The Scot's Wager: The Perdition Club by Hannah Morse

Author:Hannah Morse [Morse, Hannah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dos Chihuahuas
Published: 2022-07-05T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter ten

The London horse market stank of horse. Danny held his gloves in one hand and used them to fan himself as he tried to casually inspect the animals on offer. There were many of them, from fine matched carriage teams with bobbed tails to enormous draft animals that’d be taken to the countryside.

He was far from the only member of the gentry present, and even a few noblemen moved about the makeshift stalls and paddocks.

Danny had to keep an eye on the ground to avoid the piles of manure. He couldn’t imagine asking one of his staff to clean that off his boots. The horses for sale seemed of good enough quality, nothing to write home about, but serviceable. Certainly nothing meant for the track, this market was hardly Tattersalls. Cecil had come as well, acting as a sort of groom since Danny wouldn’t be expected to lead a horse about while considering a purchase.

He envied Cecil’s cap, plain shirt, jacket, and loose trousers. Danny wore riding gear, which was too tight and too warm. The pounding headache he’d earned from his night of drinking wasn’t improved by the hellishly bright noonday sun beating down on his head.

Cecil pet the nose of an enormous dappled mare, smiling as she nosed at the pocket he’d stuck a great handful of carrots in. It was a good thing Cecil wasn’t in charge of buying stock, or they’d end up with half the animals present.

“Not a hunter,” Danny reminded him before groaning and rubbing a hand across his eyes. He turned and a thin lad of maybe eight ran into him.

“Beggin’ your pardon,” the lad said, curly brown hair sticking up in all directions when he raised his cap at Danny.

“No harm done.”

Cecil caught the boy’s arm when he went to dash off. “Give the man his purse back.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The lad paled behind his smattering of freckles.

Danny frowned and patted his coat pocket. Sure enough, his purse was missing. He had his bills folded up and tucked somewhere safer on Sparrow’s advice, but he’d paid the cabby earlier and left his purse in its usual place.

“You’re very good,” he told the boy, whose expression flickered between pride and fear. “But I’d like it back all the same.”

“Fine.” He handed the purse to Cecil, who checked that the coins were there. He took out a shilling and gave it to the lad before handing it back to Danny, who knew better than to argue. The lad didn’t either, he just clutched the coin and ran off the moment Cecil let go.

“Should I be worried you’re handing out my money to pickpockets?” he asked as they made their way down the row of draft horses.

“If he didn’t return with something his master would beat him. That should be enough to keep him from harm.” Cecil stopped to pet another draft animal, a gorgeous animal with a coat nearly the color of Cecil’s curls. Maybe he’d been onto something

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