“Rome has twisted your sense of honor if you think calling on your friends in time of trouble is dishonorable,” Richard said. “In that case, half the aristocracy of England has no honor.” His cold voice had pounded Jamie relentlessly for what felt like an hour.
“My father used his friends and anyone else he could suck dry,” Jamie spat.
“Your father was a worthless reprobate, and we all know it,” Andrew put in.
Richard stood against the window in Nora’s tiny office, graceful but haughtily erect, and looked down his well-bred nose to where Jamie sat. Andrew eyed him sympathetically from across Nora’s desk.
“Why would I deny it?” Jamie asked.
“You are not your father!” Richard burst out with uncharacteristic force. “Damn it, Jamie, is that what you’re afraid of, call on your friends in time of trouble and you become him?”
The guttural voice of that crude old man echoed in Jamie’s head.
Ask Glenaire for the blunt, boy. He’s well to pass. Sent you to Harrow so’s you could make them friends of yours, didn’t I? Use ‘em boy. Use ‘em.
Too often, he had done exactly that.
“Honor permits a major to live off his friends, but not a baron?” Richard demanded when Jamie didn’t answer.
“I developed backbone eventually,” Jamie mumbled. They had been through the entire discussion twice before. He wanted it over. Nora’s face, confused and alarmed, haunted him. He needed to explain; he had to make it right.
“You can’t order everyone’s life, Richard,” he insisted. “There are some things even you can’t make right. A man can’t damn well ask his friends to rescue an estate gone barren, coffers gone bankrupt, and?—”
“And your sister?” Richard suggested.
Jamie leapt to his feet and glared, but remorse filled him. He hadn’t been able to protect the women entrusted to him. He dropped back to his seat and leaned his elbows on the desk. It always came back to that. He had abandoned his mother and his sister. And soon, he would fail Nora.
“You’re right,” he said at last, his words muffled by his sleeve.
“What? Do I sense agreement?” Richard raised an eyebrow.
“You’re right, blast it, Richard.” Jamie lifted his head. “For that I should have asked for help. Your mother would have sponsored Arianne if you had asked her, and you would have if you knew we needed help.”
“My sister,” Richard corrected.
“I beg your pardon?” Jamie said.
“My sister sponsored her.”
Jamie looked at Andrew. Richard’s sister was Andrew’s wife.
“You gave my sister a season?” The thought stunned Jamie. Richard would have borne an enormous expense.
“It is a trivial matter to me but of some great importance to your sister. You will understand if we had no time to ask your permission.”
Jamie didn’t doubt that. “She is well?”
“Very well. She’s married,” Andrew told him.
Jamie stared at his hands.
Richard continued without pity. “She wanted to wait until wefound you. When our first efforts were not successful, your mother persuaded her to go on. Your mother, you will appreciate, felt anxious that the marriage proceed.”
“Who is he?”
“Baronet. Small but prosperous estate in Kent. Well-off enough to manage a wife. I saw to the marriage settlement. We had no time to wait.” Jamie felt Richard’s blue eyes bore into him.
“No time to find me. Yes, I believe you’ve made that point. I presume I am even deeper in your debt,” Jamie said.
