Page 145 of The Trouble with Tigers
She took a moment to glance at her immediate surroundings. Dark and high ceilinged, the room looked to be a converted warehouse of sorts. Four round baize-covered tables made up the furnishings. Four to five men sat at each. Oil lampshaphazardly attached to exposed rafters hung over the tables. Thick bands of cigar smoke coiled in the harsh lights.
The men all stared at her with varying degrees of pique or curiosity. None of them were her brother. Of course they weren’t. She was the worst kind of fool.
“We both happened to be staying at the same inn, two days ago,” she finally answered.
The man barked out a laugh of understanding. “You’re Hastings’ sister. The one he didn’t want me to see.”
Kitty sidled backwards towards the passageway. “I’m terribly sorry to have disturbed your games, gentlemen. As it turns out, Collin and I got separated. He’ll surely be searching the streets for me, so if you’ll excuse me—”
“Separated, eh? Do y’hear, men? Hastings and his darling sister got separated,” Peters announced to the room.
“He’s searching for her, all right. Nose deep in the corner yonder,” someone volunteered.
Raucous laughter ensued.
Another man said, “Enough of this. I didn’t come here to chat.”
Several men apparently agreed, and voiced their assent.
Peters raised a hand, shushing the growing discontent. “Keep an eye on things, Brawn,” he muttered to the man who’d grabbed her, and and gestured for Kitty to follow him.
She wanted very much to leave. But curiosity bade her trail the man to an unlit corner of the large room.
In horror she noted a man huddling on the floor. Dark haired, and lying on his side, his back to the wall, he emitted a small snore.
She peered down at the man. “Mr Peters why are you—” She gasped. “Collin! What have you done with him?” She crouched beside her brother and gave his shoulder a firm shake.
He did not open his eyes.
“He’s passed out, thanks to his own overindulgence. I’d be most obliged if you’d get the pisser out of here,” Peters replied.
“I’ll be more than happy to,” she said, attempting to wake Collin, to no avail.
What was she to do now?
“There’s just a small matter of the debt owed me.” Peters rocked back on his heels.
She straightened. “Debt?”
“He lost deep, as per usual, but I’m sure you’re no stranger to that.”
“Deep?” she echoed again.
“He’s bet the farm, so to speak. You’d think he’d have learned after last time when he had to quit the country.” Peters’ face split in a broad grin. “You should have seen his face when he came to me two nights past, all apologetic and humble-like, telling me how he’d be coming into money soon, and how he’d pay off his debt.
"When I told him it’d been settled years ago by Lord Hastings, his grandfather, I thought his eyes would pop right out of his head.” Peters cackled. “You fancies. You slay me.”
“I have no notion of what you're talking about, sir. My brother was pronounced dead until recently. His ship was lost at sea.”
“That’s as may be, milady. I can’t rightly say. I can only tell you, he fled like a scared girl when it came time to pay his debts last time because he didn’t have the blunt. Meanwhile, his lordship cleared away his debts as always. Never bothered to tell his heir, though. I suppose he got tired of bleeding money.” Peters stared down at Collin, hands splayed on his hips.
He sighed and disappeared, returning a moment later with a large tankard in hand.
“Never did trust a man what couldn’t hold his liquor.” He dashed the contents into Collin’s face.
A sputtering Collin bolted upright, then brought a hand to his temple. His eyes were puffy slits of red. “What’s that, eh? Kitty, love, is that you?”
“And here, Lady Hastings, is his marker,” Peters thrust a small sheet of paper into her hands.
