Page 36 of The Brothers Hawthorne

The Proprietor.Jameson could almost taste the thrill of his next impossible task.Get his attention. Win entrance to the Game.

“Woman to woman,” Zella said to Avery, “let me help you become a bit more acclimated.” She nodded to tables as she passed. “Whist. Piquet. Vingt-et-un.”

Jameson didn’t recognize the first two games, but he was able to quickly figure out the last one. “Twenty-one,” he translated. “As in blackjack.”

“In the era in which the Devil’s Mercy was founded, it was known as vingt-et-un.”

Jameson took that as an indication that the Mercy wassupposedto feel like leaving the world’s present reality behind.

“I don’t suppose there’s a poker table?” Jameson said dryly.

Zella nodded to a set of ornate stairs. “Poker is played on the balcony. A recent addition. Seventy years ago, perhaps? As you’ll discover, most games played here go back much further.”

Jameson had the feeling that when the duchess saidgames, she wasn’t referring only to those being played on the tables.

“And the Proprietor?” Jameson asked. “Is he here tonight?”

“I’ve found it best to assume he’s everywhere,” Zella said. “We are, after all, in his domain. Now,” she continued, having finished their little promenade, “if the two of you will excuse me, I have an eidetic memory, a reputation at the tables, and a plan.” The duchess turned her head toward Avery. “If anyone here makes you uncomfortable or does something they should not, know that you have an ally in me. Outsiders should stick together—to a point. Bonne chance.”

Jameson watched Zella walk away and mentally translated her parting words.Good luck.He scanned the room, taking it all in: so many games, so many possibilities, one task at hand. Feeling like an electric charge through his veins, Jameson turned to Avery and nodded to the staircase to the balcony overhead.

“What do you say, Heiress?” Jameson whispered. “Ready to lose?”

CHAPTER 27

GRAYSON

Grayson imported the photographs he’d taken of Gigi’s key the night before to his laptop. Using his hand in the photo for scale, he calculated the key’s dimensions, double-checked those calculations, and used them, along with a ghost image of the key, to begin building a digital model. By the time the Haywood-Astyria’s personal concierge came to check on him midday, he was nearly done.

“Is there anything we can get you, sir?”

For a black-card guest at this establishment, that question didn’t refer only to hotel amenities. “I’m going to need a 3D printer,” Grayson replied. He didn’t have to provide a rationale for the request, so he did not. “Please.”

The concierge left. Grayson finished his work. Saving it, he made a second, nearly identical file, altering the key’s teeth just enough to render this one useless.Sorry, Gigi.Not allowing himself to wallow in that thought, he turned his attention to an equally unpleasant one. “What exactly does one wear to a high school party?”

Even when Grayson had been in high school, he hadn’t ever needed the answer to that question. His brothers had attended such parties occasionally, but Grayson had never seen the point. And if hehadgone, he wouldn’t have wasted a single second deciding what to wear. A fine suit was like armor, and Grayson had been raised to walk into every room armed.

But not tonight.

Tonight, he needed to blend in. Unfortunately, Grayson Davenport Hawthorne knew nothing about blending. “Shorts?”

Thankfully, his phone rang before he could meditate too long on that possibility. “Zabrowski,” Grayson answered, sliding smoothly into business mode. “I trust you have answers for me.”

If you allow people to fail you, he could hear his grandfather lecturing,they inevitably will. So don’t give them the option.

“I ran a basic background check on Kent Trowbridge,” the private investigator reported.

“Do I pay you,” Grayson said evenly, “forbasic?”

“And then I fleshed it out,” Zabrowski said hurriedly. “As you’ve probably gathered, the guy’s a lawyer—and very connected. Comes from a whole family of lawyers. Or maybedynastyis the better word.”

“I take it they’re financially…stable,” Grayson translated.

“Very. And interestingly for your purposes, the guy grew up alongside Acacia Grayson née Engstrom. The Trowbridge and Engstrom families go way back.”

Grayson filed that piece of information away. “Anything else?”

“He’s widowed, one son.”