They walked up a narrow, dirty staircase. Griffith nearly shuddered at the mounds of dust and dirt in the corners of each stair. He really had become a nob, hadn’t he? Past Griffith wouldn’t have noticed the dirt. He just would have noticed if the ale was fresh or not, and would have drunk it no matter what the answer was.

They emerged at the top of the stairs to an equally narrow hallway, although it was so dark Griffith couldn’t see if it was as filthy. A blessing in literal disguise, perhaps?

“Here,” Baxter said, withdrawing a key from his pocket. He twisted the key in the lock, then thrust the door open and stepped inside, Griffith following after.

“You can sit there if you want.” Baxter gestured to a chair that had clothing piled up on it, while more clothing was scattered on the floor. He picked up the heap of clothes from the chair and dumped it onto the bed, then yanked a small stool from beside the bed and sat down on it, his knees raised at an awkward angle.

Griffith sat, hearing the strain of the chair and hoping it wasn’t well on its way to joining its compatriots in the corner.

“What did the duke say?” Baxter repeated.

Griffith appraised the man. What had she seen in him anyway? He was taller than average, and had all his features, but that was about the most he could say about him. His eyes were sharp, darting around the room as though waiting for trouble to spring up at any moment. Griffith had seen men look like that before, mostly when they had been on the run from something and had taken to the sea as a last resort.

He’d seen the same look in his own eyes when he’d first run off to sea. Which meant that this Baxter had little to lose.

“He didn’t say anything, which is why I am here. I am acting for the duke.”

Baxter’s eyes narrowed. “Acting for the duke? What do you mean?” He struggled to get to his feet, which was awkward, given how low the stool was. He gave up and sat back down, but his glare remained unrelenting, focused on Griffith.

Griffith didn’t care. He’d been on the receiving end of equally irate glares through his years of rising up through the naval ranks. One rotten scoundrel being angry with him was just about par for the course.

“That isn’t the point. How much do you want?”

Might as well get right to it. He didn’t want to stay in this filthy tavern for a moment longer than was necessary. He had a lady to woo, and a dukedom to prepare for.

“You know that I could ruin her just by revealing my presence in town.”