17
Berkley’s, Beau’s gentleman’s club, was quiet in the late afternoon. Men were either reading the papers or relaxing in the smoking rooms to enjoy a quiet moment away from the bustle of the streets outside. Beau reclined in his favorite chair in the main salon, watching the men come and go from his somewhat hidden spot in the distant corner of the room.
More than one older fellow had taken to napping in these overstuffed chairs, and had he been in a better mood, Beau would have smiled at the occasional snores coming from the nearest man who had a tea cup precariously balanced on one knee whilst he slept. But Beau was far too distracted to really notice. Lennox’s question about New Orleans left him feeling cornered and conflicted.
“Boudreaux?” A voice drew Beau’s focus from his inner t
