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A nthony didn’t look at Cavendish. Instead, he nodded for the dealer to begin a new game. He’d been enjoying the play until Moore had called Renee a cheat. The Frenchman was a skilled player, if a coward for not standing up to Moore, but now that Cavendish had arrived the game had lost its appeal.

“How is the luck tonight, Hamilton?”

“I don’t believe in luck,” Anthony replied to Cavendish. “Winning takes skill, which I have.”

They both knew what had happened all those years ago, and that the tables of power had turned between them. Anthony no longer feared this man, and Cavendish knew it, even as he tried to intimidate him. Cavendish was now the weaker of the two of them.

There had been times over the years Anthony, Jamie, and Toby had made life extremely uncomfortable for the men who had treated them no better than animals.

“Lady Luck is always with me, Hamilton,” Cavendish drawled.

“Please accept my condolences, Cavendish. I hear your investment did not show the expected returns,” Anthony said with no sympathy. “I believe one of the larger investors pulled out.”

“How did you hear about that?” Cavendish snapped, laying a card which had him losing the trick, and Renee winning.

The Frenchman spoke little and instead concentrated on winning, which he was doing a great deal of this evening.

Anthony smiled, knowing it would not reach his eyes. “Nothing goes on in London relating to business opportunities that I do not know about. It would pay you to remember that.”

Cavendish’s lips drew into a hard line, and the hand he had rested on the table fisted. “You?” He scoffed. “All you care about are whores and alcohol.”

“That is not very nice,” Renee said in halting English.

“Who are you to speak to me that way?” Cavendish snarled, turning his attention from Anthony to the Frenchman, seeing an easier quarry to argue with. “What is your name?” Cavendish demanded.

“Mr. Renee,” the man said in French.

“Speak English!” Cavendish snapped. “Can’t abide foreigners who come to my country and don’t speak the language.”

Renee uttered a few words in French, which Anthony interpreted loosely to mean Cavendish was a fool with low intelligence, to which he replied “Oui” in total agreement.

“What did you just say?” Cavendish demanded. Clearly his French was not good.

“I wish to be an Englishman,” Renee lied.

More drinks arrived then, and the dealer dealt the cards. Anthony watched Cavendish’s anger grow as Renee won more hands. Anthony, too, held his own.

He felt the Frenchman’s tension climb every time Cavendish thumped his fist on the table or swore loudly. Renee wore glasses perched on the end of his narrow nose and this close, Anthony could see the beard and wig were indeed fake.

Why would anyone want a fake beard and wig if you were not deliberately hiding your identity?

The more he observed the Frenchman, the more something felt off about him. But what?

“I said I wanted a whiskey!” Cavendish snapped, slamming the empty tumbler down on the edge of the table.

Anthony knew many things about Cavendish. Like the fact he drank too much and flew into fits of rage easily. That his mistress was called Jasmine, and she thought him a selfish lover, but put up with him as he showered her with gifts. He also knew the man mistreated his staff terribly.

Know thy enemy.

“ Je quitte la table maintenant ,” Renee said softly.

The Frenchman had just said he was leaving the table, and Anthony was sure that was due to Cavendish’s behavior. Odd, considering he was in a gambling hell, where men behaved badly constantly.

“What did he say?” Cavendish demanded. “English, man!”

“He is French, Cavendish. I’m sure when you visit his country, those within its borders do not demand you speak their language,” Anthony said.

“Can’t abide the French.”

“I’m sure there are plenty who feel the same about the English.”

“I doubt that, Hamilton. We are far superior in every way,” Cavendish boasted.

“Thank you,” Renee said, and Anthony had a feeling he was deliberately misunderstanding Cavendish.

“Idiot can’t even understand me,” Cavendish said loudly, which had others around them sniggering.

“ Imbécile d’esprit petit .”

“ Oui ,” Anthony said, because Cavendish was a small-minded fool.

“Did you just insult me?” Cavendish demanded.

“French is a difficult language to grasp…for some,” Anthony drawled.

