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The youngest Challenger was waiting at the Bromley town house when he returned, scrambling up from the seat his butler had assigned him in the library. He was dressed well.

‘I am sorry, sir,’ he said as Nick walked in. ‘I am Frederick’s brother Christian Challenger. I should have perhaps come back another time, but there is an important matter I wish to discuss with you and so I elected to wait.’

When his eyes saw the workman’s clothing Nick was wearing they widened. ‘There are so many stories of who you are now, Lord Bromley, and how you walk in the East End of London without fear and often in disguise. You are a legend, sir, to all of those young men who come after you. No one ever truly knew quite who you were then or are now and if we could be half the man that you—’

Nick interrupted him. ‘What’s the important matter?’

‘Vitium et Virtus. Myself and a group of friends are wondering if perhaps you might sell your share in it to us.’

‘Why?’

That question made Christian Challenger frown and yet to give him his due he answered.

‘We’d like the chance to continue the club in the august tradition of friendship that you began, sir.’

A good retort. Perhaps Frederick himself had tutored the young man in an appropriate response. God, Nick suddenly felt every one of his twenty-nine years.

‘When do you require an answer?’

‘Oh, there is no hurry, Lord Bromley. It is just the promise of an affirmative endorsement in the future that we would like.’

‘How old are you?’

‘Nearly twenty.’

‘Do you gamble?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And drink?’

‘Copiously, my lord.’

A younger version of himself would have no doubt asked about the lad’s bedding habits but the older one was tired of such debauchery.

‘We will discuss it.’

‘I am most grateful for such a consideration. I am also thrilled to be in your company, my lord, and wondered if you are by any chance going to the New Year’s Eve party at the Jacksons tonight?’

‘I wasn’t thinking of it.’

‘The wine is from France and the gambling tables are very rich.’

Nick did not feel like being alone again this evening. He felt restless and ornery, the anger in him over his visit to the river today growing. Perhaps if he went out it would help?

‘Is your brother attending?’

‘He said he might call in.’

‘Wait until I change and I will join you. Help yourself to a drink.’

* * *

Once this would have been fun. Once he would have been the one to call for more wine and to set up games of chance that he had very little hope of winning. Once he would have had a woman on each arm and the promise of others all about him. Even now in the corner as far from the dance floor as he could manage he could see them observing him.

‘Bromley? Is that you?’ A particularly beautiful blonde came forward with a little entourage of more women of the same ilk. He felt like one of the sweetmeats he and Eleanor had probably fawned over in Fortnum and Masons all those years before.

Eleanor.He wished she was here with her wise eyes and laughter. He wanted her beside him more than he had ever wanted anything in his whole life.