Scandalous Desires(12)
The lad leaned forward eagerly, forgetting that he liked to pretend an air of sophistication. Bran had been with Mick for the last six years or more. He was a pretty lad of twenty or so, all light blue eyes and red-brown hair pulled back into a queue. Made the girls quite swoon over him—much to Bran’s discomfort, for the lad was a solemn one.
Except as now when he had a scheme brewing in his brain.
Mick examined the area Bran had indicated. “What’re ye thinkin’ we can do with it?”
“We can buy the docks and charge for the use of them,” Bran said at once. He’d been contemplating his plan for a while, it seemed. “Or sell them again at a higher price in the future. It’s a bit of insurance against lean times.”
“Mmm,” Mick murmured. He hadn’t told Bran, but he already had “insurance.” “I do like the idea o’ insurance.”
Bran grinned, quick and hopeful. “Then you’ll buy the docks?”
Mick sighed, hating to disappoint the lad, but business was business. “If I go a-buyin’ docks and such, then I’ll be havin’ to hire secretaries and managers and the like to run the damn things. Might be more expense than profit.”
The corners of Bran’s mouth turned down—the boy hadn’t yet learned to hide his emotions properly. “If you wait, they’ll sell to someone else. We’ll have lost the docks and another mayn’t come up for sale for years.”
“And if I jump too soon, I’ll lose me money,” Mick said. “It’s an interestin’ idea, Bran, me lad, but I’ll have to think on it a bit.”
“But—”
Mick shook his head once, staring at the boy sternly. “And besides, I’ve other matters to settle first—ones involvin’ the Vicar.”
Bran looked away. “As you like.”
“I do like,” Mick said mildly as he rolled up the map. “What have ye found out for me?”
Bran sighed. “I saw his men lurking around the orphans’ home this afternoon after Mrs. Hollingbrook left. You got the babe out just in time, I’m thinking.”
“Lurkin’ in plain sight?”
“Aye,” Bran replied. “The Vicar’s men have become quite bold. They tramp about St. Giles in packs of four or five without a care in the world.”
“Fuck ’em,” Mick growled. “St. Giles is mine and I’ll see those bloody whoresons run out.” He stretched his neck. “And how did the Vicar find out about the babe in the first place is what I’m wonderin’.”
“You did have men watching her,” Bran pointed out.
Mick looked up, eyes narrowed, only to find Harry nodding thoughtfully.
“Might’ve led the Vicar straight to the babe,” Harry said.
Mick grunted. He didn’t like the thought that ’twas his own error that had led the Vicar’s men to the orphanage and the babe. There was another possibility, too: Had one of his men betrayed his secret to the Vicar?
“Then he knows that I have the babe within me palace,” Mick said slowly.
Bran nodded grimly.
Mick sighed. “Well, ’twas never me plan to hide the fact that I had her safe. He knows he must attack me palace to get to her—and that, I’m thinkin’, he’ll be loath to do.” He looked at Bran. “What have ye found out about the Vicar himself?”
“The Vicar’s got dozens of men around him at all times,” Bran replied. “He guards himself better than you, come to that. It’ll be a right job to get to him.”
“Ah, but get to him we must,” Mick said. “ ’Tis near the end o’ winter and he’ll be runnin’ low on grain for his damned gin stills. Have some o’ me men find out who’s supplyin’ him. I’ll offer the suppliers an incentive to quit doin’ business with the Vicar.”
“Very well.” Bran hesitated, then blurted out, “But I don’t see why you two are at war. He has his gin distilling and you have the river. How do your interests cross?”
Sad brown eyes rose up in his inner mind, the lilt of an Irish voice, Me darlin’ Mickey.
Mick grimaced, pushing the memories aside. “It’s a personal matter. One ye needn’t worry about.”
Bran frowned as Mick put away the map. “That’s your own affair, but we’re spending time on the Vicar and getting no money in return.”
“Aye, and I’m aware o’ it,” Mick said. “If I could end this, I would. But I’m afraid the Vicar isn’t such a reasonable gent as m’self.”