Page 31 of Honor Unbound

The coach hit an especially deep rut, and Marie jerked forward to grab Southey and keep him from sliding off the seat. The terrier had been most insistent he not be left behind today and after closing his jaws around the hem of Lady Mary’s skirts, she’d relented. “She never married?” Marie liked Lady Mary’s lady’s maid. The old woman was a canny whist partner and could speak to their mistress as no one else was able. But Marie couldn’t deny that it tinged her feathers the tiniest bit green that the septuagenarian was involved in a romance when Marie’s life was free from flirtations.

“No, which is a shame. Jane has just the right amount of practicality balanced with kindness to have been an excellent wife and mother.” Lady Mary stared out the window. “Though marriage is no guarantee of children.”

Southey lay down, resting his head on Lady Mary’s lap. His liquid eyes stared up at her adoringly.

Marie fiddled with the strings of her reticule. “Meaning no disrespect, but I don’t want to end up like Jane, a spinster still working my fingers to the bone in my dotage.”

Lady Mary snorted. “Jane has never had to work her fingers to the bone. She has had quite a pleasant life, and it isn’t your place to judge the value of it.”

Marie’s cheeks heated. “I didn’t mean it like that, just…I can understand why she has remained unmarried. It’s deucedly hard to meet someone when you’re in service.”

“Is it?” Lady Mary swayed as the carriage took a turn. “There are men who serve at my house. At The Minerva Club. Tradesmen who come to the door. In fact, I seem to remember hiring an eligible young man just recently.”

Marie swallowed a growl. “Him?” She supposed Mr. Burton was eligible, if the attention he received from other young misses was anything to go by. He was also irritating, overbearing, and…and…well, something else annoying. “That is not the type of man I’m meaning to meet.”

Lady Mary looked at her over her spectacles. “Is that why you insisted on accompanying me today instead of accompanying Mr. Burton to Westminster? I’m sure searching through the court’s records to read about Trent’s lawsuit isn’t the most diverting way to spend an afternoon, but I had thought with the two of you working together the task would be accomplished more quickly.”

The time she’d spent with Burton the night before, following Mrs. Trent and examining the location of the murder, had been more than enough. His presence made her stomach twist like a bucket of eels, a thoroughly unpleasant experience.

“I insisted on coming with you because you’re going to a gaming hell.” Marie raised her chin. “It isn’t safe for you to goalone.” And besides, Marie was by and far the best card player in Lady Mary’s house. If anyone should get to see such a den of sin, it should be her. The tips of her fingers tingled at the thought.

“I see.” Lady Mary tilted her head. “A bit of advice, dear. I’ve noticed with young people today that although you might want something, you don’t want to put much effort into obtaining it. Change is uncomfortable, but shouldn’t necessarily be avoided. Sometimes one has to make oneself uncomfortable to get what one wants.”

The carriage rolled to a stop, and Marie scooted forward in her seat, snapping up Southey’s lead. “How insightful. What’s that have to do with me?” Her voice was a bit more cross than when proper when speaking to her mistress.

“Perhaps nothing. Perhaps everything.” Lady Mary’s faded blue eyes twinkled. “Just be open to new experiences. And don’t be so hard on poor Mr. Burton. He seems like a good sort of chap.”

That remained to be seen. “Well, he can be whatever kind of chap he wants to be over in Westminster. We’re here.”

Lady Mary grumbled under her breath as she scooted toward the door. All Marie caught was “waste,” “youth,” and “shiftless.” It was probably best she didn’t hear her mistress’s full sentiment.

Lady Mary climbed out into the late afternoon sun when Ernest lowered the steps.

Marie and Southey followed. The gaming hell wasn’t anything like what she’d expected. The neighborhood was clean and respectable, with men of business and some tradesmen hurrying along the pavement. The building itself was a modest two-story structure of light-colored sandstone. Twin Corinthian columns supported a portico over the top floor. A red door stood like a warning between them and the interior of the building. A sign over the entrance readThe C.V.

The Cagey Vixen, Lady Mary had told her it was called. What Lady Maryhadn’ttold her was how she knew the owner of this hell, one of the most disreputable men in all of London.

Lady Mary rapped smartly on the door with her walking stick. It was opened by a man with a shaved head and a neck thicker than Marie’s thigh.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jocko.” Lady Mary slipped inside without an invitation. “I’d like to see your employer.”

“Just Jocko, ma’am.” The doorman eyed Marie and Southey curiously as they followed after Lady Mary. “Is he expecting you?”

“I certainly hope not.” Lady Mary smiled. “I like to be a surprise.”

He led them to a small room off the foyer. “Wait here.”

Southey sniffed around the edges of the room.

“What sort of numbers do you think this club runs in a day?” Marie asked. The patrons would be playing much higher stakes than Marie and the rest of Lady Mary’s servants did. If The Cagey Vixen ran five tables, four players at each table, for eight hours a night, that could be—

“Lady Mary.” A man strode into the room, making the space feel suddenly much too small. He was a little under six feet tall, built solidly under his sharply tailored black jacket and trousers. His steel-gray hair was still thick despite his advancing years, and piercing blue eyes glowed from under black eyebrows. He was altogether an intimidating figure, and Marie could only assume that this was the infamous Mr. Edric Cooke.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked. “And who is your charming companion?” His gaze cut through Marie, assessing, before dropping to her feet. “And her dog. In my club.”

Marie shoved the lead into Lady Mary’s hands. “He’s her dog.”

Lady Mary pinched her lips together. “This is Miss Murphy, and the dog doesn’t like to be left behind.”