Ashlyn Macnamara Read Free Page B

earth have you been up to that you need those kinds of funds?”
    George studied the pattern in the Axminster carpeting. “This and that. I may have got myself in a bit too deep at cards, on top of everything else.”
    Revelstoke eyed his freshly poured glass before slowly setting it aside. “Dare I ask what everything else comprises?”
    George shrugged. “A mistress whose tastes run to the expensive, mostly. She insisted on a fairly fashionable address, and I’ve fallen behind on the rent.”
    Revelstoke fixed his gaze on George. “Don’t you think it’s time you gave up that sort of living and settled down?”
    George stared at the ceiling beams. Dark and heavy, like the rest of the room. “Oh no. Don’t you start, too. Bad enough my mother’s planning on throwing every eligible young miss in attendance in my direction, I don’t need you waxing poetic on the virtues of married life. Besides, you can’t tell me keeping a wife and child isn’t any less expensive than keeping a mistress.”
    “But it is. No need to maintain separate addresses, for one thing. No need to staff two houses.”
    George wagged his head from side to side. “You’ve come over all practical since you became leg-shackled. It’s downright boring.”
    “With the right woman—”
    “There you go, sounding like my mother again. I will be the first to commend you on your excellent taste in brides. At least you had the foresight to choose one with wit and cleverness. I’m afraid there aren’t many others like your Julia, though. You’ll have to understand this mere mortal doesn’t possess your luck in that department.”
    Revelstoke rolled his eyes. “Now you’re just being absurd.”
    “Absurd or not, a betrothal is not going to solve my financial problems. Not unless you’ve invited an heiress or two who might be willing to overlook my long list of shortcomings.” He paused just long enough to allow Revelstoke to reply, knowing full well his friend didn’tmaintain the proper social connections to attract such an heiress.
    In the face of Revelstoke’s silence, he went on. “Since no heiresses seem to be in the offing, you might tell me which gentlemen among your guests might be persuaded to play a few hands of whist.”
    “Have you learned nothing at all from your current predicament?” Revelstoke pushed his glass away. “You’re in trouble because you played a few hands too many. Another game isn’t going to get you out. It may even put you in deeper.”
    “Then how do you propose I get my hands on five thousand? I need blunt and soon.”
    A line etched itself between Revelstoke’s brows. “This is about more than a demanding mistress.”
    “What makes you say that?”
    “Because if that were your only problem, you’d hand her her
congé
and be done with it. So perhaps you tell me the real reason you need so much money, and I’ll consider a small loan.”
    “You’re right.” George took the decanter and topped off Revelstoke’s glass before pouring himself another measure. Talking about that night inevitably called visions of an old school friend to mind. One who had been in far worse straits than George—straits narrow enough to drive a man to put a pistol in his mouth and pull the trigger. At the memory, George shuddered. “Do you remember Summersby?”
    Revelstoke paused, glass halfway to his lips. “I heard. Damned tragedy, that.”
    “Do you know why he did it?” When Revelstoke shook his head, George went on. “Creditors hounding him. He got in too deep and couldn’t pay.”
    “And him with a wife and young child.” Revelstoke shook his head once more, this time in censure. “This is the sort of thing I mean. You get in too far—”
    “The debts aren’t mine,” George cut in. “They’re Summersby’s. I mean to pay every last one. No reason his family should suffer. They’ve been through enough.”
    Revelstoke set his glass aside with a clunk and clapped George on the shoulder.