He’d been duty bound to serve the church. And he’d done so willingly. He’d found peace there.
Acceptance.
Purpose.
And now all of that had been flipped upside down.
Mr. Evans opened the door before Justin could even knock.
“My lord.” The longtime retainer bowed. Even this irritated Justin today. The butler had never bowed to him before. He’d always simply been plain old Mr. White. Or Vicar White.
Justin tugged at his cravat, feeling the absence of his collar acutely. “Just stopping for a moment. I’m borrowing one of the vehicles from the mews.”
Mr. Evan’s eyebrows rose. “You did not wish to see His Grace?”
Dev was here?
“As a matter of fact, I would. Is he available?” He and Sophia must have only recently arrived. That meant Lord Blakely and Miss Goodnight would have returned to Eden’s Court, or sent word.
“Right this way.” Mr. Evans led him upstairs and then, with more pomp and circumstance than ever before, opened the door to the study wide.
Dev, wearing traveling clothes, was propped against the sturdy desk perusing one of the letters in the mountain of mail that awaited him.
He glanced up from his reading. “How fares your future father-in-law?” Never a man to beat around the bush, he was even less so now that he’d become Prescott.
Justin hardly knew where to begin.
He did not want charity from the Prescott coffers.
“He didn’t kick me off the property,” he hedged. “Nor did he invite me to supper.” None of which mattered, in fact. “I stopped over at Carlisle House.”
Dev paused and then nodded slowly. “I see.”
But did he?
“I’m broke. Not only broke but in debt up to my eyeballs.”
Dev winced. “I’d heard rumors about the Carlisle coffers.”
“I suspected myself. Just didn’t realize it was this bad.” Justin attempted to stifle the frustration eating away at his heart. “Why now? Damn and blast, but why now?”
Another sympathetic look from his cousin. “Sophia would kill me if she knew I even suggested such a thing, but has your betrothal to Miss Mossant been made official? I’ve yet to read any announcement, and I’m quite certain there is more than one heiress out there who would be more than happy to marry you.”
“The betrothal is set.” Justin had expected to receive this course of advice, just not from Dev. “I wanted to ask you about investments. I have a small savings. Nearly a thousand pounds. I need to turn it into twenty.”
“I knew you were a man of faith, but I didn’t realize you actually believed in miracles.” Dev laughed, angering him further.
“I’m quite serious, Dev.” Justin ran one hand through his hair and paced across the floor to the window. “I need to bolster my new damned estate. And I need funds to support a wife.”
“You know you needn’t come up with this yourself. I—”
Justin held up one hand, effectively cutting off the offer Dev was about to make. “I’ve already accepted far too much generosity from your family.” Even his mother yet depended on the Prescott coffers.
Justin had his own responsibilities now. He needed to devise his own means.
“Well,” Dev hedged. “There’s always—”
“The wager.”
