She nodded, her eyes wide, as if she didn’t want to miss even a bit of the splendor surrounding them.
Once they’d gone up the stairs, Hugo turned to Joss. “Melissa said you’d be gone by the time we arrived,” he said rudely.
Joss gave him one of his opaque looks—the sort that had always gotten under Hugo’s skin. “I apologize for still being in my own house, Hugo. Would you like to have this conversation in the foyer or perhaps we could go to my study?”
“Ooooh,” Hugo mocked childishly. “Your study.”
Joss turned on his heel and strode away without speaking.
Hugo had to trot to keep up with the towering man’s stride. “Where are we going? You have your study on the ground floor?”
“No, but this way is faster, so we’ll take the servant stairs.”
“You’re probably more comfortable using these, anyhow—aren’t you?” Hugo taunted as they passed through a nondescript door into a narrow, functional stairwell.
“I can’t tell you how much I’ve not missed you,” Joss said as he climbed the steps with a grace that was unusual in a man so large.
“When are you leaving?” Hugo asked.
“Don’t worry, I’ve booked passage on a packet on Wednesday.”
Well, that was good, at least; he’d only have to put up with the insufferable man for a few days.
Once they reached the second floor, Joss led him down an elegant corridor. A maid came out of a room, spotted them, dropped a curtsey, and then scurried off toward the servant stairs.
It irked Hugo how quickly and easily Joss had adjusted to a life of wealth and luxury. Not only had he married one of the richest women in London—an American heiress who was also the widow of the Earl of Selwood—but his new wife was one of the most beautiful women Hugo had ever seen. He’d met Lady Selwood when she’d come to the female side of Solange’s several years back.
Hugo had been within moments of getting the lovely countess naked when Joss had barged in and spoiled all his fun. Hugo suspected Joss still held a bit of a grudge over that near miss.
Joss opened a magnificent, intricately carved door and motioned Hugo into a room that took his breath away: vibrant jewel tone carpets, walls lined with books, heavy, comfortable leather furniture, and a fireplace large enough to roast an entire ox.
“Just what is it that you study in here, Joss old man?”
Joss ignored the question. “Something to drink?”
“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
“That almost tempts me to ingest poison,” Joss murmured.
“Har har, you are as droll as ever.”
Hugo inspected the magnificent landscape that hung over the fireplace while Joss dispensed their drinks. “What are you doing in London, anyhow?”
“Visiting my new niece and checking on several business matters for my wife.”
Hugo accepted the crystal glass that Joss dwarfed with his huge hand and took a sip. “Very nice. So,” he said, once they were both seated. “Have you gone to Solange’s?”
“I did,” Joss said.
Hugo heaved a sigh. “Are you going to make me pull the words out of you?”
“I saw Laura. I didn’t tell her I’d heard from you—or about you, rather—I just asked her how things were.”
“And?”
“I could see how things were,” Joss admitted. He pinned Hugo with his disconcertingly sharp gaze. “I take it Melissa told you about Bev Davies.”
Hugo gritted his teeth. “Yes, they’re partners.”
“Not any longer.”
“What?”
“From what I could tell, she no longer owns any of it. She’s just working there. Although I doubt she has many clients; she looks ill.”
“I don’t care if she’s on death’s bloody doorstep,” Hugo snapped. “Are you telling me she lost the whole damned place to Bev—my half and hers?”
“It looks that way. Partnering up with the man who runs the worst gaming hells in the city isn’t a wise decision for anyone, but especially not a woman of Laura’s proclivities.”
“She’s on the gin again?” Hugo guessed.
“Yes.”
“And Solange’s? The employees?”
Joss’s expression was grim. “Nobody looked happy. I’ve not been around the place in several years, so maybe that accounts for the lack of familiar faces, but I didn’t know any of the servants. In fact, the only person I recognized was Laura.”
There was only one reason to fire excellent servants, and that was to hire cheaper ones. Some of the servants had worked at Solange’s for more than twenty years—employees that had been with the place through four different owners.”
“Bastard,” Hugo muttered. “That would be Davies’s doing.”
“The place already looks … well, it’s only a few months but it looks down at heel.”
Hugo wanted to yell. Instead, he asked a question he’d been dreading, “I know about Bev’s other houses. Please tell me he hasn’t begun to run virgins out of Solange’s?”
“According to Laura they aren’t.”
“Do you believe her?”
“I don’t know,” Joss admitted. “What are you going to do, Hugo? You know how Davies is: he doesn’t have partners. At least not for long. Laura is lucky that she’s still among the living. I don’t know what she told him about your half of the business, but I’d wager you won’t be getting any money out of him.”
Hugo swallowed down the bile that threatened to choke him. He knew Joss was right; now that Bev controlled the place, he would never let it go. He’d kill Hugo before giving up even a penny.
He turned his glass in his hand, gazing abstractedly at the liquid. Like every other Welshman in the city, Hugo had known Bev Davies all his life. Bev had started off as a pimp in St. Giles, quickly expanding his operations into the rest of the city over the next forty years. He now owned over a dozen brothels, gambling hells, and gin houses. If it was illegal, then Bev had a hand in it.
“What are you going to do?” Joss asked again.
“I’m not going to rush into anything. Right
