Page 127 of The Language of Love

“Falcrest is—”

“Leased. Yes, I know.” Henry cocked his head. “Tell me about this lease.”

“But… why?”

“Because I would like to help you break it, Edmund. I would like to help you go back to your own home.”

Edmund’s eyes narrowed and the mask he’d been wearing for the last six days fell away like feathers from a molting bird. “You want to toss me out, Henry. Why not just say it?”

“I want to toss you out, Edmund.”

His cousin sat back, as if Henry had slapped him.

“The lease is a seven year one and there are still two years left. To break it would be… prohibitive,” Edmund said, his face sullen.

“I will pay you the two years and I will also compensate the lessees for their inconvenience.”

Edmund’s jaw sagged in a way that was not attractive but still managed to be very satisfying. “But—that will be several hundred pounds, perhaps as much as a thousand.”

“Yes, I daresay it will.”

“You will pay all that money just to get me out of Stoke.”

“Yes.”

Edmund gave a laugh of disbelief. “You must dislike me a great deal.”

“There is no need to go into that, Edmund.” Henry smiled. “Besides, I should think my actions speak louder than words.”

Edmund’s face reddened. “This will take some time.”

“You have until St. Oswald’s Day. That seems fitting, doesn’t it?”

Edmund ignored his question. “You don’t understand. First, I shall have to—”

“I don’t need to hear the gory details, Edmund. I just want you to make it so.”

“What if I don’t have the money to make it so, Henry?”

“You lack money?”

“You know I do! Without the money I get leasing Falcrest I have nothing.”

Henry took his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the top drawer of his desk. He pulled out a wad of paper and threw it across the desk; the chits flew like confetti. “Those are yours.”

Edmund picked up one piece that had fluttered and landed beside his expensively booted foot. He looked at it and gasped. “Where did you get this?”

“That doesn’t matter.” Henry leaned across his desk. “Here is what matters: You say you don’t have money and yet you’ve lost a fortune at the tables. I will pay these debts you’ve accumulated.”

“You w-will?” Edmund’s eyes were as round as marbles.

“Yes. Every one of them, which is no insignificant amount, is it?”

Edmund swallowed and shook his head.

“Once I’ve paid them off, that is all the money you will ever see from me. Even if I predecease you without a son and you inherit Stoke, you will not get my fortune.”

Edmund shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “This is because of that one night, isn’t? I had nothing to do with that. It was all Julia’s idea. I don’t think even Charles knew what—”