“A notorious place.” Only a fool with a death wish failed to settle his account with the house. The serpent was a symbol of Satan, so it was unsurprising to find that many men sold their souls there.
“It has a certain reputation for attracting the dissolute,” she replied.
“I know it well.”
“Then you know the proprietor.”
Every new patron seeking entrance to the club had to arm wrestle the Irishman with bushy red brows. “Dermot Flannery has a fondness for throwing non-payers into the Thames. Often with a cannonball shackled to one ankle.”
“That is a fictional tale used to scare the children.” A smug grin formed on the lady’s lips. “Even so, he is not the proprietor.”
Damian snorted. “Trust me, I have been a patron of that club for years and have met Flannery on many occasions.”
“Of course you have. Dermot Flannery is paid handsomely to play his part.”
Intrigued, Damian straightened. “Then who the hell owns the club?”
“I do.”
It took a few seconds for the words to penetrate.
“I beg your pardon?” Perhaps he had misheard.
“I own The Silver Serpent.”
“If this is a ploy to impress me—”
“Why on earth would I want to impress you? The details of ownership are irrelevant. But to satisfy your insatiable curiosity, know that my father purchased the club in my aunt’s name. The conditions of her will stated that Mr Flannery would act in my stead until I came into my inheritance on my twenty-first birthday.”
Damian dragged his hand down his face as he tried to absorb the shocking information. One pressing question burst forth. “Then why marry Steele when you had only to wait to claim your inheritance?”
“Because I knew nothing about the club until Mr Flannery found me a year ago.”
“How is that possible? Surely your father informed you of your legacy. Surely he left financial matters in the hands of a solicitor.”
The widow sighed. “My father trusted no one other than Mr Flannery. He went to great lengths to keep the information from me. Upon my father’s death, Mr Flannery was instructed to retrieve me from the seminary, but that is where things get far more complex.”
By all accounts, his life wasn’t the only one based on secrets and lies.
“And it did not occur to you to tell me all this during our meeting at the inn?”
“What? While locked in a bedchamber with you half-dressed? Forgive me if I struggled to concentrate on the matter at hand. Besides, you seemed so confident in your desire to act impulsively, and I needed to know I could trust you.”
For the second time since reacquainting with the widow, the pang of shame returned. She was right. Arrogance was his downfall. He had made too many assumptions, presumed there must be a certain element of exaggeration when it came to the mounting death threats.
“And you trust me now?”
“More than I did when we met at The Cock and Magpie.”
He wasn’t sure what had changed since their meeting at the inn. Indeed, he hadn’t made things easy. Anger and frustration—that she hid her true nature behind this ridiculous disguise—still gnawed away inside. Needles of guilt pricked his conscience, too. Perhaps he should have offered the poor actress more than food and firewood. Made a noble gesture to help her, one that did not involve making her his mistress.
“And so Joshua Steele knows you own the debts he incurred at The Silver Serpent?”
“Yes, but he thinks I purchased his vowels from Mr Flannery. Society believes the Widow can do anything she sets her mind to.”
“Why did Joshua not repay the debts upon gaining his inheritance?” Surely when Lord Steele died, he left his son a reasonable sum.
“Because he inherited his father’s sizeable debts. And there is little he can do with the entailed property.”