“It’s not an important language. English is all I need. Now I demand you tell me what he said, Hamilton. I heard him utter the word imbecile.”

Renee called him a strutting peacock this time, which made Anthony snort. The Frenchman clearly had a sense of humor.

“I never forget someone who offends me,” Cavendish snapped, now glaring at Renee.

“There must be an excessively long list by now,” Anthony added.

“Meaning what, Hamilton?”

“I’m quite sure you understood exactly what I said, Cavendish.”

The angry look on Cavendish’s face slid away suddenly, to be replaced by a smirk.

“I do hope dear Miss Spencer does not interest you, Hamilton? After all I did see you with her the other day, and you seemed quite chatty.”

He ignored the man and continued to play.

“Because I have plans for her, so keep your distance,” Cavendish persisted.

“I’m not sure what gave you the idea I care about your interests, Cavendish, but let me dissuade you of that notion. You have never, and will never, feature in my thoughts. You are of no consequence to me.”

Fiery red filled Cavendish’s cheeks at the insult.

“And I’m sure Miss Spencer will do as she wishes,” Anthony added.

Renee, who hadn’t left as he’d said he was, made a noise low in his throat that sounded like a growl. Anthony shot him a look, but with that beard and the thick glasses, he couldn’t tell what the man was thinking.

“She will do exactly as I wish. One of my strengths is discipline after all,” Cavendish added, recovering from the insult Anthony had given him.

He and Cavendish had never outright discussed what had taken place in Blackwood Hall, but the man across from him had alluded to it a few times. Anthony had not engaged until now.

“I’m sure I’ll break her spirit as I have done others,” Cavendish continued. Anthony knew all too well, like you , was what he wanted to add. “She is a woman, after all.”

“ Il est indigne de votre colère, mon seigneur, car c’est un lache ,” Renee said softly.

He is unworthy of your anger, my lord, as he is a coward.

“What I’ve always found,” Anthony said, in total agreement with Renee, “is that bullies pick on those they see as weaker than them because stronger opponents would turn them into sniveling cowards, which invariably they are.”

Cavendish rose from his chair, bracing his hands on the table and leaning in to glare at Anthony.

“I am no coward!”

“I don’t believe I mentioned your name,” Anthony said, rising and doing the same. Beside him Renee rose too. “But of course if my description fits you, then—”

“I will break you as I have done so before, Hamilton. Never forget that!” Cavendish roared, eyes blazing with rage now.

Anthony smiled but knew it would not reach his eyes.

“I would be very careful who you threaten, Cavendish. It will not go well for you.” He leaned in closer until their eyes met.

“This time you are the weak one, and I can destroy you with ease. Watch your back, my lord, and your purse, because both are in danger. Especially if you ever speak to me again as you just have.”

Cavendish spluttered, and Anthony smiled at the flash of fear he saw in his eyes.

“How dare a man like you threaten me!”

“Oh, I dare, and I can and will harm you if need be,” Anthony said softly. “Remember my words.”

He left before Cavendish spoke again. Renee was walking through the last door as Anthony reached it. He followed him to where they left their outer clothing.

Any encounter with Cavendish left a sour taste in Anthony’s throat, and tonight he’d showed his hand.

Before now, he’d just tolerated the man, but no longer.

He also now knew Cavendish had plans for Miss Spencer, and while she vexed him excessively, he would not wish a life with that monster upon anyone.

“Be careful of him, Renee,” Anthony said, because the man needed the warning. It did not take much to make an enemy of Cavendish, and he thought tonight that may have happened. “He will not forget your insults, even if he did not understand them all.”

The man shrugged as he slid his arms into his overcoat, and Anthony thought he had done what he could. It was not usually his way to intervene, but he’d felt the need. If the Frenchman had no wish to heed his warnings, then so be it.

He watched Renee raise the back of his wig to straighten the collar of his overcoat. Even in the dim light, he clearly saw the two small dark marks, before he lowered it again.

Had he seen those marks before?