In the Dark with the Duke by Christi Caldwell Page 0,114

think he’d ever become accustomed to.

The ever-dutiful butler stepped aside. “Your Grace,” he said sotto voce. “You have guests. Mr. Maynard and Mr. Bragger.”

They were here.

It had been more than a week since they’d come around. With the Marquess of Prendergast’s annual ball just four days away, they would be here to discuss his search and their plan forward.

“Where?” Hugh asked crisply. Retaining his hold on his leather satchel, he shrugged out of his black cloak and handed it over to the footman hovering at his shoulder.

“I took the liberty of showing them to your office, Your Grace.”

Hugh had already started for the long corridor.

They weren’t going to be pleased. Nay, they were going to be livid at Hugh’s decision. They, however, had only ever known a thirst for revenge. It was all they’d ever know. That sentiment consumed them and would ultimately destroy them.

Hugh reached his offices and instantly found the pair seated at his desk with their legs dropped on that gleaming surface. And something in the sight of that . . . that disrespect in a house that wasn’t theirs, on a desk Hugh’s own father, the father he’d never recall, had conducted his work at, sent fury rippling through him. He shut the door with a firm click. “I understand you are looking for me,” he said coolly as he stalked forward.

Both men dropped their legs to the floor.

“There ya are,” Maynard said at his approach. “Been waitin’ for ya.”

Nor did Hugh believe for one moment they’d only just heard his approach. Raised in the streets as they’d been, they heard everything. Everything.

Bragger pinned a hard, assessing stare on him. “Been gone awhile.”

Taking a seat, Hugh set his bag down close to his hand. “Is that a question or an observation?” he returned, and the other man’s brows dipped.

Aye, because the last thing Bragger had ever expected or been accustomed to was being challenged outright by Hugh . . . or anyone.

And also for the first time, Bragger backed down. With a little grunt, he nodded at Hugh. “Ya secured yar invitation?”

“Aye.” Lila had gotten him an invitation into the marquess’s residence.

“And ya know wot ya ’ave to do?”

He knew what they expected him to do. “I understand what you’re asking,” he said quietly.

Maynard rubbed his hands gleefully. “Bloody comeuppance toime.”

Bragger, however, kept his gaze locked on Hugh. “Wot?”

“I cannot do it.” Only, that wasn’t correct, either. “I won’t do it. Not what you intend.”

Bragger and Maynard looked at one another. Maynard surged forward, but their other partner held a hand up, quelling him.

“You won’t do what?”

“I’ll search and retrieve anything in the gentleman’s household that links him to the Fight Society, but if I discover anything, it will be turned over to the law. They should be brought to justice, but we shouldn’t be the arbiters of their fate.”

There was a lengthy silence, and then Maynard slammed a fist down hard on Hugh’s desk, where Steele’s folder on the Fight Society rested. “Of course we should. That’s the way of the streets. And ya? Ya’d simply forget? Forget wot was done to ya? To me.” He jabbed a finger at Bragger. “To ’im and ’is sister? And why?” He spread his arms wide. “Because ya got yar fancy loife now. Because ya don’t want for anything, so ya forget wot they did and ’ow ya lived.”

The other man was entitled to that opinion, and Hugh well understood how he’d found his way there. “I will never forget what was done to any of us . . .” Every punch he’d landed. Every bone he’d broken. Every boy he’d brought to tears of agony and misery. Of the boy he’d killed. “It will be with me always,” Hugh said softly. “But this . . .” He motioned to Steele’s packet sitting out on his desk. “This isn’t going to make any of it go away. Slitting his throat or putting a bullet in Prendergast? All that is going to leave us with is that same evil on our hands.” He shook his head. “It makes us no different, no better, than them.”

Maynard scoffed. “Ya believe that?”

“I do,” Hugh said solemnly.

“Then yar a damned fool.”

Hugh had been a fool about so much, but this? This was right. This time, his actions weren’t being driven out of a sense of obligation, but rather a moral right.

Bragger sat back in his chair, and with the coiled tension in his frame, no one would ever dare mistake his repose for