Chapter Ten

T his was a bad idea.

Lily knew it the moment she stopped in front of The King’s Head, which she now realized she had passed by many times before, accepting it as part of the scenery. Usually, her view of the dark red brick building with its black timber beams was through the carriage window.

She took a deep breath for courage before stepping beneath the hand-painted sign of a regal monarch and pushing through the heavy green door with its brass handle. She stopped for a moment in the entryway, pausing to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim interior.

Every head in the pub turned to stare at her, although mercifully, there were few present midday, midweek. Most men sitting at the bar looked like they had become permanent residents of their stools.

Once her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she took in the dark oak beams and worn leather booths, her gaze drawn to the roaring hearth, scenting the air with wood smoke mingled with ale.

She could picture it during the evening, the tables filled with patrons and pleasantries, while for now, the polished mahogany bar, lying beneath brass lanterns, was the only surface in use.

A throat cleared from the bar, and Lily turned her attention to the barkeep, who stood with burly arms crossed in front of him. His eyes were both curious and suspicious above a pointed nose and large mustache.

“Are you lost, miss?”

“No,” she said, rushing forward, equally wishing she had asked Emmaline to accompany her while also eager to prove that she could do this independently. “I am looking for Mr. Samuel Pritchard. I believe he works here in the offices of the Manchester United Club.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Pritchard,” the barkeep said, one side of his lips twitching into what hinted at a smile. “Through that back hallway, up the stairs to yer right.”

“Thank you,” Lily said before hurrying away from the curious stares.

When she reached the top of the stairs, it was like she had stepped into a different building.

She was met with a quieter, more refined atmosphere, a narrow hallway lined with faded wallpaper stretching before her.

As she slowly walked down it, the wooden floor creaked beneath her feet until she reached an open door at the end of the hall.

She craned her neck around the heavy oak door, finding an open room full of large desks cluttered with papers. Shelves around the room were filled with ledgers and the odd trophy, while windows overlooked the busy street below, the panes slightly warped with age.

And in the middle desk sat a tall, thin man with curly grey hair and a small mustache struggling to find purpose.

“Excuse me? Are you Mr. Pritchard?”

The man looked up with a gasp, pushing his spectacles up his nose as he tried to peer through them at Lily, but they kept sliding back down.

“Yes,” he said, standing in a hurry. “That’s me. What can I do for you?”

“I thought we should meet,” Lily said, stepping into the room before the desk. “I am Miss Lily Evans and have been keeping the books for the club over the past few weeks.”

His face immediately hardened, and Lily realized he was likely not as pleased about the help as she would have guessed.

“I know who you are, Miss Evans.”

He did not invite her to sit, so she took it upon herself to drag a small chair over and take a seat.

“I apologize for not coming to visit sooner, but I was unaware of your role in the club. I hope that my notes have been helpful. I have been submitting them through my father.”

She held her ledgers in her hand as she looked at him, wondering what he had thought of her weekly submissions.

“Yes, I have seen them,” he said, waving to one of the many haphazard piles on his desk. “I am uncertain what you expect me to do with them.”

“Well, I have noted all of the club’s expenses and revenue and have compared them to the records I was provided from the bank,” she said.

“I am aware.”

He was certainly not welcoming. Lily decided it might be best to get right to it, for he didn’t seem inclined to make pleasantries.

“Have you noticed the small discrepancies?” she said, leaning forward. “They are minor, but it seems that the club is missing money, that there have been extra amounts added where there shouldn’t be.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair, not meeting her eye. “I have not seen such a thing.”

“Then you must not have looked at my notes,” she persisted, and he leaned forward, holding a hand between them.

“I appreciate your concern, Miss Evans, but please know that I have everything well in hand. I worked many years at a bank, and this is inconsequential to the amount of money I took care of there. I will continue to receive your ledgers and add them to my accounts, but do not concern yourself with any explanations. Do you understand?”

Lily blinked. Here, she thought he would appreciate such information, but instead, he seemed almost… defensive.

Interesting.

“Very well,” she said, uncertain of what else she could do. “I suppose we have nothing else to discuss, then.”

He nodded, dismissing her.

“It was good to meet you, Mr. Pritchard.”

“Goodbye, Miss Evans.”

She turned around to leave, her breath leaving her momentarily when she saw who was standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, eyes warm, the hint of a smile on his face.

Colin Thornton.

Colin couldn’t help his slow-spreading smile when Miss Evans noticed him.

Her eyes widened so that he could see every bit of their blue ocean, and she stopped in her tracks, her arms wrapped around the navy volume in her arms that he assumed was her ledger.

“Miss Evans,” he said warmly as he stepped into the room, noting that the club’s treasurer hadn’t noticed him until now. “It is good to see you.”

He lifted his head. “Mr. Pritchard.”

He knew the club’s treasurer only by sight, as Colin had been a frequent visitor of The King’s Head since joining Manchester Central.

“Mr. Thornton,” the treasurer said, knowing his identity. “Can I help you?”

Lily nodded her farewell to them both before stepping forward, but Colin held out a hand, placing it gently on her elbow.

“Stay, please, Miss Evans,” he said in a low voice, looking up to see Mr. Pritchard’s furrowed brow.

“I do not think Miss Evans needs to be present for a conversation between us,” he said, but Colin shook his head.

