Though the boy would give any man pause. Taking on another’s fellow’s get wasn’t for the faint of heart or short of coin. A fancy lord might take Matilda on as his commodity, but he’d not marry a woman hauling a brat around behind her.

Harry had trouble picturing Matilda as a siren. Not a role she’d try on out of anything other than necessity.

“I despair of you, ’Arry.” Sparky addressed his observation to the depths of his mug. “You were no sort of ’usband, you frittered away her money, and now you won’t stay dead.”

“Bad form, I know, but needs must. Last I heard, she hasn’t remarried. She either misses me or has learned her lesson, and if she’s not inclined to remarry, and she is finding consolation in the arms of a willing fellow, that creates another potentially interesting situation.”

Oh, the possibilities when a fancy lord took up with another man’s wife. Harry should have seen those possibilities much sooner.

“I miss Dublin,” Sparky muttered. “One of yer ’ouse-sellin’ rigs will keep a man in style for ages—or it should. Blackmail lacks fy-nesse.”

“I have a gentleman’s tastes, Sparky. What can I say?” And Sparky disliked blackmail precisely because it did take a delicate and patient touch, albeit such schemes lacked originality.

“Why don’t you just sell her ’ouse like you done them others? Pretend you own it, which you almost do, and then let it go at a fair price to another half-pay officer with six brats.”

“He had only five brats, and his brother bought the house for him rather than have the brats invade the family seat. The brother didn’t need the money, and I did.”

Sparky finished his drink. “And the brats needed that ’ouse, but now there’s no money and no ’ouse, thanks to you. You used to limit your marks to grown men who oughta know better.”

Sparky’s reproach stung a little, because it was true. A confidence man was allowed to lie to anybody but himself. “The officer was a grown man, and his brother should have known better.”

“End of the month,” Sparky said, rising, “I’m fer Dublin. Told Mary I’d tarry in London but a few weeks, catch up with old friends and look in on me sister. I’ll stop around St. Mildred’s and see what I can learn, but you’d be better off approaching yer missus quietlike and throwin’ yourself on her mercy. She’s not using the ’ouse, so maybe she don’t need the money. She for damned sure don’t need you.”

Sparky had a sister. That dubious blessing could skew a fellow’s perspective in sentimental directions.

“Matilda did need me,” Harry said, “and I came to her rescue, and then there’s the boy.”