gestured to Westleigh and Hugh to explain.
Hugh glared at his father. ‘You explain it to her, Father.’
Lord Westleigh, still standing, wrung his hands.
‘Well.’ He looked at his wife. ‘Your sons made the plan. Just because finances have become a little strained these days—’
‘A little strained!’ Hugh broke in. ‘It is more serious than that.’ He turned to his mother. ‘We are a hair’s breadth from complete ruin. We owe everybody and Father has not kept up with payments to the bank, for money he borrowed to cover his gambling debts.’
Her gaze flew to her husband, who did not deny this. ‘What has this to do with Mr Rhysdale?’
Hugh answered her. ‘Ned and I went to him with a proposition.’ He explained the scheme to run a gaming house. ‘But Father will not do what he gave his word he would do.’
‘What is that?’ Lady Westleigh asked.
Her husband made a sound of disgust.
Rhys spoke up. ‘My lady, I fear what I’ve asked may cause you some distress. For that, I am sorry.’ He riveted his gaze on his father and spoke only to him. ‘I once came to you with one request—to support me after my mother died until I had a means of supporting myself. You refused. Now I have no need of your money, so I ask more.’ He turned back to Lady Westleigh. ‘Your husband must acknowledge me publicly as his natural son. It must seem to society that I am welcomed into the family. I do not ask for a true welcome,’ he assured her. ‘This is more a matter of recompense. But I insist upon a plan for this to be done and done soon. If it is not accomplished in a reasonable length of time, I will not release any of the money from the gaming hell to your sons.’
Hugh swung around to his mother. ‘We need the money, Mother. We need it now. Matters are desperate.’ His eyes shot daggers at his father. ‘If you had behaved with any decency, with any thought to our mother and sister, you would have done the right thing in the first place and you certainly would not have gambled and caroused until money for their food and clothing would be in jeopardy!’
Lady Westleigh’s eyes grew huge. ‘Is it as bad as that?’
‘It is desperate, Mother. Desperate.’ Hugh dropped into a chair.
The lady closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples as she took in all this information. Finally she spoke. ‘We shall give a ball and introduce you, Mr Rhysdale. I’ll arrange the date with you, but it might take a few weeks. The social calendar is full. You will, I presume, wish to have good attendance.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I will give you my word that it will happen. Will that be enough to release some of the money?’
Rhys stood. ‘Your word will be enough, my lady. I will release the money to Ned today. Have him call upon me this afternoon.’ He turned to Lord Westleigh. ‘If you prevent this ball in any way, no further profits will be forthcoming.’
‘I have no other choice, do I?’ Westleigh said.
‘As my mother had no choice when you forced her into your bed. As I had no choice but to survive on my own when I was fourteen.’ He bowed to Lady Westleigh. ‘I will act in a manner that will not embarrass you, my lady. It will suffice that the truth become known.’
She nodded.
‘Hugh.’ He nodded to his half-brother. ‘I’ll bid you all good day.’
As he left the house and walked out to the street, he lacked the feeling of triumph that he’d expected. Instead he thought of Lady Westleigh. Her pained expression. Her evident distress.
He’d succeeded in putting his father in a helpless position, but in so doing he’d hurt someone even more helpless. Lady Westleigh.
Another casualty of his father’s selfish behaviour.
But it was done.
Rhys would make arrangements with his bank and get the money to Ned this day.
Sun peeked through the buildings and Rhys was reminded of his youth in the village. It had not all been unhappy. He remembered running over hills, fishing in the river, climbing the highest tree he could find to look down on a world where he ordinarily felt quite small. The seeds of his ambition were sowed in that childhood—to succeed. To build something lasting.
The world was changing. The gaming hell belonged to a past where a few had so much money they could throw it away on dice and cards. The future belonged to men with brains and courage, no matter who parented them. Rhys had brains and courage and, with the help of the gaming hell, he’d soon have enough capital to build anything he liked.
His thoughts turned to Celia Allen as the sun warmed the air and lit the buildings in a golden light. Which world did she belong to? He no longer knew. He only knew that in the gaming hell, they were one of a kind.
Would she share his bed this night?
Would she approve of his actions this day?
Not that he would ever tell her, but, somehow his visit to the Westleighs, the family to which he would never truly belong, had left him feeling abandoned.
He wanted the comfort of her arms, her kiss.
He looked up to cross the street and saw Ned approaching from the other side. He stopped and waited. He might as well inform Ned about the afternoon’s events.
Ned walked right past him, not pointedly cutting him, as was typical of him, but apparently utterly oblivious.
Rhys called after him, ‘Ned!’
Ned stopped then and shook his head as if in a daze. He finally turned around. ‘Oh, Rhys. I did not see you there.’
He must be dazed. He called him Rhys, not Rhysdale.
He peered at Ned. ‘Are you unwell?’
Ned laughed. ‘Not at all. Merely thinking.’
The man looked like a sapskull. ‘What is so engrossing?’
Ned grinned. ‘Nothing.’
Oh. A woman.
A man only acted in such a manner when he was a besotted fool. ‘May I pull your head from the clouds?’
Ned sobered. ‘What is it?’
‘I’ve come from your father.’ Their father, he meant. ‘I have forced the issue with him and I am satisfied that my introduction to society will happen soon. I am prepared to transfer the money back to you. Your original investment and some modest profits.’
Ned brightened. ‘My father came through? I feared he would not.’ He grasped Rhys’s arm. ‘This means … This means … We may retrench. We may actually pull out of this!’
Rhys recoiled from this unexpected camaraderie. ‘Do not be so hasty. It is not all song and celebration. I am afraid this matter has caused your mother some distress. For that, I am regretful.’
‘My