“She should, for her concerns might be related to mine.”

“Very well,” Pritchard said, his visible swallow a sign that he had cause to be concerned.

Colin took the seat Miss Evans had been occupying, noting that she sat in a chair across the room, close enough to hear their conversation but not so close that she was immediately involved.

“It has come to my attention that the players have not been provided all of the funding required,” he said. “We are being short-changed for travel, uniforms, and other items.”

“I am certain that is not the case,” Pritchard said nervously.

Colin leaned forward. “Are you calling me a liar?” he asked. “I find it very suspicious that you would first tell Miss Evans she need not be concerned with discrepancies before telling me that I am incorrect in how much the players are receiving.”

“Players are not paid, Mr. Thornton. You know that as well as anyone.”

“I do,” Colin said as he wondered how much the treasurer knew about his understanding with Lord Harcourt. “But our expenses can be covered. They must be, or half of us could never afford to play.”

“The money goes to your captain to distribute. Perhaps he is misusing it.”

Colin sat back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. That was rich.

“Our captain has been making up the difference.”

Lily gasped while Pritchard only shrugged.

“I know that I provide him with more than enough. I am not sure what else to tell you.”

“Very well, if that is how you want to play it,” Colin said, standing. “I am sure we will be speaking again.”

“I hope not. You and I have no business with one another.”

Colin turned to the door, looking at Miss Evans on his way out, inclining his head to the exit. He held an arm out when she stood, allowing her to walk before him.

“Good day, Mr. Pritchard,” he said, saying nothing else as they walked silently down the corridor and back into the pub.

“Will you join me for a drink?” he asked her, waving to a small, quiet corner of the tavern. “It must be quick, as I don’t have much time. I suspect we have a mutual concern.”

“Of course,” she agreed with a nod of her head.

Milton, the barkeep, came over and clapped one big hand on Colin’s shoulder. “Thornton, what are you doing here midday?”

“I had some club business to take care of, so the boss gave me an hour over noon. I’ll need to return shortly, though, so if you have soup and water, I’d appreciate it.”

“’Course,” Milton said before looking over to Miss Evans.

“The same, please,” she said, and Colin hid his smile, for he was sure that Miss Evans had never been in such an establishment before.

“Are you here alone, Miss Evans?” he asked, looking across the table at her nervous blue eyes.

“I am,” she said with a rush of breath. “Perhaps foolishly. I told my mother I was going to visit my friend – Emmaline – and I should have asked her to accompany me, but I wanted to prove to myself, if no one else, that I could do this alone.”

“Well, you seem to be doing a fine job,” he said. “I believe we have put Mr. Pritchard on notice.”

“You heard my conversation, then?”

“I did. Apologies for eavesdropping, but it was too interesting to walk away from.”

“It has to be related, does it not?” she asked, looking up at him eagerly. “I am not misunderstanding the numbers?”

“I don’t believe you are,” he said. “Pritchard is hiding something. I am just unsure if he is stealing from the club or if he is covering for someone else.”

“Perhaps he is being bribed? Or blackmailed?” she said, and Colin inclined his head.

“That could very well be. It is hard to imagine Mr. Pritchard a criminal.”

“So, what do we do?”

He grinned. He liked how she said “we.”

“Have you brought this up to your father?” he asked.

“I have,” she nodded, the expression on her face dropping slightly. “He does not seem particularly inclined to look into it, if he even believes me. He said he has far too much on his mind with issues at the mill.”

“I believe that,” Colin said with a grimace, considering all of the accidents the mill had befallen as of late.

So similar to the club.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. “You look very contemplative.”

“I am,” he said. “It all seems suspicious – issues with the club and the mill at the same time. As though someone is out to get your father.”

“What is wrong with the club besides the finances?” She leaned in toward him, and he could see the dark blue ring surrounding her irises as her cheeks turned slightly pink.

“I don’t think Joey’s injury was an accident,” he said in a low voice, looking from side to side to ensure no one was listening to their conversation. “The hole he stepped into was carefully dug.”

“How would someone have known he would step into it, though?” she asked, confused.

Colin shrugged. “No one could be certain, but it was the side of the field where he usually plays, and since we were playing the Ironworkers, I don’t suppose anyone was overly concerned about one of them getting hurt in his stead.”

“Is that all?”

“Well, there was the rescheduling of our match in the first place,” he said. “But that could just be a coincidence.”

“You were an evenly matched team with the Ironworkers.”

“Oh, you were watching?”

“Yes, of course,” she said before that beautiful blush filled her cheeks again. “My friend Emmaline is quite the ardent fan.”

“Ah, yes, Miss Whitmore,” he said. “Well, I am glad that you accompanied her.”

She looked down with a small smile that he found altogether too endearing as Milton brought their soups and waters.

“You do not drink?” she asked, and he shook his head.

“Not midday. I must return to the mill, and I want my mind to be clear.”

“I am sorry again about the mishap last week,” she said, biting her lip. “Thank you again for saving me. If you hadn’t been there?—”

Her breath caught, and he reached out and covered her gloved hand with his bare one.

“But I was. And that’s what matters.”

Their eyes caught and held, and Colin was filled with a great awareness that nearly took his breath away.

He didn’t know what it was about this woman.

But he didn’t want to let her go.