Wicked Games (The Sun Never Sets Book 3) Read Free

issue wasn’t the money. He could easily cover the amount. But a gambling debt of that sum, coupled with the copious amounts of whisky Richard was drinking and the excitement in his eyes when he’d discussed the turning of the cards, indicated a problem of a more serious nature. While Jonathon didn’t particularly like his cousin, neither did he wish to see the man continue on a path that could only lead to ruin.
    “I would think the best course would be to take the matter to your father.”
    “My father.” Richard gave a snort of disgust. “Bring the debt to him. I’m sure you can imagine how well I would fare on that score.”
    “That’s not my place to speculate.”
    “Of course,” he sneered. “All very well for you to say. Nobody’s tying up your purse strings. But you didn’t earn it, did you? Just look at you. A viscount. Lord of the bloody realm. The title and the funds just handed to you by birthright. If my father had been the older brother it would all be—”
    He stopped abruptly. Silence stretched over the table.
    Jonathon regarded him coolly. “Yes? Do go on.”
    Richard’s anger abruptly evaporated. His gaze darted around the room. He leaned across the table, saying in a voice edged with desperation, “Listen. Sweet Harry is expecting me tonight. He isn’t the sort of man one can put off. Trust me on that. There will be repercussions, horrible repercussions, if I don’t deliver the money.”
    Oh, Christ . If nothing else, Richard had certainly developed a flair for the dramatic. Still, Jonathon couldn’t help but feel sympathy for his plight. He’d been young, brash, and stupid once, too. Hopefully not that stupid. But he’d certainly made his share of mistakes. Presumably, Richard’s father had as well.
    “How’s this,” Jonathon heard himself say. “Fifty pounds. You can visit this Sweet Henry person—”
    “Harry. Sweet Harry.”
    “—and make a payment, as it were. He’ll see that you’re good for the money, and that will buy you some time until you can speak to your father.”
    Richard’s eyes lit up. “That’s brilliant!” he gushed.
    Jonathon he removed a calling card from his pocket and scribbled a promissory note for the sum of fifty pounds. Richard eagerly reached for it, but Jonathon held it just out of reach. “On one condition,” he said.
    “I’ll pay you back, I promise.”
    “That’s not my condition.” He fixed the younger man with a stern glare. “You will speak to your father the moment you return to London. Full confession. The whole sordid mess. I’ll have your word on it as a gentleman.”
    Richard looked pained, but solemn. “Very well. You have my word.” He tucked the note into his breast pocket, then leapt up, returning moments later with two shot glasses brimming with amber liquid. He passed one glass to Jonathon, raising his own in a toast. “To family,” he said. “Bottoms up!”
    Jonathon accepted the glass and reluctantly tossed it back. God awful Bitter as hell. The drink burned his throat as it went down.
    Richard watched him, his eyes once again overly bright, filled with agitated excitement. “Excellent. This’ll be the last time I ever come to you for money, Brooksbank, I can promise you that.” Turning, he grabbed his hat and coat and pushed his way through the crowd, disappearing through a back room.
    Jonathon watched him go, unable to quell a sudden surge of misgivings. Richard was only a few years younger, but ridiculously green. If something happened to him… Perhaps he should have accompanied him and insisted on seeing this Sweet Harry person.
    “All alone now, are ye, luv?” the serving woman cooed, interrupting his thoughts. “Want a little company? Someone to keep you warm on this cold night?” She leaned low, her full breasts nearly spilling out of her gown.
    “Another time, perhaps.” 
    He paid for their drinks and stood. As he did, the crowded room seemed to tilt. His stomach clenched and his vision