Connor exited White’s with the gentlemen Lord Haversham had introduced him to, pausing on the walk outside. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Lord Parsons, Mr. Buttons, and Sir Jeffers.” Connor looked at each man in turn. “I do hope to conduct business in the future.”
Even as he said it, Connor kept envisioning the scene he had stumbled upon at Foldger’s Foals just a few short days before: Lord Haversham and Lady Vi, wrapped tightly in each other’s embrace in the pasture. Haversham had had no right to kiss her—she was meant for him! Even her father had expressed his agreement to their union.
“Good day,” the men chimed, stiffly.
Odd, the men didn’t act as most men of the ton did. In his not-too-distant past, men of the upper class had taken pleasure in emphasizing his lower station in life, always finding the opportunity to showcase their superiority.
“Please give Lord Haversham my regards. I must be off to another meeting before I return to the country.”
“Of course. Do enjoy your time.” Lord Parsons looked around nervously.
Had he forgotten how to hail their carriage? It was not his concern either way. Connor turned on his heel and headed down the street. When he arrived at the corner, he turned left, following the walk. His partner waited in his coach to take himself and Connor to their next meeting.
Connor entered the carriage and took the seat facing the rear.
Hamp sat deep in the seat facing forward, his face covered in the shadows of early evening. “That was a fairly short meeting. All well?”
“It went well, although I am unsure if the men are truly interested.”
“What makes you think they are not?” the man asked.
He couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason for his thinking. “They seemed to be uneasy, as if the expenditure of coin was out of their norm.”
Hamp sat forward, his hard jawline no longer covered in shadows. “But you were able to pass one of them the card I gave you?”
“I am not an ignoramus or incompetent, Hamp.” They had known each other for years, Connor thought irritably, and still the man thought he was inferior and unable to fulfill his part in their business arrangement.
Rather than respond, Hamp sat back in the shadows and rapped the side of the carriage with his cane, signaling the driver to depart.
“Thank you for providing me with transportation while I am in town,” Connor said to ease the tension.
“Do you have the money you promised?”
He should have known the man had an ulterior motive for taxiing Connor between meetings. It seemed everything always boiled down to money. “As I told you, there is not much money left to be had—”
“Not much, but some . . .” The man cut in.
“Hand it over!” Hamp’s voice verged on a whine.
He wondered how much Hamp had drunk so far that evening. From the smell inside the coach, he’d started early and continued nonstop until recently.
“You realize you are stealing food from children’s mouth by taking this money, correct?” Connor kept the envelope tucked close and out of Hamp’s reach.
His friend laughed. “In all the time you have known me, do you think I give one fuck about children and if they are well fed?”
Doubt hit Connor hard. It took all his will not to tuck the envelope back into his coat pocket and exit the moving coach. He’d spent years certain that Lady Viola deserved all that would eventually befall her. She’d toyed with him for years, but he’d never been prepared for his vengeance to spill over on innocent children. This would be the last time Hamp would benefit from him taking money that rightly belonged to the orphanage.
Connor pulled the envelope Lady Viola had asked him to deliver from his pocket and handed it over. “This is all. Any other money, we will have to earn from selling our own stock.”
“By ‘we’—” The man raised an eyebrow in question. “—you mean ‘you,’ correct?”