Chapter 13
Afast pounding at his door woke Henry. Why was his door always being beaten down?
Grumbling mild profanities, he pulled himself from bed, grabbed a dressing robe from the back of a chair, and opened the door.
Julia immediately pushed past him into the room.
Henry rubbed a hand across his eyes. “Good . . . morning?” How long ago had he even gone to bed? It was nearing two in the morning when he’d finally returned to Windvale after his hopeless trip to the beach.
“It is not a particularly good morning, actually,” she said, rounding on him.
He put his hands up. Julia was the better half of his remaining family—himself and her, but at that moment, he was really tired of her anger and bitterness.
Especially compounded with how sick he’d felt the last week, how he’d been received by the party during the day, and the disappointment that Gregory was not his man.
“What is wrong, Julia?” he infused his voice with sincerity, hoping to calm her as he crossed to open the drapes.
Her shoulders fell a bit, but her glare did not fade. “I’ve had a letter.”
His first thought was of Carlton, but Julia disabused him of that possibility immediately.
“From Mary.”
Her maid?
“For some reason, she has not received her latest pay. She expresses her concern. A great deal of concern since we are not expected back for several weeks.”
Henry swallowed. “Oh? That is odd.”
Her eyes narrowed even more. “Odd? Yes. But also, Henry, this is not the first time.”
“It isn’t?”
“No. The last time, I paid her from my pin money.”
If Henry had been wearing a cravat, he’d be pulling it from his neck. He grasped for a possible answer. “I will write my solicitor to send her any funds owed. And I will return to you the pin money as well.” He could afford it; it was just painful to part with any funds that could go to Hastings.
“You cannot be so scatterbrained, Henry. This is someone’s livelihood.”
“I am not scatterbrained. I simply . . . ” He searched for an excuse. Maybe he should take the one she was giving him. “You are right. I should pay closer attention to these things.”
Julia’s eyes searched his, and she pushed out a breath, tugging hard on the golden braid hanging over her shoulder. “I had hoped you would tell me the truth.”
Cold dread settled over him. “What can you mean?”
“That is not all Mary wrote.”
His heart rate sped up, and he struggled to maintain eye contact with her.
“She says there have been situations before now that caused her to fear there was more to her lack of pay than simply forgetfulness. Henry—”
He cut her off, pacing away from her in an agitated gait. “Why is Mary writing you these things, Julia? She should be sending me her concerns; I am her employer.”
“I believe she was afraid to, honestly.”
Henry grabbed his forehead between fingers and thumb and looked heavenward.
“Is something wrong with our finances, Henry?”
He stared at the ceiling, taking in the morning sunlight dancing across the beautiful woodwork. He nearly laughed at the sight of it. They would have this conversation about how dismal their finances were while surrounded by opulence and wealth. It was rather humorous.
“Henry?” Her voice had a touch of fear laced within the demand.
He dropped his hand, meeting her eye. The ruse was at an end. “Yes. There is something wrong.”
Julia looked unsurprised, but more of that fear flashed in the depths of her eyes. “How bad is it?”
Henry took a deep breath to stave off the inevitable. “It is bad, Julia. Worse than you imagine. But I am fixing it.”
She pressed her eyelids closed. “I should have said something sooner.”
“No.” He walked to her, grabbing her upper arms and bending to her eye level. “This is my fault entirely. I did not want you to worry.”
“But I knew.”
“What?”
She broke from his grasp and crossed her arms. “How could I not know? You have reduced our household to a single maid and footman. Our meals are sparse. You are tyrannical with your candles. We never visit the country estate, even.”
“I’ve rented it out.” If he was being truthful, he may as well spill his entire gullet.
She gaped at him, her hand dropping from her braid. “Goodness. It is that bad?”
He gave a single, sharp dip of his head, his jaw tight.
“How did it come to this?”
And here was the part he wished to avoid. More than anything he wished to keep this from her. But there was no point now. Likely, she’d already guessed. “I lost it all. After . . . after Father passed.”
He expected her to yell at him. But instead she just stared at the ground for several long seconds. “And you are fixing it?”
“Yes,” he hastened to tell her. “I have been working my backside off trying to keep us afloat. I am nearly there, Julia. I’ve made up great ground these last few years.”
Her tone was accusatory. “But you spend every day at the card tables. You come home smelling of drink every night.”
He grimaced at the image she painted. “It is for a good reason, I assure. I am a very good card player.”
She gaped. “Truly, Henry? You are trying to gain back our fortune with cards?”
“Not only that . . . I . . . There are also investments. And . . . other opportunities. If I’d gotten a position, it would tell all of London that we were destitute.
This way is slower, but we will not carry the stain of my mistakes for our lives.
And . . . ” He could not tell her about Carlton.
He had given his word to the man, besides not wanting to put Julia in danger.
He’d learned the difficult way that the more one disseminated information, the less likely it was to stay secret.
And he could not afford the Gentleman Pirate discovering who Henry was and why he was here. “It is the best that I can do.”
She shook her head. “No. There has to be something better. I will help. I can—”
“Out of the question.”
She turned wide eyes on him. “This is not up for debate. We cannot keep going as we are. We cannot neglect to pay our only maid.”
“No. I will pay her; I have the funds. I simply told Barrow to do nothing with them, in case they are needed. And Father’s expected me to look after you. It would kill him to see you turn to work.”
