence?”
Edmund glared at him. “I told you this was not a place for the likes of you.”
“And yet here I am,” Benjamin insisted. “I know you think I am soft and that I have hands that are uncalloused by life, simply because I was not—” He cut himself off.
Edmund stepped forward. “Finish,” he dared.
Benjamin’s eyes widened, and he glanced down the street, into the dark, before settling his gaze back on Edmund.
“Cousin, you have done and seen things during these last seven years that I cannot even hope to imagine. But just because I have not been through the same ordeal, does not mean I will tell on you or run at the slightest hint of danger. I am not weak. I am here because Icanbe. I know you can do this alone, but you do not have to. Not anymore.”
Not anymore.
That was what caught him off-guard.
Edmund stepped back. Impatience and aggravation swirled through him with a note of genuine surprise at his cousin’s backbone.
Perhaps he had been pressing to be told that all night, perhaps not. Perhaps he just needed to make sure that his cousinwoulddefend himself.
“You will not go home?” Edmund asked one last time.
“No,” Benjamin answered.
Again, Edmund sighed, exasperated. He turned on his heel, and footsteps quickly hurried after him, scurrying like a mouse.
“You are not soft, but you truly need to work on your sneaking skills.”
Benjamin only scoffed and continued to follow him to the Amber Lantern, but it was even quieter than the other parts of the area. The lights inside were not off, but they seemed too dim for a full patronage to be inside, especially given the time of night.
Alarmed and cautious, Edmund started for the tavern’s door before he glanced back at his cousin. “Wait here.”
“But I can?—”
“Waithere,” he growled, his patience almost snapping.
The night had truly been too much to endure, and he had only a scrap of patience left. He could only hope that whatever awaited him inside the tavern did not cut that fraying thread.
Heading inside, Edmund found himself in a tavern that was very gray and lifeless. Faded booths were pressed into the walls, and old, dark wooden tables were splattered with ale spills. The windows were dusty, and it was clear that, despite the tavern not being as empty as he had initially thought, the place was not frequently used.
There was no barmaid at the counter, but he could hear someone clattering through a doorway into another part of the tavern behind the bar itself. He took in the far corners of the space, walking slowly around the wraparound counter, and came to a part of the tavern where a group of men were hunched over a table. Full pints of ale sat on the table between them.
From their hushed voices, Edmund knew he had found the right group of men.
Walking up to them, he announced his arrival. “James Logan. You will give me all the information you have on him.”
Assessing the group, he found them all equally as rough as one another, clearly from the less admirable parts of London. Ill-fitting clothing with rips adorned them, and smears of ash and bruises peppered their faces. Their hair was either overgrown or unkempt, and nothing about any of them spoke of adequacy or composure.
“Ah, will we now?” one man sneered, looking Edmund up and down. “And who are you to make demands? Fancy clothes ain’t getting you far in this place.”
“I am the Duke of Blackstone,” Edmund told them, his voice as cold as the coin they all would scamper over if he pressed one piece to the table. “And Iwillhave my information.”
“Oh, aduke?” Another sniggered. “Do they not teach you manners in your fancy schools, Duke? More money than respect, I wager.”
