“I’ll win it back.” Robert started pacing again. “No man can be that lucky every night. I’ll challenge him to another game.”
“You’ll do no such thing.” John turned his chair to stare out the window. He could fix this. He had vowed the House of Summerset would never be impoverished again, and he would stand by that oath.
A watery reflection stared back at him in the glass. Instead of a man, a small boy. Instead of a silk jacket, a torn and dirty rag clothed the image.
His hand trembled, and he balled it into a fist. “Who holds the deed?”
“Sudworth. Harlow Sudworth.”
John tried to picture the man. They had only met once or twice, but his story was known well in London. Born to a family of little means, Sudworth had sailed for India as a young man. He’d returned wealthy. Wealthy enough that he was allowed entrée into the higher echelons of a society that respected birth above all else.
And now he held everything that John had worked for his entire life.
“I can beat him.” Robert gripped the back of a chair and leaned forwards. “I just need one more game.”
John steepled his fingers and blew out a breath. “You’re a fool, just like father.” He ignored the way his brother blanched. He couldn’t understand it. They had seen the horrors of unchecked gambling, watched as their father bankrupted their estate. How could his brother have fallen into the same trap?
His mind whirled. He wouldn’t accept the loss. He had spent his life figuring his way out of sticky situations. All he needed was a plan.
“Go home,” he told Robert. “Until I recover your deed, I don’t want to see your face.” John stood and went to the brass urn in the corner of the room. He plucked an ebony walking stick from the pile and buffed the round nob against his sleeve. And without sparing another glance at his brother, he strode from the room and out of his townhouse.
His regular driver took him to Sudworth’s home. When John gave the butler his card, it was only a moment before he was shown into the man’s study.
“Lord Summerset.” The smile Sudworth gave him was pleasant, but he remained seated behind his desk, and John recognized the insult. “What a surprise this visit is. How might I be of service?”
Without waiting for an invitation, John took the seat across from the desk. He draped his left leg over the armrest and lounged back. “Let’s not play games, Sudworth. My visit can hardly be a surprise. You know you have something of mine.”
Sudworth pulled a thick cigar from a wooden box on his desk. He drew the cylinder under his nose, inhaling deeply. “Do I? I know I recently acquired a lovely little estate in Shropshire, but I do believe that belonged to your brother.” He pulled a candle from the corner of his desk and lit the cigar, his cheeks hollowing. “You’re not going to try to claim it was part of your entail, are you?”
Wouldn’t that have been lovely. How much more profitable would his metallurgy business be if he’d had control over all the resources? All the times he’d overpaid his brother for the raw ore out of a sense of fraternal duty had been poorly compensated.
“I make no such claims,” John said. “I am here to discuss terms. I’d like to purchase the property.”
A cat, pure white excepting one golden patch over its eye, meowed loudly from the door and trotted into the room, heading for the desk. It jumped onto Sudworth’s lap and butted its head into his hand.
Sudworth scratched the animal’s chin. “I’m certain you would. The mining operation on the property is quite valuable.”
“Only to me.” John pointed his toe, letting the emeralds on his boot catch the light. “I am the only person in England who uses chromite because I hold letters patent on my process of steel manufacture. The mine is useless to you.”
The cat batted at the cigar, and Sudworth teased the animal with it, bringing it into reach then pulling it away from its paw. “You are an interesting man, Summerset. I’ve heard much about you these past months.”
John’s foot paused a moment before continuing its swing. “I personally leave theon ditto women, but to each his own.” He curled his lip as the cat stretched out on Sudworth’s abdomen, and the man cooed softly to it. “I didn’t take you for an animal lover.”
“It takes a cold man not to appreciate the intelligence of cats.” Sudworth kicked his legs up on his desk, making a flatter bed for the animal. “Delilah here has had me wrapped around her paw since I found her hunting mice in a back alley.” He looked up. “You wouldn’t be in the market for a kitten? I have eight I’m trying to find homes for. Good homes, mind you. You don’t have a dog, do you?”
John blinked. He looked over his shoulder. No one stood there laughing at the joke. He swung back around. Sudworth was serious.
“No dog, and I don’t want a cat.” Well, not another one.
Sudworth shrugged. “Your loss.” He smirked. “That seems to be the theme of the day. How badly do you want the deed back?”
“I’ll give you twenty thousand pounds.” It was worth ten times that, but he knew to start low when bidding.
Sudworth chuckled. “That’s sweet.” There was a scratch at the door, and Sudworth bellowed, “Come.”
A girl in a starched and pressed maid’s uniform crept in, holding a tray of tea. “Cook said you’d want this, sir.”
He nodded to his desk, and the girl skittered forwards, depositing her burden.
