Page 62 of Earl, Enemy, Husband?

He bristled. He did not approve of any man hurting a woman. He’d seen too much of that sort of thing with his father. ‘How much do you owe?’

Her eyes glistened with tears, ‘It is vast. Nigh-on five hundred.’

Gobsmacked, he stared at her. ‘Five hundred pounds?’

She winced, her shoulders coming up to her ears. ‘Guineas.’

It was an enormous sum, unthinkable. Not that he couldn’t afford it. It certainly wouldn’t make a dint in his fortune.

‘How?’

‘Gambling, at tables. The men I owe said they would harm my son if I do not pay by the end of the month. I don’t know what to do.’

Oh, he did not like the sound of this at all. ‘Who said? To whom do you owe this money?’

‘Originally to a gambling hell, but they sold the debt to another man, a criminal I think, now he is demanding payment.’

‘A gambling hell?’

Shame tinged her cheeks red. ‘I got carried away.’

‘And George knows about this?’

She nodded.

George had always liked a bit of a gamble. He’d always hoped to make his fortune and get away from his dull position at the bank. ‘Did he put you in the way of it?’ He was going to give George a good talking to.

‘Oh, no. It was another. George was shocked when he found out, but he is unable help me. He can barely pay his own expenses. And, when he asked his father for a loan, he refused. You are my last hope.’

Once upon a time, he would have been delighted to be her last hope on any score. Now he had to think this through. Five hundred pounds… He shook his head.

She clutched his arm. ‘Please, Gray.’ She sank down on her knees, weeping. ‘Please. I-I’ll do anything you want.’

Nausea rose up in his throat at the implication of her words. ‘I will help you.’ He took her hand and raised her to her feet. ‘Give me a few days to get the money. I assume they want it in cash?’

She nodded weakly. A sound had her whipping her head round. ‘I have to go. Before someone sees me.’ She grabbed his hand and kissed it. ‘Thank you.’

She dashed off.

His head full of conflicting thoughts, Graydon left the stables and went back out onto the street.

God; what was he going to do about Eloise? If he gave her the money, who was to say she wouldn’t gamble it all away and be worse off than before?

He had until the end of the month, at least a couple of weeks. He needed to think about the best way to handle this.

‘These are the last of them, my lady, according to the delivery man,’ Cole said, ushering a footman with a pile of boxes into Florence’s private drawing room—the delivery from the dressmaker.

‘Right on time, too. Since I have already worn everything I own and I have another event to attend this afternoon.’ Lady Standish’s at-home. She wasn’t looking forwarded to it at all. There was something about that woman—and it wasn’t because Graydon paid her so much attention. Not at all.

It was how false her friendliness seemed. And the way she acted as if everyone should bow down before her beauty.

Florence gritted her teeth. She was not jealous of Graydon’s fawning over the woman. They were old friends, that was all. He had said so.

Florence stared at the pile of boxes as Cole opened the first one and rummaged through the tissue paper. She could not believe the number of drums, balls, routs and at-homes she would be attending. When she had suggested to Graydon that they decline some of them, he had given her one of those chilly looks of his. The last thing they wanted to do, he had said, was insult anyone, not if they wanted her sisters to have the best possible come-out.

She pressed her lips together. He had seemed out of sorts, these last few days. She had wanted to ask him what was wrong, but hadn’t dared.

‘Oh my lady, this is lovely,’ Cole said, holding up an afternoon gown of primrose silk.