McBride’s was an Irish brothel that was neither the best nor worst of its kind.
“In fact,” Bev said with a sly grin. “You might even be mine. Flora was past it by then, but I plowed her a time or two for old time’s sake.”
Hugo squeezed the arms of his chair rather than fly across the desk and squeeze Bev’s neck.
Bev smirked, as if he knew what Hugo was thinking. “Evan liked to ride his high horse, but he never could put bread on the table. He weren’t above whorin’ out his wife—although she had to go all the way to McBride’s to ply her trade so’s nobody in the old neighborhood would know.” His dark eyes glinted. “He wasn’t above whorin’ a boy he’d raised as his own son, neither. Though he waited until after yer mam died to do that, dint ’ee?”
Hugo hadn’t believed that an old wound could still cause him such pain.
He’d been wrong.
“Why did you want to buy me?”
Bev grinned.
Hugo recoiled. “Christ. Even though I might be your son?”
Bev’s grin just broadened. “You were a right temptin’ morsel back then, Hugo. I was willin’ to risk my immortal soul for a taste.”
Hugo felt like throwing up.
Bev shrugged. “But Evan refused. He claimed it was ’cause he didn’t want that life for any of youse. But I know the real reason was that he hated my guts because I had yer mam first and she always did fancy me more.” He gave a bawdy laugh. “I woulda paid more than that old whip maker for you, but Evan Dinwiddy had a head like a fuckin’ brick.” He cocked his head at Hugo. “What about you, eh? You got a brick for a brain, too, Hugo?”
“I must have to have taken Laura Maitland as a partner.”
Davies found that amusing. “Aye. Never do business with women, that’s one o’ my rules.” He gave Hugo a mocking look. “Another is never do business with anyone who’s got the fever. And that’s Laura.”
“I thought it was only for gin, I didn’t realize the extent of the gambling.”
“That sounds like an oversight on your part, mab.”
Hugo knew he was right; he was no crime lord like Bev. All he knew about was fucking and running whores.
“You used the word were when you mentioned my father. Is he dead?”
“Aye, he went in that spate o’ typhus six or seven years back.” He scratched his head, his expression reflective. “Seems two or three of your brothers went off to war, one got transported,” he chuckled, “for real, that was. Your sister Nell died not long after Evan sold you. Moira and Susan came to work for me.” He shrugged. “But they’ve been gone some years now. I couldn’t say where any of them are.”
That was just as well. The last thing he wanted was a family reunion.
“But you didn’t come here to reminisce, now did ye?”
“No.”
Davies waved a hand around the room. “I’ve wanted this place for decades. Since before you were breeched.” He chewed the inside of his cheek, his expression … bemused. “And now I got it.”
“I can’t help noticing that you don’t look very happy about that.”
Bev pushed out his lower lip. “Naw, I ain’t. You see, I ain’t never lost money before.”
“Solange’s is losing money?” It hadn’t in all the years Hugo had worked there.
“Aye.” Bev’s jaw shifted from side to side as if he were chewing on something tough and gristly. He gave Hugo a look that made all the hairs on his body stand up. “I don’t like losin’ money, mab.”
And Hugo didn’t like Bev calling him mab, the Welsh word for son, but he kept that to himself. “No, I can imagine.”
“I don’t like … failure.”
Hugo waited quietly.
He scowled. “I can’t seem to keep these high steppin’ punters.”
Hugo wanted to suggest that the way to keep wealthy clients was not to extort them, but he doubted that would go over well.
“I can see what you’re thinkin’,” Bev said, smirking. “And you’re right. I was plannin’ on squeezin’ a few of ’em. But only those with stacks o’ vowels in my bloody safe.”
Yet another reason Hugo wanted to strangle Laura, who’d insisted they extend ridiculous credit to several of their customers, amounts the men would never be able to repay. He’d considered extorting those bastards himself.
Bev swung his feet back onto his desk. “I’ve always had a soft spot for ye, Hugo. Why, you might be my own blood, after all.”
Hugo hoped he hid just how disturbing he found that.
Bev grinned, exposing more than one black stump. “And that’s why I’m gonna make you an offer.”
Bloody hell. Here we go.
Hugo forced a smile. “I’m all ears, Bev.”
Chapter 29
Martha was in the bookroom when Hugo returned from his meeting with Bev.
He had not come directly from Solange’s but had made a few stops along the way.
He paused a moment just inside the door to admire her. She was curled up on the window seat, so enrapt by whatever she was reading that she didn’t even hear him enter. She wore a dark blue wool dress with a fluffy cream-colored shawl draped over her shoulders, the color remarkably close to that of her hair.
The gown wasn’t especially fashionable—it was one of the few he’d bought for her in Wick—but the severe color and prim cut were the perfect foil for her fair coloring. He swallowed as he drank in the sight of her. Today he had secured their future. It would be a long, difficult year ahead, but at the end of it he would regain his half and would immediately turn around and sell it and get out from under a business that he no longer really wished to operate. It wouldn’t be enough money to last the rest of their lives but should last for a good, long time.
But all that was still far away. A year of managing Bev—not just Solange’s—stood between him and freedom.
Did it
