Chapter 31
He’d had a most satisfying run of luck at faro. Generally speaking, Sir Lyle was not a gambler and he disdained the dandies and fools who thought that the various gaming hells about London were the very apotheosis of adventure. The idiots led such sheltered lives that they did not have the faintest clue about true risk, true danger. He would love to see some of them sail through a storm on one of his ships. Just once.
But, since he was in London …
Sir Lyle slowly swirled the port in his glass. It had a pleasing aroma of cherries and dark wood. Although not nearly as good as the vintage he procured for himself, it was perfectly acceptable.
He snorted, a little irritated. It wasn’t as if he really wanted to be in London at all. He was extremely busy, and his man of business in
