Callum snorted.Constantinehad turned that estate around with the help of Mr. Pepperdine, and Ross had simply taken the credit.
Mr. Fitzgibbon gave Callum a confused look but continued. “His cousin was thought to be deceased, but he recently reappeared from the dead so the money from that estate is no longer at Mr. Fergussoune’s disposal. He was temporarily the marquess, and he had thought to receive money at that time, but it turned out getting his hands on the money he thought his cousin had received by wedding a young woman of thetonwas much more complicated than he’d realized. He was, however, going to wed the same woman and expected those funds to come to him.”
Callum clenched his teeth. “I’m the cousin you keep speaking of, and the woman Ross wanted to take funds from ismywife.”
Mr. Fitzgibbon’s eyes widened. “I beg your pardon,” he said with haste.
“No.” Callum waved a dismissive hand. “You didn’t know. I don’t suppose my cousin ever mentioned anything about me to you?”
The man shook his head. “Nothing personal. He told me of your death, of course, insomuch as he became the new marquess, and I am the one who had to tell him, unfortunately, that your wife’s money, though you received it upon wedding her, was only yours because she granted it to you. Given the money came from her aunt’s husband, who was a Scot, the inheritance was made under Scottish law and specifically to your wife, putting all the funds at her discretion. She had control of her funds transferred back to her after your death, though she did leave a great deal of her money in the Yorkshire estate to make it profitable.”
He knew all this. Before they’d wed, he’d learned that Constantine’s inheritance was tied to Scottish law, and that had been fine with him. “What did he do with the money he collected from the Scottish estate?”
“He invested it in a shipping company. Very recently, actually. All of it, though I advised him not to. He felt quite certain the investment would be profitable, which I believe it will, too, but it’s never good to tie up all of one’s funds in one investment, especially when those you invested with have a clause in the contract that if they discover you to be of questionable character, they can sell your shares and return to you only half of what they received for them.”
Callum drummed his fingers on his leg, thinking. Would the owners of the shipping company think his cousin forcing unwanted favors on one of his staff constituted “questionable character”? Callum did, but he was not so naive not to acknowledge that not all noblemen felt that way. Many men of thetonfelt it was their right to do what they wished to their staff and that the women in particular should be grateful for the lord’s attention. That attitude disgusted Callum.
“What shipping company did he invest in?” Callum asked.
Mr. Fitzgibbon’s gaze shot to Beckford, who nodded for the man to continue. “He invested in Star Lines, owned by the Marquess of Lionhurst and Mr. Sutherland.”
Lionhurst!
Callum had met the marquess years before when his mother had dragged him to some God-awful garden party where she’d wanted Callum to meet the marquess’s daughter. The man had taken one look at Callum and told him not to even think of speaking to his daughter until he matured and was actually worthy. Callum had been twenty at the time and firmly entrenched in trying to be everything his father did not want him to be. If Callum recalled correctly, he’d been quite foxed when he’d gone to the garden party.
“Come on,” Callum said grimly to Beckford as Callum rose.
“Where are we going?”
“I need to pay a social call to the Marquess of Lionhurst,” Callum said.
“You won’t find Lionhurst home tonight,” Beckford said, grinning smugly.
Callum frowned. “How the devil do you know that?”
“He’s a silent partner in another one of my clubs, the Vagabond Club, and he’ll be there tonight playingvingt-et-un.”
“Beckford, if you weren’t a man, I’d kiss you.”
“Thank God for us both that Iama man, then,” Beckford retorted.
Callum surveyed the well-disguised private gentlemen’s club that Beckford had purchased some three years ago, as he’d explained on the ride to the Vagabond Club. Beckford’s vision had been to make it the place where the lords of the shipping docks could go—gentlemen, he told Callum, who drank and gambled more than any men Beckford had ever seen. Lionhurst had approached Beckford last year about buying into the club and using it to keep an eye on his competition.
“Nice disguise,” Callum said, taking in the sign, a piece of wood really, that was nailed over a door and readMartin Morvin, Pawnbroker. The building looked old and neglected, as did the surrounding buildings.
“Thanks,” Beckford said, grinning. “I can’t take credit, though. The club has been hidden like this for years.
“Shall we?” Beckford turned toward the red door, knocked three times, paused, and knocked again. The door creaked open, and Callum followed Beckford through the dark threshold. “Welcome to the Vagabond Club,” Beckford said.
Beckford exchanged a greeting with the two men who were standing guard at the front entrance. They were both big, burly men who looked like they enjoyed a good fight. Callum didn’t doubt they saw their share manning the door of this club. Beckford strode through an ill-lit corridor, Callum close behind. “I would’ve thought you and Lionhurst could afford better lighting.”
Beckford chuckled. “Just wait.” He paused at yet another door, opened it, and light flooded the room. “Is this enough light for you?”
Callum whistled as he followed Beckford into a large room with gleaming chandeliers and a pristine parquet floor. Mahogany hazard tables were placed around the room, and right up at the front, at one of the tables, sat a man with peppered, dark hair and a noble, determined face with a square jaw.Lionhurst.Callum recognized him immediately. He looked much as Callum remembered. He sat with only one other person, a lad who looked closer to a boy than a man. He was the mirror image of Lionhurst. “Is that Lionhurst’s son?” Callum asked.
Beckford nodded. “Give me a moment to see if now is a good time to speak with him.”
Callum watched as Beckford made his way over to the table. He said a few words to Lionhurst, and the man’s gaze immediately lifted and latched on to Callum. With a quirk of Lionhurst’s eyebrows, he murmured something to his son. The lad rose and disappeared from the room. Then the man waved Callum over.
