Once Upon A Wedding Night Read Free Page B

from clenching his teeth.
    Grimley settled his somber, brown beaver hat on his head. "Just so. I'll be in contact. Much depends upon you. Aside from the property, you bear responsibility for countless lives."
    At his lifted eyebrow, Grimley explained. "Tenants, servants. And of course there are Lady Brookshire and her relations. They still reside at Oak Run."
    "Lady Brookshire?"
    "Your brother's widow," Grimley replied as if he should have known.
    Had the man not yet figured out that he did not keep abreast of family matters? That Grimley in fact addressed the blackest sheep ever expelled from a family bosom?
    "I'll show myself out. Good day to you, gentlemen."
    Mac called out to the solicitor's retreating back, "Have a drink on your way out. Just tell Fred at the bar it's on the house."
    Grimley's back stiffened before exiting, indicating the unlikelihood of him accepting that offer.
    "Starchy fellow," Mac muttered.
    Nick replied with an indifferent shrug, willing his jaw to unclench.
    Mac kicked his feet up on the desk and wasted no time getting to the point. "Nicholas Caulfield, the Earl of Brookshire. Nice ring to it, eh? You inheriting it all—that's a good comeuppance for the old earl. Fancy that! I've partnered up with a nob. Wait till everyone hears. Suppose this means you'll be changing your ways? No more hanging about here. Can't be seen with riffraff like me."
    Leaning back in his leather chair, Nick laced his hands over his flat stomach and frowned. "I'm the same man. I don't intend to change. Besides, I need to be here to keep an eye on business." He raised a dark brow sardonically. "You don't expect me to leave it all to your care, do you? Who would do the books? You can't add two and two. We'd be back on the streets in a month's time."
    Mac tossed a hand over his heart in mock pain. "You wound me, boy. Didn't I find
you
in the streets and get you your start?"
    Nick raised his snifter of brandy to his partner in salute. "I'll give you that, but I was the talent, remember? You couldn't draw a winning hand to save your life." He grinned. "Still can't."
    "I haven't lost it," Mac defended, tapping his temple. "I just took enough blunt off young Lord Derring to buy that racer I've had my eye on."
    Nick rolled his eyes. "Lord Derring. That pasty-faced nob does not qualify as talent. He's so in debt I could take the clothes off his back any day I choose."
    Mac's eyes widened. "I had no idea he was that far gone. Why've you let him carry on, then? This is a business, Nick, not a charity."
    "I don't want the reputation that will go along with devastating a duke and his family. Bad business, that. Never fear, I shall collect the young lord's debt in due time."
    Mac gave a little shake of his head. "Should have known there was a business angle to it. There ain't a charitable bone in your body."
    "Quite so," Nick agreed, neglecting to mention his
transaction
with old Basslye's bride just moments ago. Mac didn't need to know everything.
    They sank into silence. He knew Mac was giving him time to think, to mull things over in his mind until he was ready to discuss the subject hanging so heavily in the air. It didn't take long.
    "How can I be a part of that world again?" Nick spread his hands out wide in front of him. "One day I'm riding a pony between my Latin and fencing lessons and the next I'm…" He let his words hang in the air for a long moment as the past reared its ugly head. The old, sour taste he so loathed filled his mouth and throat. He wanted nothing from the man that had destroyed his mother or from the world that had turned a blind eye.
    He took a long swig of brandy, thinking he might have to get foxed. Voices, laughter, and the faint whirring sound of a roulette wheel floated from below. Nick knew he should make an appearance. Bess was acting hostess tonight and would pout if he didn't come down, but he wasn't in the mood to socialize. The dark shadows of his past had been roused, spoiling his humor. "I don't