“Oh no, no.” She paused to cup a hand to his cheek. “We’re always so grateful to have you home. But I was going to write to you—Oliver arrived home last night.”
Henry barely managed to suppress a groan. “He did? Before the end of term?”
“I believe he’s facing a suspension. And there’s some issue of outstanding debts he’s not in a position to pay. Came home to ask you and your father for help.” She clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “Of course, I don’t like the gambling, but it’s in his blood, dear. Just like his father and your grandfather. There’s nothing to be done.”
“I would beg to differ, ma’am.”
“You can’t be too hard on him,” his mother said anxiously. “Why, he’s not yet nineteen.”
“He should know better than this, when he knows full well that—” Henry broke off. “Never mind that. Where is he?”
“Still in bed, my love. You know, you have arrived really quite early. Half the household is not awake yet.”
“Once he’s washed and breakfasted, send him to the study.” Henry caught his mother’s hands between his. “And don’t worry. All will be well.”
“Has Miss Winton consented to be your wife yet?” she asked, looking up at him with a crease between her brows. “Only . . . Things do seem to be particularlydifficultof late.”
He made a mental note to visit the bank again and see if there had been any major developments. A week was perfectly long enough for his father to have lost a fortune at cards.
“All will be well,” he repeated, and left her to her frown, shutting his bedchamber door behind him and standing in the middle of the room with a pounding head. Moments later, his valet arrived with warm water for washing, and he did so mechanically.
First he would speak with his father, then with Oliver.
“Is the Earl awake yet?” he asked Bootley, his valet.
“I believe so, sir,” Bootley said doubtfully. “But he has not yet left his bed.”
“That doesn’t matter. Inform him that I will see him presently.”
Bootley’s expression cracked the tiniest of amounts, but he inclined his head and moved away again. Henry adjusted his cravat and pushed his damp hair back from his head. Just hours ago, Louisa had kissed his forehead, smoothing away the lines that formed there so often now. Just hours ago, her hands had been on his bare neck and she had whispered words there she’d hoped he wouldn’t hear.
I will miss you, and I wish I would not.
If that was the case, she ought to have married him and have done with it.
His father’s bedchamber door was closed, and Henry rapped the wood with his knuckles before entering, not so much as waiting for his father’s bid to enter. The chamber was dark, the sunlight straining through the heavy green curtains, and his father sitting up in bed and regarding him with a baleful expression.
“So,” he said with the hint of a sneer. “You have come back from the country empty-handed, I see.”
“Mother told me Oliver arrived home last night.”
“Aye, and so he did, the little wretch.” His father sounded unconcerned about the entire situation. “He’ll be wanting an advance on his allowance.”
“And I suppose you told him he could have it?”
His father scrubbed a hand down his face, and Henry noticed that the man looked just as weary and beaten down as he felt. Worse, perhaps, because the ravages of drink had left their mark. “I don’t have the patience for one of your lectures today, Henry.”
“Do we have the funds, sir?”
His bloodshot eyes narrowed. “That’s hardly your concern.”
“You say you don’t have the patience for my lectures, but I don’t have the patience for your prevarications. Do we have the funds?”
“I have already written to Norfolk.”
That was a resounding no. Of course, if they could not afford to send Oliver the money, it must be found somewhere—the boy could not default on his debts.
And yet.