Julia scoffed. “You may have allowed your pride to get us this far, but I will not allow it to take us to our graves.”
That stung, but the entire conversation did. And Henry was in no position to get upset with her sharp words. “If you wish to help, there is one thing you can do.”
She spread her hands wide in a nearly crazed motion. “Please. I am all ears.”
“Marry.”
She froze.
He took a step closer. “If you marry, you will be well cared for. Then I can get a position and . . . Please, Julia, consider it.”
Her eyes flicked between both of his. “That is why we came to the party.”
Henry took a bolstering breath through his nose. “Yes.” It was all he could say.
She laughed without humor. “Of course. It all comes back to you getting rid of me.”
He ran a hand along his jaw. “No, Julia, it all comes back to me wanting to care for you before the world knows of our fall from grace. I cannot have you take on the stain of my misdeeds. I want you to be safe and protected. You must know that.”
She looked into his eyes for a long while.
Long enough that Henry began to wonder when those hairline creases had formed beneath hers.
He’d been so tired for so long—doing everything he could to keep society and her from learning the state of their finances—that he’d not slowed down long enough to truly look at her.
Then her eyes fell away and she took a step from him. “I do not know that Henry.”
His heart dropped to his stomach at the hurt in her voice, but he tried to shrug off his pain of failure.
That was what he did—it was what was expected.
“Come now, you could have your pick of the men here. What woman doesn’t want to meet a handsome young man and fall in love?
Is that not why there are novels? So that even those women fortunate enough to experience such a thing might .
. . ah . . . relive the experience?” He was grasping at straws but had to convince her.
“I do not want to marry.” Her voice was almost pleading, which was worse than when she was angry.
“I know. I know.” He put more emphasis than he’d meant into the repetition. “I know what has happened in your past. I know how abominably that man treated you, and I do not want to pressure you. But would you consider it?”
“I know too much about these men, Henry. They are all the same. They are all awful, immoral men.”
Henry’s eyes went wide at the generalization of his sex. “Not all of them. Not all are like that.”
Julia suddenly turned, pressing her eyes closed before piercing him with a look of reprobation. “Very well, Henry. What if I said I would allow you to play your little game of matchmaking?”
He must have been more convincing than he’d thought.
But then she lifted a palm. “There would be several conditions.”
“Yes. Anything.”
She pointed a finger at his chest. “You must participate as well.”
He nodded. “Done. I will attend every event with you.”
“No, Henry. Participate in the matchmaking. Find someone for yourself.”
His mouth fell open. “I am too old for that. Too poor.” Too busy uncovering a piracy plot.
She rolled her eyes. “You say that my marrying would help our situation. But your marrying could save it entirely. There are several well-off women here that would not mind an older gentleman. Why, take our hostess—”
Henry shook his head. “Not Mrs. Seymour.” Vehemence was strong in his tone and surprised even him.
Mrs. Seymour was plenty beautiful, and he would be lying if he said he did not want to court her.
But she was also an heiress, and Henry had tried that route already.
Of course, he had. Of course, he’d chased down several young women in an effort to fix his situation.
All it had shown him was a reminder that he was the problem as much or more than his finances. The insult a penniless man gave chasing after an heiress. It was embarrassing to think on. Not to mention, Mrs. Seymour did not seem to like him a great deal now.
Julia shrugged. “As I said, there are many others. Find one. Make a match yourself. And only then will I agree to . . . to . . . get to know the other gentlemen.” She said “gentlemen” as if it were a dirty handkerchief she’d just pulled from beneath a horse’s shoe and was being obliged to smell it.
Julia’s failed engagement had happened years ago, before their father had passed.
But she had been young and it had been quiet, hardly publicized.
And at the time, she’d not seemed so angry or hurt.
Just what had happened to his sister to make her this way?
She used to have a quiet wit that made it hard to stifle a laugh in church, and a teasing disposition that left her eyes forever dancing at some jest.
Now, she stood in front of him, her expression devoid of humor and her body stiff with discomfort.
He cleared his throat, crossing his arms. “So, to clarify, I must make a match before you will attempt one yourself? That hardly seems fair. What if it takes me the entirety of the party to convince a young lady to adore me?” And how could he manage to do so at the same time as finding the Gentleman Pirate?
Julia considered, biting the corner of her lip. “No, I suppose you are correct. One week. You must spend one week trying to make a match, then I will attempt likewise. This is good, Henry. A woman’s dowry would help the estate.”
Henry swallowed. Dowry or not, a man in his station could not even afford to think about marrying. The very idea seemed to pluck pounds from his bank account.
But if it was what he needed to do to get Julia to consider the safety of marriage, he would do it.
Perhaps he could manage to make Julia happy without truly attempting to wed.
For one week, he would have to appear dedicated to the cause of matchmaking without toying with a woman’s feelings, which would be difficult.
He nodded. “Very well. You have yourself a deal.”
Julia smoothed her skirts. “Good. Then I will go. I look forward to seeing your efforts in the morning.”
“This is perhaps the most mercenary conversation I believe I’ve ever had with you, sister.”
She had nearly reached the door when she turned back to look at him. “It is the first honest conversation we have had in months, brother.” With that, she left.
And he felt like a cad. For more reasons than one.