Ten Ways to Ruin

“Am I going to need it?”

“I believe so.”

Simon moved to the table by the gaming room and poured two crystal glasses with the amber liquid. He handed one to Albert before taking a seat behind his desk. “Do you know who is involved in this and why?”

Albert walked to a chair and sat down. After a long sip of whisky, he said, “There a man in Seven Dials named Richard Park. The story is that Park won a substantial amount at

a hell named All Angels Fall. He made short work of infiltrating the hell with cheaters and drunks to buy the owner out. Within six months, he was the new owner of the hell and got it at a price far lower than its worth before the trouble started.”

Simon took a sip of his whisky. “What does this have to do with me?”

“That was two years ago. Park now owns three hells in Covent Gardens and Seven Dials. The man’s ambitious and ruthless, as you were when you bought this place.

“There must be a hundred of hells in London. Why mine?”

Albert had the decency to stare into his whisky. “I might have tried to cheat the man. When he caught me, I chatted with him about you and your hell and how you crawled out of the dregs of Soho and gained wealth from Hell. I think he got it in his head to move up to St. James.”

Simon took another sip of his whisky to keep from lashing out at the man. “And Hell seemed a likely choice to him.” And Hardy’s place too. No doubt Albert told Park about Simon’s start at Hardy’s hell. The Royal Pigeon was far closer to St. James than Seven Dials.

A light rap sounded on the door.

“Come in.”

Hood walked in with a note. “This just came, and the footman is waiting for a reply.”

Simon opened the note and nodded. His brother had returned early and demanded Simon’s presence for dinner tonight. “Tell the footman I shall arrive at seven with bells on.”

Albert laughed, but Hood looked confused.

“Just tell the man I shall attend.”

“Of course,” Hood said and then departed with the message.

“All brawn and no brain, unlike Riley.” Albert stood. “I should take my leave now. What are you going to do about Park?”

“Bring him down,” Simon said in a low voice.

“Richard Park is a very dangerous man, Simon.”

“As am I.”

Albert nodded as he cleared his throat. “Simon, I know I wasn’t much of a father—”

Simon interrupted him with a snort. “The late duke was a better father than you.”

“Well, I hardly had thirty thousand to leave to you.”

“True, but the man never laid a hand on me either.”

Albert had the decency to blush and look away. “As I was saying, I wanted to apologize for my behavior. Your mother didn’t tell me the truth until you were six and looked nothing like me and scarcely like your mother. I loved her and thought she loved me. She never did, you know.”

Simon closed his eyes. Would any man have behaved much differently? Raising someone else’s son must have been difficult. “Didn’t the duke send money every month for my support?”

“She told me it was from her singing and a song or two she wrote.”

Dear God, the man was an idiot. They had never been wealthy, but they had food on the table every night and a small roof over their heads, even in the hard times. Something many boys in the area hadn’t had.

“Still, you took it out on me.”