Page 33 of Honor Unbound

“She’s the Lady Mary Cavindish.” Marie flipped her card face up, smiling when the other men groaned. “She’s here to speak with Mr. Cooke regarding a man who died on her doorstep. A Mr. Trent. Did any of you know him?”

“She’sthatLady Mary?” One of the men whistled as he pushed another marker to the center of the table. “I heard about that. The man was murdered,” he told his friend. “Stabbed. Bled to death right on the lady’s porch.”

“How gruesome.”

Timothy shuffled the cards. “I never met Trent, but ’is brother-in-law comes in ’ere sometimes.”

“Mr. Platt?” Marie asked.

“That’s the one.” Timothy dealt the cards, his fingers flashing. The movement was almost too quick to see. Marie narrowed her eyes as she waved her hand over the table in front of her, indicating she was sitting this round out. She didn’t stand a chance with that king tucked up the dealer’s sleeve.

Marie leaned forward, resting her arms on the table. As she’d hoped, a couple of glances were drawn to the top of her bodice. If men were going to look, she might as well use it to her advantage. “Is Mr. Platt a good player?”

“Fair.” Timothy shrugged. “Be better if ’e didn’t play like a man desperate for blunt. Desperation makes a man take stupid chances.”

That, Marie was all too aware of. Was Platt in need of funds? He was the son of a viscount. She wouldn’t think he’d be worried about his next meal, but perhaps his father didn’t fund his lifestyle.

“I heard Platt asked Cooke for a loan,” one of the men said.

The other man pushed his cards away in disgust. “And I heard Cooke turned him down. Platt was in his cups here one night, complaining for all to hear.”

“Mr. Cooke knows a bad investment when ’e sees one,” Timothy said.

Marie drummed her fingers on the table. A bad investment. People killed for money all the time. With his sister inheriting Trent’s estate, did Platt hope that she’d give him some of her inherited money?

And was he desperate enough to kill for it?

The next round Marie joined in, not seeing anything tucked up any sleeves. When she looked at the cards she was dealt, her face remained impassive.

But inside, she smiled.

Chapter Thirteen

Lady Mary

His guest chairswere still abominably low. I took a pillow from the settee along the wall and plumped it before putting it on the chair cushion and sitting. Southey was being uncharacteristically incurious and settled by my feet without sniffing out his new surroundings.

It seemed even dogs understood to tread carefully before one of the most dangerous men in London.

Cooke sat across from me, his chair several inches higher than mine and regal as a throne. “I assume your visit has to do with the body you found at your doorstep.”

I pulled my foot from underneath Southey’s panting mouth. He tended to drool when agitated, and as Cooke was the one agitating him, better Cooke’s rug suffer the consequences than my kidskin boot. “Why do you assume that?”

“You only seem to contact me when there’s been a murder.” He leaned back, his jacket stretching tightly across his broad shoulders. “More’s the pity.”

As I had no response to that, I proceeded. “Were you acquainted with Mr. Trent?” I asked.

“No.”

I waited, but he didn’t offer more. I thought about how to word my next question. I’d never known Mr. Cooke to outright lie to me, but he didn’t readily offer up information, either.

“Were you aware of the man?” I tried again. “Ever heard his name mentioned?”

“I hear lots of names mentioned.” His small smile and the hint of Irish in his voice did everything they could to charm. I wasn’t immune to such things. Fortunately, I’d had many years to build up defenses against charming rogues.

“So you did know of him.” I ran my finger over the falcon’s beak on my stick. “What is your impression of the type of man he was?”

Cooke steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “What is your interest in the matter? Not every murder deserves your bewitching attentions.”