Page 51 of The Brothers Hawthorne

That promise hit with the force of a punch. Jameson’s ears roared.Nothing matters unless you let it.“Why would you do that?” he shot back.

“Why not?” Ian replied impulsively. “I’m not the settling down type. It’ll have to go to someone, won’t it?” The idea seemed to be growing on him. “And it would drive Simon mad.”

That last sentence, more than anything else, convinced Jameson that Ian’s offer was genuine.If I win him Vantage, he’ll leave it to me.The Hawthorne side of Jameson recognized the obvious: He could win it for himself, cut Ian out.

But then it wouldn’t be a gift from his father.

Jameson didn’t linger on that thought for long. “Tonight, Avery received an invitation to the Game,” he told Ian. “I haven’t. Not yet.”

Ian’s bloodshot eyes focused on Jameson—and only on Jameson. “Did the Proprietor appear at the top of the grand staircase and descend?”

Jameson gave a sharp nod. “With Avery on his arm.”

“Then we must act quickly.” Ian began pacing, and Jameson knew the man’s mind was racing, knew exactlyhowit was racing. “The rest of the players will be chosen tomorrow evening. Tell me what you’ve done so far to win entrance to the Game.”

Not enough, Jameson thought. “Tell me what you did to get banned first,” he countered. “The Factotum knows that I’m your son.”

Ian ran a hand roughly through his hair. “Little bastard knows everything.”

Jameson shrugged. “That seems to be his job—that and keeping the membership in order.” He thought back to the way Rohan had dealt with those men. “What did you do, Ian?”

What else don’t I know?

“I lost.” Ian turned his palms toward Jameson in an insincere mea culpa. “People who lose too much get desperate. The Factotum does not trust desperate men.” Ian’s lips curled into a smile, dark and wry. “And I may have upturned a chair or two.”

So you have a temper.Jameson didn’t dwell on that. This wasn’t a time for dwelling on anything. “There were two men there tonight. I don’t know what they did, exactly, but the Factotum—Rohan—he rattled off a series of dates, presumably ones on which they’d committed some kind of transgression. He offered them the chance to play him.”

Ian tilted his head to the side, his body very still. “What were the terms?”

“If one or both of them won, they could fight it out in ring.”

“Ah.” Ian lifted a brow. “Loser in the ring takes the punishment for both. It would certainly make for motivated fighters—and a great deal of money wagered on the result. But that’s not what happened, is it?”

“Rohan won the hand. He said they knew what would happen if he did.” Jameson had a strong sense that everyone in that room had known. Everyone but him. “Were they banned the way you were?”

“Exile is considered a lighter punishment.” Ian’s characteristic air of detached amusement was back. “No, those poor sods, whoever they are, will pay a much steeper price.” Ian rocked back on his heels. “It’s not a coincidence the Factotum made an example of someone right before the Game.”

Jameson’s eyes narrowed. “What do you know that I don’t?”

“Your heiress, she didn’t actually join the Mercy, so I assume she didn’t have to pay the levy.”

Jameson thought back to Rohan’s initial offer.The levy to join the Devil’s Mercy is much steeper.“The cost of joining—how much is it?” When Ian didn’t reply, Jameson amended his question. “Whatis it?”

Ian turned back to the window, and Jameson had the vague sense that he was checking to make sure they weren’t being watched—or listened to. “There is a ledger in the Devil’s Mercy, as old as the club itself. To gain membership, to pay the levy, you must provide fodder for the ledger. Blackmail material that could be leveraged against you.”

Jameson felt his pulse speed up. “Secrets.”

“Terrible ones,” Ian agreed. “The Proprietor must have a way of keeping all those powerful men in line, after all.” Ian spoke like he wasn’t one of them. “A secret and proof. That’s what the ledger contains. Those who cross the Proprietor quickly find themselves at his mercy.”

The Devil’s Mercy.Suddenly, the club’s name held new meaning. “Does the Proprietorhaveany mercy?” Jameson asked.

“It depends on the offense. Occasionally, he’ll ruin a man simply to remind the rest of us that he can, but more frequently, the punishment fits the crime. Men who risk the Proprietor’s wrath find themselves at risk. Their levy becomes a prize to be won by their peers.”

Jameson’s mind raced as he put the pieces together. “The Game. It’s not just forassetsthe house has won over the course of the year.”

Ian’s eyes locked on to his. “The winner may choose: a coveted prize or a forfeited levy, a disgraced member’s page from the ledger.”

A terrible secret, Jameson thought.Blackmail material.The kind that could ruin a person.