Michael felt his patience fraying at the edges as he fought to maintain his composure. “Let us get to the point.”
“Just ye wait,” George interrupted, raising his hand to stop Michael from speaking. “Before you go on, there are a few thin’s I need to ask.”
“Such as?”
“Such as who ye are. Ye cannot actually expect me to answer yer questions without at least knowin’ who I’m talkin’ to.” George took a large swig of his ale. “It is bad enough ye knew how to reach me in the first place, which means someone has said something they shouldn’t.”
“You aren’t exactly the most secretive person, seeing that you spend half your days in this tavern.”
This time, there was no mistaking that the noise George made was laughter. “Ye got me there. But ye’ll tell me who ye are, won’t ye?”
Michael only stared at him. The silence seemed to be making George uncomfortable because he quickly wiped his smile away and nodded.
“All right,” he mumbled, draining his tankard. “No problem. Morris!” George banged his tankard on the table then raised it above his head at someone Michael couldn’t see. Michael didn’t take his eyes off him. He tried to hold on to the last shred of his patience as he waited for this Morris person to approach. He did so within a few seconds, commenting that George should head home after drinking this last tankard of ale, who which George replied with a colourful curse.
George took three large gulps of his ale, sighing contentedly before he went on. “Now, what were we talkin’ about?”
Michael crossed his arms. “You were about to tell me about your time working with Lord Suthenshire.”
“Ah, yes. Lord Suthenshire. I cannot say that there is much to tell ye. I only worked as his clerk for one year.”
“But that was four years ago, was it not? Right before Lord Suthenshire gained influence in the House of Lords.”
“He’s always had influence,” George said, waving a dismissive hand. “Though he made it no secret that he wished for more.”
“Did he have a plan on how to achieve that?”
“A plan?” George frowned, rolling his eyes to the ceiling in thought. “I cannot say that he did. Perhaps? He didn’t inform me of much. His steward was much closer to him. Ye would be much better off getting this sort of information from him.”
Michael would have done just that if he hadn’t found out the steward had passed away two years ago. “Surely, you must know something?”
“Do I? It was four years ago, ye know. And me memory isn’t that good.” George drummed his bony fingers on the table. “Though I’m sure it can be jogged if needs be.”
The insinuation was clear. Michael reached into the small pocket of his coat and fished out two shillings, sliding them across the table. George waited until Michael removed his hand to snatch them up.
“Let’s see,” he hummed, then took two more gulps of his ale. “What can I remember? Lord Suthenshire was an arrogant man, that was for certain. I think anyone could tell ye that. He liked to think he was better than everyone else and he surely tried to make ye think the same as well. I remember one time he asked me to meet with him and could ye believe he was tellin’ me I don’t dress well enough to be his clerk? Granted he gave me money to purchase better clothes so I wasn’t really complainin’, but it is quite impolite, don’t ye think? I thought the British only knew how to be polite. I’ve been here since I was ten-and-five years, haven’t been back to Scotland for nearly that many years, and I still haven’t met a single British man who had half the manners as me Scottish friends. But I digress…”
This was going nowhere. Michael stared at George, listening to him ramble about how pompous a man Lord Suthenshire had once been. After a while, he began to look right through him, his mind wandering.
What would Lady Elaine be like in a place like this?
He couldn’t believe he was even imagining such a thing. A lady such as herself would never set foot in such an establishment. Actually, she would never enter the London slums at all. Michael knew most—if not all—of the ladies in his life would turn their noses up in disgust. So why did he get the feeling she wouldn’t?
His gaze drifted to the only empty chair in the tavern, set against a window. He thought of her sitting there with her hands folded in her lap, her hair draped over one shoulder, her feet tucked under the chair. She would be staring at everything with wide-eyed curiosity, much like she had last night during Lord Jones’ ball. Would there be distaste in her eyes? Michael couldn’t imagine it. He couldn’t think of her ever turning her nose up at anything or anyone.
Why? Why did he have such assumptions when he hardly knew her?
Michael tore his eyes away, annoyed with himself for getting distracted once more. But when he began to listen again, George was going on about the clothes he’d purchased for himself, which Lord Suthenshire had not liked, and he stopped listening again.
Time was slipping away, and this conversation was going nowhere. George Horton was the first man who didn’t hold influence amongst British nobles Michael had gotten the chance to speak to and he’d hoped the conversation would help put together a few pieces he was missing. But if George continued talking about unimportant things, then it was simply a waste of his time. He would have been much better off progressing in his quest to get closer to Lady Elaine. She would have certainly been better company. Though he supposed her afternoon must have been occupied by a potential suitor or two. A lady like her couldn’t possibly go unnoticed after her appearance at the ball last night.
A twinge of something unpleasant pricked him at the thought of another gentleman trying to gain Lady Elaine’s favour. That was his job. Even if it came at the behest of trying to tear down her family.
“...and of course, none of the other gentlemen in the meeting liked when I said that so—”
“Wait, what was that?” Michael cut in, refocusing with a frown.
George blinked. “What was what?”
