My Lord Hercules
“his old friend Albie Potsdon complained as he sank against the squabs and looked at his watch fob, “I wanted to play Hazard some time tonight.”
“You always lose at Hazard,”
Harry replied, peeking out the window of his brother’s coach. “I’m doing you a favor.”
“A favor?” Potsdon protested. “How exactly are you doing me a favor by spying on Martston House?”
Harry kept his eyes trained on the home in question. “You can’t lose your blunt if you’re here with me, now, can you?”
“What exactly are we doing here?”
That was the question, wasn’t it?
Harry had no right, no reason, to keep a vigilant eye on Marston House. Just a feeling that he should be there. And despite the fact that she hated him, he was still drawn to her. He still wanted to make sure she was safe. Although, he’d rather not be alone while he did it, and Potsdon had always been fairly amusing.
“Waiting.”
“For…” Potsdon prodded.
For Harry’s destiny? His old friend would laugh him out of the coach if he said such a ridiculous thing.
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