Page 24 of A Duke in Pursuit of Passion
“Thank you, Lady McGilligan.”
“You are welcome, Lady Ella.”
“Thank you,” Nathaniel mouthed over Lady Ella’s shoulder so she would not hear him thanking his aunt on her behalf.
“Off you go,” Magda insisted, shooing Lady Ella off up the stairs. For once, the woman did not protest at someone having told her what to do, and Nathaniel smiled. He was glad to see that at least his aunt seemed to be getting on with her house guest, even if he couldn’t.
The pair watched her up the stairs, waiting for her to disappear before Magda turned to Nathaniel and said, “I did not bother to have your bath drawn.”
Nathaniel scoffed at that. “How upsetting of you, aunt.”
She scowled back at him and shook her head. “We both know you do not intend to remain here this evening. Mack has already informed me of your intentions.”
“Then I presume he shall be about momentarily to join me?” Nathaniel asked, deciding it was best to ignore his aunt’s enquiring glare. The last thing she needed to know was where he intended to spend most of his evening and likely a lot of his night. If he had to stay up all night and well into the next morning to find Louisa on Ella’s behalf, then that was what he would do.
On the third stop, in one of the seediest taverns Nathaniel had ever set foot in, he and Mack found the two men they had been looking for, the men Nathaniel was certain would know about Mr Giles if there was anything to find out about him.
Struggling past the women of the night who practically threw themselves into his arms, Nathaniel approached the two men sitting beside the fireplace in the tavern, both with huge tankards of ale in hand and laughing away as though they had not a care in the world.
One of them was holding a harlot upon his knee, clearly suggesting something that from the looks on her face made her more than a little uncomfortable, yet she was as professional as any woman of the night would be, clearly forcing a smile and playing with the buttons on the man’s jacket.
“Well, well, if it isn’t our Macky boy!” the other man watching his friend exclaimed almost as soon as Nathaniel and Mack approached. “And his master!”
Nathaniel gritted his teeth at that. He was no master to Mack, at least not in the way the man was suggesting.
“Good to see you too, Finigan,” Mack said, and from his tone, Nathaniel could guess he was speaking through gritted teeth. “And you, Vince.”
He looked between the two sleazy Scottish men before giving the harlot a silent gesture of his head to get her to leave.
At first, the one called Vince gripped her waist tightly, refusing to let her go.
“As much as we missed you, Macky, I ain’t lettin’ me Crista here go for no lord,” Vince protested, glowering out of the corner of his eye at Nathaniel as he and Mack pulled up two chairs to join them beside the fire.
“We won’t keep you long, Vince,” Mack said, glancing at Nathaniel for permission before he added, “Give us what we came for, and there’ll be reward enough in it for you.”
At that, Finigan and Vince smirked at each other. Releasing the redheaded harlot, Vince shoved her away, offering her a slap on the rear before sending her on her way.
“What can ’e do for ye, me lord?” Finigan asked, feigning respect in the form of an exaggerated wave of his arm across his chest, bowing in his seat to Nathaniel.
Knowing that the pair were simply trying to goad him, well aware that many Scottish men would sooner spit at an Englishman than help him, Nathaniel was forced to sit through it. Though he would not take it lying down.
“We are looking for information,” Nathaniel explained, “a friend of ours has lost a brother in these parts, and we are making enquiries.”
“Enquiries, is it?” Vince mocked, and Finigan laughed.
“Need I remind the two of you that Lord Rolfe here can make life a living hell for the both of you with all I know,” Mack snapped at them both, and the two quickly clamped their mouths shut, looking at the manservant as though they would have liked to run him over the hot coals in the fireplace.
“You wouldn’t dare!” Finigan spat.
“Perhaps Macky wouldn’t, but Mr Murphy certainly would,” Mack said, only a little of his old Scottish accent shining through as he raised his voice.
“Well, well, who knew you’d turn on your clansmen?” Vince grumbled with a roll of his eyes. “We’re just playin’ wit’ ye man.”
“Who be ye askin’ about?”
Mack glanced at Nathaniel again, looking for permission to speak for them. He would have liked to do so himself, but Nathaniel knew it was best to leave it to his man. He knew how to speak with these men, knew how far he could push them. With a curt, almost imperceptible nod, Nathaniel sat back and waited.
“We’re looking for a Mr Joshua Giles.”
