“Yes. Leave it to us.” Hector moved his cane around and placed it between his knees, resting both his palmson the handle, and leaned forward. “But we were hoping we might continue in our assistance of you until after you are settled.”
“I am,” Zane said. He hadn’t indulged in a vice in three weeks. How more settled could he get?
“But you’re not wed yet,” Sylvester argued, as if Zane didn’t know that.
His uncle was unbelievable. “Neither are you. I appreciate the two of you wanting to keep helping, but for the reasons I indicated, it’s unnecessary. Besides, I don’t know when I will wed.”
Or if he would wed.
He and Brina had seen each other several times since their visit to the abbey. She always seemed happy to him. They enjoyed each other, but he still wasn’t certain he could trust Brina to fulfill her part of their agreement, even though he’d followed to the letter the rules she laid down—well, except for a swear or two. And then there was that troubling mistake he’d made in her dining room when he’d mentioned making a bet with her. That caused him some worry. She could choose to hold that against him. He had actually said the words to her, innocent though they were.
“But you have Mrs. Feld’s assurance she will wed you after the last ball,” Uncle Hector said. “Unless you have done something to keep her from accepting your proposal? Something we don’t know about?”
“No,” he said firmly. And he didn’t intend to. “I have kept my word to her. I’ll propose to her per our agreement. That is all I have to say about it. You have taught me well, Uncles. It’s time I take over on my own going forward.”
Zane saw Fulton step into the doorway. “Yes, Fulton.”
“Mr. Robins is here to see you, my lord. He says it’s about your previous discussion with him.”
“Show him to the drawing room and tell him I’ll be right there.” Zane rose. “Uncles, I have more things to take care of. I’ll see you back here tomorrownightfor dinner.”
“Yes,” Hector said, relying on his cane to help him rise. “And with Parliament ending its session a week early, the last ball of the Season was moved up to the night after.”
“What?” Zane froze. “I thought it was still a week away.”
“It was until late yesterday. The committee moved it up. You know how it is, once Parliament’s finished everyone’s ready to escape Town and head to their summer homes and begin their house parties.”
That didn’t give Zane much time. He needed the extra days to win Brina’s love.
Love?
That was such a big little word!
But yes, he not only wanted to win her hand, he wanted her love. She was loyal and tenderhearted. There was no doubt she loved her family, her friends, the sisters, and the girls at the school. He’d wanted her to love him too. He didn’t want her holding back any part of herself from him. She was attracted to him. She took pleasure in the way he made her feel. What he didn’t know was why she still continued to proclaim she wanted to be a widow.
That remained a mystery and kept her from being ready to commit to him. If she had loved her husband so much that she’d pined after him for years, why wouldn’t she want to find that kind of love and happiness again?
He looked at his uncles. “I don’t intend to miss the ball. I’ll let Fulton get your coats and see you out.”
Zane strode into the drawing room and joined Harry, who stood near the far wall looking up at a large tapestry depicting a battle scene. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting, Harry.”
Harry looked at Zane; a quizzical expression narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. “So, when you became the earl, this house and everything in it became yours? Is that right?”
Nodding, Zane stopped beside him. “It all becomes part of the entailed property of whoever is the earl. It can’t be sold. It can only be passed down to the next man to inherit the title.”
Harry chuckled. “That’s a good way to keep it all in the family. Just declare it can’t be sold.”
“There are a lot of rules to follow. Most of them go back hundreds of years. I hope you have some news.”
“Some,” he said. “Not as much as I’d like. I don’t know if it will help you much.”
Zane heard his uncles coming down the corridor. He pointed to chairs by the far window. “Let’s sit over there. Can I get you something to drink? A port or brandy?”
“No,” he said, settling himself into one of the wide-striped blue-and-beige-covered chairs. “I’ve asked around on Remick. He’s from America and it appears he’s been in London about three months. He purports to have various business ventures there—but no one seems to know exactly what they are. But, he always has plenty of money to play, so no one really cares.”
“Understandable. As long as he pays he plays.”
“The odd thing about what I’ve heard is that he does most of his playing at the smaller gambling houses—Hillspot, York and Petly’s, Buck and Doe’s. Places like that. His bets are in line with most everyone’s there, and he seldom loses. He goes to gaming houses such as the Brass Bull, and when he’s there, his bets are large, and he usually wins there too.”
