He’d look even better when he was dressed. Nico and Mr. Hawkes had spent some time working out the best way to flatter Pilcrow’s gangly form into “tall and slender,” with the dour tailor becoming positively animated by the challenge. It had been thoroughly entertaining, and Nico was looking forward to seeing the results. He wanted Pilcrow transformed; he wanted him alive to the pleasures of owning beautiful things; he wanted him to look at his new wardrobe, his new self, and think,I owe this to my friend the Comte.
Nico was hoping it would pay off, of course, but he liked to take pride in his work, no matter its nature, and there was a principle at stake. A man should not make himself duller just because other people were dull around him. Pilcrow didn’t have to squash himself before anyone did it for him.
Maybe he would do so anyway, and retreat into blue, buff, or black, like all the other boring men in this boring city. That would be a pity because his whole being so evidently thrilled at colour, and also because they would have wasted a lot of his money. Oh well. He had it to waste.
They’d left Hawkes with a vast order that meant the tailor would refrain from dunning Nico on his overdue bill for a while longer. It was a fair trade. Pilcrow might have gone anywhere: to Weston or Scott, or even Mr. Cheney, Hawkes’s bitter rival. But Nico had steered London’s newest set of deep pockets to Mr. Hawkes, and he’d take a few extra months’ credit as his reward. He intended to buy himself a fair bit of breathing space from his other debts this way, so they were going to look at boots and hats tomorrow; then there were all sorts of sundries to be purchased, and once that was done, a visit to Weston or Cheney would seem necessary. Nico could stave off most of his creditors on the back of Pilcrow’s money, and he hadn’t even taken a penny from the man. That would be one over on the suspicious butler, who had given him the fish-eye this morning, and was doubtless warning Pilcrow not to trust him even now.
The butler… “He needs a valet,” Nico said aloud.
“Eh?”
“Pilcrow. He’ll need a valet for his new wardrobe, and he’s probably thinking of promoting one of the footmen. That won’t do.”
“You’re going to become his valet?” Eve suggested sarcastically.
“No, you are.”
“Excuse me?”
“Think, will you?” Nico said. “Pilcrow’s looking for support, and I don’t want him getting that from the butler. He doesn’t like me.”
“Good taste.”
“Shut up.” This was a good idea, Nico was sure. Pilcrow needed a valet, Nico needed that valet to be on his side, and if Eve was paid, fed, and housed somewhere less likely to set off a chesty cough, Nico could live somewhere even cheaper thantheir current rathole. It would be safe, he was sure: Pilcrow was decent, and Eve had the skills to pull it off. This was brilliant, in fact. “A valet’s closer than a butler, so you can get the upper hand over that suspicious sod Thorpe. I have Pilcrow in the day, you have him at night—”
“Sounds like fun.”
Nico made an offensive gesture. Eve sighed. “Fine, fine, you’re probably right. Valet. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
Nico went down to see Jacky Gaskin the next morning. He wore the green coat—if Gaskin intended to take the coat off his back, it should be the poisonous one—and slipped his folding knife into a pocket just in case.
The moneylender’s seat of power was in Nag’s Head Court, a narrow, dark, and twisty space of grimy low buildings with rather too many hard-faced men loitering on its wet and dirty cobbles. For all that, it was not far from the grand new Bank of England buildings. Birds of a feather, Nico supposed.
Gaskin wasn’t only a moneylender, of course. They would have a great deal less to worry about if he simply eased the flow of capital around the capital. Unfortunately, he had been a notorious bruiser in his time, and now headed a wide-ranging operation selling flesh, debts, stolen goods, and violence.
You wouldn’t go to him for a loan if you had a choice. Eve had not had one, since a decent, reputable moneylender wanted things like collateral, a fixed abode, or a reasonable explanation of how the funds would be paid back. Gaskin was where you went in the absence of all the above, and he charged interest accordingly. Although—
“Eighteen hundred pounds?” Nico yelped. “Eve borrowed twelve hundred!”
“On strict repayment terms,” Gaskin said. “There were penalties for not paying me back by the due date, and that’s well past. So I’m charging interest.Compoundinterest.”
“You need return on your investment,” Nico said, recovering a bit of his composure. “I quite understand, and you will have it. My cousin’s investment is an excellent one, and it will mature.” He hoped to God Gaskin didn’t ask for details.
The fellow didn’t look like he cared. “All very well, but I was told you’d gone to get the money last week. Now you’re back, and I’m still waiting.”
He was a big man, muscular still, presumably from a youth spent hitting people, though carrying a lot of weight now. He must be worth a fortune, but he hadn’t troubled to make himself look respectable: he wore a lurid Belcher neckcloth in green with yellow spots, boots made for kicking heads, and a battered old coat with suspicious stains on the cuffs. He wanted you to look at him and see a pugilist, a brute, a threat.
He was cleaning his fingernails while they spoke, with a little scratchy noise and a big knife. They unquestionably needed cleaning; Nico nevertheless wished he wouldn’t. It was a pointed gesture in more ways than one.
“I encountered an unforeseen obstacle,” Nico told him, keeping his voice easy. “A temporary impediment, no more, and we are working even now to remedy the situation. You will be paid, Mr. Gaskin. Give me a little time, and the money is yours.”
“You’ve had all the time I agreed to, and more.”
“I grant that. I am grateful for your patience.”
“What makes you think I’m patient?”
A bead of sweat had started trickling down Nico’s spine,between his shoulder blades. “Your wisdom,” he said. “You understand that my cousin intends to pay in full very soon. You do not permit your very natural annoyance at this slight delay to outweigh your soon-to-be-made profit. I applaud your judgement.”