“Perhaps he can, but what about next time?”
“Father said not to worry about a few petty gambling debts, and that when he won again, as he certainly would, he would pay them all off himself.”
Of course he’d said that. His father was all about when he would ‘come about’ again; his life motto was that he would provide for everything when he had a win.
And sometimes he did win, but not often enough. Not nearly often enough.
“It’s not that simple,” Henry said. “This isn’t a case of a few bad losses, Oliver. If it were—do you think I’ve been so hard on you merely because I disapprove of excessive gambling?”
Oliver frowned. “Yes?”
“I’ve been so hard on you because the family suffers ruin if we do not curb our spending. Our father most of all, but what should happen to you if we lose everything, as we are liable to do?” He paused, glancing down to where his hands were curled into fists on the table. “Nathanial can help keep you in Oxford, but if you learn bad habits there, we cannot support you. And Nathanial will not, either. As things currently stand, we will barely be able to furnish you with an allowance—and only then if we sell this house.”
Oliver blanched, pushing back from his chair with unwonted vehemence. “Sell the London house? Are you out of your mind?”
“As things stand, it’s the only way I can see out for us.”
“But it’s been in the family for—well, longer than I’ve been alive.”
And a good deal longer than that. The Shrewsburys had always had a house on Grosvenor Square. Unfortunately, it was an expense they could no longer countenance.
“If our current rate of expenditure does not abate,” Henry said carefully, “then we will face losing the entire Shrewsbury estate.”
“I thought you were going to marry.”
He did his best not to flinch. “As did I, but unfortunately things did not pan out that way.”
Oliver frowned, the last natural merriment dying from his eyes as he rested his elbows on the desk. “Can we not take out a loan against the property?”
“We are already mortgaged to the hilt. There is no room for us to borrow, no funds for us to use, and the sum is far greaterthan we could ever hope to repay, even if we all began to practice economy.” Which, he knew, they would not. “If we are lucky, I will contrive for us to keep the house, but we will probably have to parcel off some of the land.”
“Then things are very much worse than Father led me to believe,” Oliver said slowly.
“Father has always been highly optimistic—at times I have thought deluded—about our situation and his ability to recoup his losses,” Henry said, “though it pains me to criticise our parents. Mother knows what he is and has made no discernible effort to curb him. She believes gaming to be in his blood, and therefore yours, too. But I have done everything in my power to ensure that is not the case.”
Oliver’s face was pale but resolute. “What can I do?”
“Return to Oxford when they next allow you in. Nathanial will provide the funds to pay your debts, and endeavour to keep out of trouble for the remainder of the term.”
“And you?”
“I?” Henry scratched at the stubble on his jaw. He had yet to sleep after a night spent wide awake and dreaming. “I will determine if we have to sell the house and make all necessary preparations to leave London.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Louisa allowed herself no time for moping. When she returned, she knew she had at best two days before Knight chased her to the ground, and by then, she needed to be prepared.
Perhaps she may not retrieve the letters and painting by force, but she could compel him to release them into her care. Then she would destroy both, and her life could continue along the path she had set out on all those years ago.
The first thing she did was summon her man of business to the house. He came with alacrity, Louisa being a valued and highly paying patron, and she sat with him in her drawing room, the curtains open to reveal the day.
Mr Upperton, a quiet gentleman of indeterminable age, sat opposite her with his hands loosely clasped in his lap and his sharp eyes on her. “If I may venture to say, ma’am, this is very early for a call.”
“Yes,” she said, not bothering to explain herself. “I require you to find someone for me.”
“Oh?”
“Arabella Knight was her name, but she married, probably five to ten years ago, and since left the country. I suspect for the East or West Indies, although I cannot be certain. Find her. There will likely be a newspaper announcement of their marriage.”
