Page 109 of Sloth: The Fallen Earl
Chapter 28
Wakefield arrived at The Devil’s Den with one intention only: to meet with his two business partners and get some answers. What he ended up with was a several-hours-long visit with his sister, Livian, before Wakefield had his face-to-face with his two business partners in Latimer’s private suites.
Sprawled like King George IV himself, long known as Prinny, upon the King Louis XIV throne, the Earl of Dynevor stretched his legs out. “Do tell us what has brought you here this evening, Wakefield?”
“Given I own a third of the club, Dynevor, I expect my being here shouldn’t really be that much of a surprise. That is, unless you were anticipating a silent partner.”
Latimer shot his two partners a warning glance, his meaning clear. They were still in Latimer’s suites, with Livian nearby. To leave, however, would rouse her suspicion and ensure they had an additional participant in their exchange.
Wakefield let his full rage shine on through. “I’ve hired a man and found out information about the young woman whose ruin you helped coordinate,” he whispered furiously.
Dynevor smirked. “Or we could just refer to her as the woman you ruined.”
With a hiss, Wakefield stormed the room and charged at the other man.
Latimer barely intervened in time.
“It’s you, Goddammit. I know it’s you. This has your work all over it,” Wakefield barked. “This is what I get for involving myself with a man like you.”
Latimer frowned.
“Oh yeah, Wakefield, and what manner of man am I? Do you mean from the streets? Like your brother-in-law here?” Hehitched a chin in Latimer’s direction. He knew what they were both thinking. It was the same thing Roxborough had accused him of.
“I’m not being a bloody prick,” Wakefield gritted out.
“But you’re the one who said it.” His brother-in-law spoke quietly in clearly condemning tones.
Wakefield dragged a hand through his hair and cursed. He’d not be made to feel guilty. He wasn’t in the wrong here. Getting his temper under control, he put all his focus on Dynevor.
“How did the lady come to be here?” Wakefield demanded. He alternated his focus between Latimer and Dynevor. “Which one of you brought her into this club?”
Latimer put his palms up. “That’s not my role.”
“How convenient,” Wakefield sneered. “That way, you can distance yourself from any disasters such as this?”
It became clear neither of them intended to venture anything for Wakefield. He gave his head a disgusted shake. “Are you aware the lady is related to Baron Newhart, who is involved with Lady Marianne Carew? The former Baroness Featherstone is now the Baroness Newhart.”
Those were two names the two men who dealt in sin were clearly very familiar with.
Where both men were irritated before with Wakefield, now all their features went on high alert. Gone was Dynevor’s usual swagger. He no more liked being the recipient of this information than Wakefield enjoyed discovering Cressida’s familial connections.
“As I understand it,” Wakefield said for his brother-in-law exclusively, “this one extended membership to Newhart.”
“He was a patron,” Dynevor said bluntly. “He isn’t any longer. I revoked his membership. He got particularly rough with one of the women, a woman who didn’t want it rough. I threatened to send him to Marshalsea if he didn’t pay his debtsbefore he went. He did.” The young earl shrugged. “That was the last I heard of him.”
“Perhaps Newhart is using the lady to bring down trouble on the club,” Latimer suggested.
“Nah.” The Earl of Dynevor rejected that assertion with such speed, both men looked to him.
“Ain’t that. I’ve got some experience with that from my younger days.”—The lad’s younger days? But then, with the hard existence this one had eeked out, maybe he’d never even been a child.— “With the lady’s family and origins, thetonwouldn’t notice if the lady kicked up her heels,” Dynevor said flatly. “They certainly ain’t going to give ten shites if she whored herself here.”
Rage blackened Wakefield’s vision.
With a venomous hiss, he grabbed the younger man by his jacket and dragged him in until their noses touched. “She didn’t whore herself.”
Dynevor remained motionless, expressionless, through Wakefield’s tumult.
Breathing hard, he released the earl quick and backed away. He stood rigid, his every muscle strung as tight as a bow.
