him to stay in the chair.
He sat back down. ‘Do not trouble yourselves about me.’
‘But we do,’ whispered Annalise. ‘I mean, we must trouble ourselves.’
Brenner took on a tone of reasonableness. ‘We understood your need to get away, to travel. It was good for you to see something of the world, but now—’
‘Now you are just drinking and gaming,’ Justine broke in. ‘You avoid the family. You avoid healthy pursuits.’
How easily they believed the worst of him. And how readily they assumed it was their job to fix him.
‘You cannot know my pursuits.’ He gritted his teeth.
‘Oh, yes, we can.’ Nicholas levelled his gaze at him. ‘We have ways of finding out everything.’
Not everything, Leo thought. They obviously knew nothing about his investments. He’d wager a pony that they had never heard of what he and Walker had been through. And they’d never known the real reason he had fled England, why he still had no use for London society.
One after the other they begged him to change his life, to abandon his pursuit of pleasure. They implored him to care about something again, to invest his hopes and dreams in something.
He ought to tell them, but the shipment of goods he was expecting was not precisely done to the letter of the law. Not that it would hurt anyone.
‘The thing is …’ Nicholas glanced towards Brenner, who nodded approval. ‘We have a surprise for you.’
Stephen moved to the edge of his seat. ‘We’ve rebuilt the stable at Welbourne Manor! And the outbuildings. Bigger and better than before. It is all ready for you. Complete with a fine breeding pair from my stables, already in residence at the Manor. Say the word—today, if you like—and I’ll take you to Tattersall’s to buy more horses. If you need money—’
Leo felt the blood rush to his face. ‘No.’
Charlotte piped up. ‘Nothing has changed at Welbourne Manor. Even the servants are the same. Halton, Signore Napoli, Thomas—’
‘It is waiting for you,’ Justine added. ‘What do you say, Leo?’
Leo regarded each of them in turn. ‘I sold Welbourne Manor to all of you. It is not mine any more. I no longer wish to breed horses. And I am not staying.’
‘Leo—’ Brenner began.
‘No.’ He spoke firmly. ‘I do not need help. And I especially do not need for you to tell me what to do.’
‘We are not …’ Brenner protested.
It was no use to explain to them. He did not need them to help him. He did not need anyone. He’d proven it to himself. He had left the country after losing everything, and, almost out of nothing, built a solid fortune. Without a good name. Without top-lofty connections. What’s more, he no longer sought the good opinion of the ton. He’d discovered self-reliance was more valuable than what society thought of him.
‘I refuse to discuss this further.’ Leo kept his voice firm. ‘If you continue, I will walk out the door.’ He softened. ‘Tell me about yourselves. How are you faring? How many nieces and nephews do I have? I confess to have lost count.’
He only half listened as they proudly filled him in on their children, their lives. When they spoke, their faces glowed with contentment and deep satisfaction. They were happy and that gladdened him.
But their visit brought back memories. Of his dreams for Welbourne Manor, and a similar happiness that had almost been within his reach.
Late that night Leo again sat at a card table at a Mayfair gaming hell. Tucked among discreet buildings off St James’s Street, the place buzzed with men’s voices and women’s laughter. Smoke from cheroots filled the air. Disquieting. Smoke always disquieted him.
Leo held excellent cards. Perhaps a run of luck would settle the restlessness that had plagued him ever since his siblings’ visits.
‘Did you hear about Kellford?’ the man on his right at the whist table asked as he rearranged his cards.
Leo lifted his eyes from his own hand without any great interest in Baron Kellford. He’d known Kellford in Vienna. ‘Your turn, sir.’
But the man clearly would not throw down his card before disgorging his precious on dit. Did he have a trump card or not?
Leo’s opponent rearranged his hand. Again. ‘The news is quite amusing.’ Pressing his cards against his chest, the fellow looked from Leo to the other two men at the table. ‘Kellford is soon to be flush in the pocket.’ He leaned back, waiting for one of them to ask for more.
Leo’s whist partner took the bait. ‘Did he engage some unbreeched pup in a game of piquet?’
That would be like Kellford. Take advantage of some green lad in London for the first time.
‘Oh, he did not win a hand at cards, but he will win a hand.’ The man chuckled at his clever wordplay and finally threw down a card of the leading suit.
Leo trumped it.
Seemingly unconcerned with the loss, the man grinned. ‘Kellford is betrothed. He’s marrying an heiress.’
Poor woman. Leo collected the markers he’d won.
His partner shuffled for the next deal. ‘I’m the one who needs an heiress. Who did Kellford find? Some squint-eyed daughter of a wealthy cit?’
‘Not at all,’ the man said. ‘He’s marrying Miss Covendale.’
Leo froze.
No. Mariel married Ashworth. Hadn’t she? Leo spent two years on the Continent, travelling as far as he could to keep from hearing news of her marriage to Ashworth. On his first day in London, who did he glimpse on Oxford Street? Ashworth. He’d half expected to see Mariel at the man’s side. What had happened?
More to the point, why marry Kellford?
The noise and smoke-filled rowdiness of the gaming hell receded, and in his mind’s eye Leo saw Kellford, whip in hand, about to strike a cowering tavern maid from the hotel where they both happened to be staying. Leo had pulled the whip from the baron’s hand and forced Kellford out of the hotel.
‘Come now. I hired her!’ Kellford had protested. ‘I would have paid her well.’
Leo closed his eyes and saw Mariel’s face instead of that nameless girl.
‘Mariel Covendale?’ Leo’s partner leaned back. ‘Men have been trying to win her fortune for years. How the devil did Kellford manage such a coup?’
How indeed.
‘I do not know.’ The gossipmonger shook his head. ‘But the first banns have been read. I wager before the knot is tied, I’ll learn how he did it.’
The fourth man at the table piped up. ‘I wager
