In the Dark with the Duke by Christi Caldwell Page 0,48

us find Val.” Val. Hugh’s stomach muscles knotted up. Val, whom he’d not given proper thought to since Lila had begun coming around. “I trust you’ve not forgotten Val?” Bragger asked, accurately following those guilty musings running around Hugh’s head.

“Come on, now,” Maynard murmured. “Angus is waiting.”

“Where is he?” Hugh asked tersely. Nor did he think for one moment they were done talking about Lila’s presence here. It was, however, a temporary reprieve he welcomed.

Cocking his head, a laconic-even-for-him Bragger led the way. Maynard, always one to avoid conflict within their group, avoided Hugh’s eyes and fell into step beside him as they joined Bragger.

For years, their every focus had been on locating the ones responsible for their suffering . . . and on finding the lost member of their group. It was what had fueled them all. Their purpose had come in getting justice.

And now?

And now, you’re spending all your time and thoughts on some woman you’ve only just met . . .

They found Angus waiting in their offices. A former member of Savage’s, the sturdy Scot possessed a lion’s mane of unkempt red hair to match his equally unkempt beard. How it was someone of his six feet five inches and broad size managed to sneak around the underbelly of London remained a frequent wondering of those in the Covent Garden, but was understood by the same boys—now men—who’d become adept at foot skills.

Angus sipped at his flask, that carved of wood piece he’d not been without since he’d beaten his handler and taken the flask as a trophy. “I’ve got information fer ye,” he announced without preamble. He swiped at his damp beard and then stuffed the wood flask into the front of his jacket.

Hugh’s heart hammered. “What did you find?”

“First, congratulations are in order. Ye did a guid job oan Dooley.” He flashed a grin missing several teeth. “Th’ dobber didne lae his hoose fer three days.”

Hugh went motionless.

“Och, aye, the day he left an’ Ah followed heem.”

His heart hammered. Dooley, who’d been hiding for years, had grown sloppy. But then, fear did that to a person. “Where did he go?”

“White’s.”

Maynard chuckled. “Of course ’e did.”

And for all the missteps he’d made, and underestimations, in this, Dooley hadn’t proven so damned foolish, after all. “It was strategic,” Hugh explained. “He knew it was a place where we were sure not to be.” Some lords hid in London’s underbelly. Those who’d made Hugh and the others’ lives a living hell had chosen to hide in plain sight . . . in their world . . . a world Hugh, Maynard, Bragger, and Angus would never dare enter.

“Did he exit alone?” Bragger asked.

Angus lifted one broad shoulder. “He ne’er exited. Loch a ghost, he was.”

“Or he used the back exit,” Bragger said dryly.

“Nae. He’s a ghost coz Ah went aroond tae his apartments an’ thaur was nae trace ay heem.”

Hugh cursed. Bloody hell. Dooley was being protected by the nobility.

The burly Scot scowled. “Whit is it?”

“You won’t find him,” Hugh said quietly. “The nobility? They’ll protect one another from our sort.”

And yet . . . there’d been a reason for his sudden resurrection. Ten years they’d been searching for Dooley. Ten years scouring all of East London and asking throughout the most lethal, perilous streets. Dooley represented the one sure link to the fight club they’d been forced into. He stopped abruptly. “You’re going to need someone with links to the peerage.”

Angus sputtered. “Ahm doin’ finn enough.”

“It’s not your fault,” Hugh said, softening the blow. “Whomever it is set Dooley loose to see if we were still a threat.” In their haste, they’d played right into their enemy’s hands.

“At least the bastard knows we intend to destroy him,” Bragger said, cracking his knuckles.

“That’ll be all,” Maynard said to Angus.

The other man hesitated, and then nodding, he took his leave.

“What now?” Maynard asked quietly.

Silence met that question.

“It’s as I said, you’re . . . we’re going to need someone with a way into that world.” Until then, they’d be circling, clueless as they’d been for all these years.

“If ’e’s used Dooley as bait once, ’e’ll do it again,” Maynard murmured. “We were rash before. Won’t make the same mistake twice.”

His partners, however, were so bent on revenge that they let it get in the way of reason.

“And if he doesn’t reemerge this time?” Bragger asked, removing a cheroot from his pocket. “We’ve waited years to get even this close to the bastard.” He touched the edge of that scrap