Harewood pulled at his sleeve, a sure sign he was about to hold back. “From what I’ve learned—”
“Bloody hell, just tell me the truth. I can’t address the issue when you withhold information.”
Harewood’s eyes rounded, but he nodded. “Very well. It appears this frigid weather we’ve experienced has been happening all over Europe and even in America. What goods are being made or grown are staying in their countries of origin. Trade has ground to a halt.”
His mind raced. If the cold weather had affected crops all over Europe and America, as well as at home, there could well be a worldwide famine. It wasn’t just himself whose finances hung in the balance, but everyone’s. His were just in an unfortunate state.
Throwing back the rest of the Scotch, he pushed away from his desk and walked over to the sideboard. Splashing another dram of Scotch into his glass, he swallowed that too. The heat in his belly was nothing like the need to do something immediately.
“I wouldn’t get into your cups just yet. There is more.”
He stilled. “More?” He left his glass on the sideboard and walked back behind his desk. Crossing his arms over his chest, he studied Harewood. Something was definitely bothering the man. “What is it?”
“Something I did not foresee.”
He smirked. Anything Harewood could not foresee would disturb him greatly. “And what would that be?”
The man’s brows lowered, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a piece of paper. “This.”
Even from where he stood, he could tell it was a bill. But everyone had been paid. He’d made sure of that before he’d made any investments. The cheese he’d had for luncheon seemed to suddenly weigh two stone. “And what is that?”
Harewood grimaced. “It is a bill from a local establishment you and I know well in Oxford.”
Oxford? They hadn’t been there in years. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Christopher gave it to me to give to you before he left for the village. Asked me if I could smooth over the expense for him.”
His brother? Fisting his hands, he made no move to take it. “How much?”
“Thirty-three pounds.”
“What?” He strode around his desk and grabbed the bill from Harewood. He stared in shock at the items listed. “My brother has a mistress?”
“It appears so.”
“But he’s only—”
“The same age we were when we began incurring these types of expenses.” Harewood raised a brow as if he should have expected this.
“Then how come you didn’t foresee this?” He waved the paper. “No, never mind.” It wasn’t Harewood’s fault. He dropped the bill on his desk and moved to the window to stare at the light blanket of snow frozen over the fields before Lyonsmere.
“You need to tell him.”
He stiffened. “Tell him what? That our father squandered money on women, paintings, horses, and whatever caught his fancy while working his tenants into an early grave only to die in debt?”
The leather of the wingback chair creaked as Harewood must have risen, his footsteps coming closer. The hand that was settled on his shoulder was that of a very good friend, so he didn’t shrug it off, but he wanted to.
“Perhaps telling him everything wouldn’t be appropriate right now, but he should know that you were left with significant debts.”
He didn’t say a word. To admit to anyone besides Harewood that his father wasn’t everything he thought was like swallowing fish eggs. He couldn’t do it.
“Sommerset, you have to curb the whelp’s spending for the next year, or even with the lovely Lady Amelia’s dowry, you’ll be in this same situation.”
He knew the man was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept.
“You have fulfilled the bargain, have you not?”
He nodded.
