Page 6 of Claimed By Her Forbidden Duke
It was Roland who sneered at him. “And who are you to make such accusations, walking into our game in your polished boots and your fine, expensive coat? Do you look down on us? Accuse us to make yourself feel better?—”
“Hush,” hissed Gardener. “He is the Duke of Blackstone.”
At that, Roland’s face went pale, and Edmund only stared back at him calmly. Promptly, he took up the empty seat at the table, eyeing each man in turn.
“Your Grace,” Haddon said quietly, bowing his head. “I imagine we have nothing of use at our table for the likes of y?—”
With a hard slam of his palm to shut the man up, for hewouldget what he’d come for tonight, Edmund gathered the cards. Restarting their game, he let them wait in anticipation as he shuffled the deck and dealt five hands.
One by one, they were taken, the men exchanging uneasy glances, knowing who sat in their company.
“Gentlemen, I will not waste my time, nor yours, so I will get straight to it.” His eyes narrowed on each of them. Fear flashed in their eyes, and he knew they thought he was there to rat them out. “I am looking for information on James Logan. I am sure with your… operations in and out of London’s docks, and to wider waters, you will know something.”
“Never heard of the man, Your Grace,” Roland spoke up boldly, shaking his head without a second thought.
“Same here,” Gardener added, taking a great interest in his set of cards. His eyes met Edmund’s for a moment before he skittishly looked away. “Don’t know the fella.”
“And you?” Edmund regarded the man. “Haddon?”
Haddon swallowed. “I keep to myself,” he told him, shrugging. “I never got involved in shady dealings.”
Edmund took a moment to compose himself. Stone walls when he wished for open doors frustrated him. Men not knowing their places frustrated him. It was one simple request. Was London’s underground society so dim that they could not follow simple orders?
“I understand you do not,” he said, shifting his gaze to Haddon as he tossed his first card onto the pile. “However, I have staff ready to investigate that ship of yours at the docks. I am sure they would not find anything to contradict your claim.”
“No, Your Grace,” Haddon answered—lied. “Nothing at all. Clean as a whistle, I am.”
“Continue dealing your hands,” Edmund ordered, looking around at the four men. “And as you do, you will listen very, very carefully. Haddon, I know you transport illegal substances to and from Europe. I am sure the constables and the Crown will be most interested to know that, and perhaps will revoke your merchant license. After all, you are so low-ranked in the merchant world that nobody would truly miss your wares.”
He put more cards down, winning against his opponents with each new placement, as he continued.
“Roland, your so-called art studio is lovely, I am sure, but what will your uncle, as the benefactor and investor, say if he hears about the true goings-on behind the canvas? The women might not all be willingly working within those rooms, no?”
“Your Grace—” Roland began, but Edmund cut him off with a glare before turning on Gardener.
“You. Oh, I heard you boasting before Haddon here spoke of his transportation business. You are right in the midst of it all with him. Aiding and being complicit in such dealings does not bode well. Do you not have a daughter you are attempting to introduce into Society, Gardener? It would be terrible for her should news of her father’s shameful involvement in such a business spread far and wide, all but chasing you both out of every respectable business and city nearby.”
“Come now, Your Grace?—”
He cut off Gardener with a sharp, furious look before turning to the other man. “And you. Admittedly, I do not know you, therefore I believe you hold no importance. However, all it takes is one small inquiry and I shall have your secrets splashed across every scandal sheet, should I find out you are not a man of honor. If these men are your company tonight, I do not have great hope for you.”
Silence fell over the table. He knew at least one man there was titled, likely hiding out in a quiet tavern for some peace, or because he needed to forget his status for a plethora of reasons.
“As I said,” Edmund continued, “play your hands, or I shall play them for you in quite a different way if I do not get the information I requested.”
When they did not—too scared, or too stunned—Edmund set down his cards with more force than needed and slowly swept his attention across all four of the men.
“James Logan. Tell me all you know, or you might find my words are not mere suggestions, but threats awaiting action.”
“I—” the man he hadn’t recognized began. “I heard he had a whole staff of men. Men whom people wouldn’t even suspect. You know, do-gooders to everyone else, but shady in his company.”
Edmund’s jaw clenched. That was not the most obscure knowledge; it was already something he knew.
He waved his hand dismissively before looking at Roland. “And you?”
“All I know is that Logan had holdings everywhere. Spain, France, even the Caribbean.”
A shiver ran through Edmund at the mention of the Caribbean. Again, it was something he knew. Something he knew rather intimately.
