The Wicked Wallflower: #3 The Duchess Society Series by Sumner Tracy

Author:Sumner, Tracy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: WOLF Publishing
Published: 2022-04-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Where a scoundrel who doesn’t believe in love questions love

The raucous sights and scents of the Devil’s Lair were comforting.

Macauley liked that he couldn’t quite catch a stray thought with so much going on around him. The sound of dice bouncing across baize, the cries of the croupiers, the inebriated laughter of his patrons. His mind was occupied. There was no time to dwell on kisses given—and wholly received—on a moonlit terrace two days ago.

He equated this ease with turmoil to his upbringing in the slums. A constant cacophony, never a moment’s quiet. All night. Every night. Aromas from the varied existences being played out on the streets, flowing uninvited into whatever tiny abode he’d managed to secure for himself. A time when he’d been unafraid of anything. An angry bastard.

There was strength in being fearless.

Although he only knew one fearless person anymore. A woman who should be frightened down to her gorgeous toes of the mess she’d stepped into on that terrace.

“What a spectacle,” Tobias Streeter murmured as he settled in beside Macauley in the gallery’s narrow alcove, his gaze sweeping the gaming floor below. “More than you’d planned even, am I right, Mac? Bigger crush tonight than last and the one before it. I think the chap in the crimson cape is a prince from the continent. He’s lost well over a thousand pounds this eve already. And there, the nob with the elegant walking stick. An MP, isn’t he? Pays to have friends in high places.”

He leaned his hip on the balustrade and spun a pound chip between his fingers. “I’ll make my investment back fast enough to buy another distillery. That one I’m looking at in Scotland. Near Oban. You’re in if I decide to sign the papers, right? I’ve got your young Scot investigating some of the particulars since it’s his area of the world, so to speak. The deal will go smoother if a native is involved.”

Macauley brought his tumbler to his lips, the whisky, his and Tobias’s from distillery number one, flowing smooth as silk down his throat. “The lad is busy enough with his duties here, but yes to both. I’m in, Street. Dash is at your ready should you need him. He understands the brogue where you and I have trouble. Lad’s got a fine mind, which I’ve heard rumor he’s preparing to sharpen like a blade against a stack of books. Word in the family is Theodosia Astley wishes to teach the urchin, heaven help us.” He balanced his glass on the railing, an argument brewing between a boozy baron and the mistress of an earl’s second son capturing his attention. If they so much as touched each other, unless they were planning to employ one of his chambers upstairs, he would pitch them into the alley himself. Bloodshed was sure to calm his mood. “Anyway, when have I not been in, mate? My role, innit? Partners till death does us in.”

“Markham and Leighton have agreed as well. I think we should put something regal on this label to honor their friendship.

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