Page 42

Derek stood and grabbed his coat. He called the footman to bring the carriage around. He knew exactly where he could go where he wouldn’t run into anyone from thetonand therefore wouldn’t feel the need to adhere to any of the blasted rules of polite society.

Derek grimaced at the words.Polite society. What an absolute joke. There was nothing polite about it.

On the short ride into the lesser side of London, Derek peered out the window contemplating every decision that led him to this exact spot. Nothing he could have done would have changed the outcome thanks to his blood. This appointment was passed to him by a relative. He was always destined to live this life.

The carriage settled outside a tavern he used to frequent when he was in town on business. He stepped outside the carriage and took in the sagging outer wall, and for the first time ever, he knew how a wall felt. He, too, felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. He just needed one night to set that weight down and remember what life was like before inheriting a dukedom.

Derek stepped inside, giving his eyes a second to acclimate to the low light. Despite the disrepair of the outside, the inside was clean and well-maintained. Charlie, the old owner, always refused to fix the outside. “If people want to judge my establishment on looks, then they can drink somewhere else.” Not only did it keep the bloody aristocrats out but the ambiance of the inside held no refuge for delinquents and ne’er-do-wells. It was the perfect place for Derek to escape the pressure of the business world without fear of getting a venereal disease just by touching something.

“Oi! Do my eyes deceive me or is that boss himself, Derek Fletcher, walking through my doors?”

Derek smiled, already feeling freer than he had in weeks. “Charlie, you old devil, you still own this hovel? I thought someone would have tossed you out on your arse years ago.”

Charlie smiled wide, revealing missing teeth. He lost them intervening with a street altercation between a would-be robber and their victim. Like his outer wall, he refused to get them fixed.

“They tried,” he said with a wink. “The usual, Boss?”

Derek tilted his head, relishing the old nickname. It reminded him of his early days in business when a lot of his deals were made in back rooms, Charlie’s included.

“You know me too well, Charlie.”

The old man chuckled as he poured the whisky and handed it to Derek. “Word on the street is you’ve got yerself a nice duchy now, eh?”

Derek sighed. He was hoping word of his new venture didn’t make it here, but London was a small town. He shrugged. “You heard right, but let’s not talk business tonight, mate.”

Charlie let out a loud, cackling laugh. “You hear that, boys,” he looked at the men bellied up to the bar, “the Boss here doesn’t wanna talk business. As if that’s not the only thing he knows.”

“Oi, I ‘eard he knows a lot of other things!” A drunk from further down the bar shouted much to the amusement of the men around him.

Derek raised his hands to quiet their laughter. The men were all businessmen traveling from various parts of Britain just looking for a night to let loose. Derek paid them no mind.

“All right boys. Settle down. I just want a drink.” He found an empty table close enough to the bar yet far enough away from the drunkards getting lost in their cups.

“This seat taken?” A warm, feminine voice floated over his shoulder. He turned to see a voluptuous red head staring down at him. Her eyes were lit with mischief and fire.

She was pointing to the chair next to him. Derek relaxed into his chair. “It’s all yours, sweetheart.”

“Oy, sweetheart. Well, aren’t you a charmer? You hear that, Charlie?” she called without moving her eyes from Derek’s. “This one here thinks I’m a sweetheart. How comes you don’t talk to me like that?”

Charlie laughed as he wiped down the bar. “Because I know ya!” The bar erupted in laughs again.

The woman waved off Charlie as she sat. She extended her hand to Derek. “Victoria Banks and you are?”

Derek took her hand and raised it to his mouth. “Derek Fletcher,” he said after placing a chaste kiss to the top of her hand.

“Wow. You’re not from around here, are you?” she asked, taking in his attire.

Derek shrugged. “Not originally, no. I used to do business here years ago. Charlie and I go way back. But life led me down an unexpected path, and now, I’m back. I figured I’d check in on my old mate to see if he was still alive.”

Victoria snickered. “Barely.”

Derek smiled, enjoying her company and the fact that her soft, pliable body was so close to his. “How about you? I haven’t been here in years, but I don’t remember you. What brought you to this fine establishment?”

Once again, Victoria’s face widened into a bright smile. “I escaped the east side of Whitechapel a few years ago and made my way into London hoping to find work. Charlie here,” she said with a nod in his direction, “took me in, gave me a respectable job, and the rest is history.”

Derek titled his head. “Respectable job?”

Victoria swatted him. “What, you think I’m a strumpet?” Her mock horror only added to her allure.