Gideon’s stomach rolled, sweat running down his back.
“Who is he? This man who did all that?”
The man picked up his tankard and chuckled.
“I don’t know. It’s not like he’d tell the likes of me anyway, even if I did ask. He speaks like you though. Dresses a bit better though.”
Gideon laughed despite the situation.
“I normally dress a little differently.”
The man’s eyes twinkled for just a moment before he shook his head.
“Thought as much. Anyone with a careful eye can tell this ain’t the place you belong.”
“Can you tell me anything about him? Anything that might help me recognize the person who did that to me… my friend?”
It was clear that this person was one of his set, but that did not help things a great deal. He already knew that it was a gentleman of thetonwho was involved in their present circumstances.
“Can’t say much.” Taking another gulp of the ale in the tankard, the man’s speech began to slur a little again. “He was a bit taller than you, maybe. Quite thin. Dark hair.” Gideon rubbed one hand over his face, letting out an exasperated breath. “I am sorry if that’s not what you wanted.”
“It’s more than enough,” Gideon reassured him, not wanting him to think he wasn’t thankful, even if it wasn’t exactly the truth. The man smiled, picked up his tankard and drained it before getting up out of his chair, clearly ready to leave Gideon and the conversation behind. “Wait a moment.” Grasping the man’s arm, Gideon rose and pulled some coins from his pocket. “For your trouble.” He had done well at the gambling table, and it was no concern of his to give the man some monetary compensation for what he had told him. “I do hope nothing untoward occurs, as a consequence of you speaking with me.”
The man didn’t hesitate, pocketing the coins immediately
“Thank you. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“Can I ask your name?”
Shrugging, the man gave him a small smile.
“Richards.” And then he left, leaving Gideon to watch him walk away before sitting back down. Richards stopped suddenly, hesitated, then turned and made his way directly back towards him. “There’s one more thing I just remembered. That fellow you’re talking about? I do remember him mentioning a name. It was only in passing, and he was laughing about it with one of the other men who came here. Come to think of it, I think that man’s name was Montague, or something like it.”
Strangely, it was as if the alcohol had given him a little more clarity of mind. Gideon rose out of his chair.
“Montague, yes. Yes, I know that man. You recall this fellow speaking with Lord Montague?”
“Yes. They were laughing together about something. I am sure this other man - not Lord Montague - said something about a lady called Clara.”
“Clara,” Gideon repeated, his shoulders dropping. There would be more than a few young ladies in thetonwith that name.
Richards nodded, his gaze sliding away.
“I am sure that’s what he said. At least, Ithinkthat’s what he said.” Grinning suddenly, he pointed one finger at Gideon. “You know what it’s like when you’ve had a few drinks.” One shoulder lifted as he looked back at him. “Maybe that means something to you.”
I don’t think it does.
“Thank you. I am sure when I think about it, it will.”
Richards shrugged again, and then turned away without another word, slipping back through the crowd. Gideon sat back in his chair, strangely disappointed. He had thought for a moment that Richards was about to tell him something of consequence, but the name Clara meant nothing to him. He dropped his head forward, fighting against despair. He had learned something, at least. What had been spoken of had beenhisexperience;hehad been present here - and whoever the gentleman was that had injured him had taken him into the room to the side before throwing him out completely. There was as yet no clear indicator as to why such a thing had happened, but at least the vague memories he had of that night were correct.
“But why was I taken into that room?” he murmured to himself, shaking his head and pressing one hand to his forehead. “And who was it? Who did such a thing to me?”
A sudden shout and a scream caught his ears, forcing his head up as he looked around the room, wondering what had made such a loud exclamation. In a moment, the entire establishment was in uproar. Everyone was running towards the door, and Gideon found himself following them, unsure as to what it was that had taken place. He was pushed forwards, elbows thrust into his sides, and jostled furiously as he stumbled down the stone steps.
Richards was lying on the ground. Someone was bending over him, a candle in his hand to illuminate the man’s features. Gideon caught his breath, one hand going to his mouth. Was this his doing? Had this occurred because of his conversation with Richards, because of his insistence that they speak?
“He ain’t dead!” someone shouted, and Gideon closed his eyes in abject relief. “But he might be soon. There’s a lot of blood.”
