Page 45 of Counting on a Countess
Langdon waved his hand. “Third sons dwell in another circle. The nonessential laggards. Of course, there were some alterations to your status when you were made an earl. But now you’ve ascended to the heights of the rich aristos.” He titled his head in contemplation. “Yet there’s an air about you...”
“Are we playing or not?” Kit demanded, gesturing toward the billiard table.
But Langdon ignored his demand and studied Kit closely. Finally, he said, “You’ve the obstructed look of a man who hasn’t rogered anyone lately. But that can’t be. You’re newly wed. Unless...” His eyebrows shot up. “Good Christ, you haven’t swived her yet.”
Kit scowled at Langdon. “She was too nervous on our wedding night.”
“And the last night?” Langdon pressed.
“I was too busy drinking myself into a stupor to make an attempt—on her or anyone else.” Alcohol was an old crutch, there to help him sort through confusion. But instead of aiding him in sorting through the tangled web of his life, he’d only fallen into more uncertainty.
His head still felt a little tender from the effects of too much wine. Or brandy. Or was it both? Damn, but he couldn’t remember. He had vague recollections of taking a solitary supper at a chophouse, and then... Did he go to a gaming hell? He might have. He’d gambled deep, and now he owed an obscene amount of money to the proprietors. Money he’d have to pay back by askinghiswifefor the funds.
Langdon shook his head before walking around the table, assessing his position to set up his next shot. “Married barely two days and already you’re drowning yourself in drink. I thought the gel fit all the necessary requirements to be your bride. She looks beddable enough.”
Kit’s jaw hardened. “We may have married for the sake of convenience,” he rumbled, “but you don’t speak of my wife that way. Have some sodding respect.”
He started at his unexpected defense of Tamsyn. It seemed that, despite yesterday’s tangle and the earthquake that followed, his attraction to her persisted.
His friend held up his hands in surrender. “As you please.” Langdon sized up the layout of the table, then positioned himself to shoot. “Your temper is remarkably terrible, considering you’re a wealthy earl.” He took his shot, and, to Kit’s disgust, the ball sank neatly into its pocket.
“An earl in a quandary,” Kit said moodily. As concisely as he could manage, he told Langdon about what had transpired with the reading of Somerby’s letter. “Today, the bankers came to our home and told my wife about the vast fortune she now controls. I made certain I wasn’t home for that appointment.”
For several moments, Langdon seemed immobilized, save for the opening and closing of his mouth. Finally, he said in a stunned voice, “Your friend Lord Somerby was a son of a bitch. No offense,” he added hastily.
“You aren’t expressing thoughts I haven’t already entertained.” Kit sighed and stared at the oil lamps illuminating the table. “I believe that the legal term for my situation is:fucked.”
“Surely she’ll agree to give you whatever money you ask for,” Langdon objected.
“Perhaps. We haven’t discussed it. And there’s a project I’ve got my eye on that’s ruddy expensive.” Kit thought of that dream, how thoughts of the pleasure garden had sheltered him through years of war, offering him solace in the middle of misery. Now it seemed to grow dimmer and dimmer with each moment.
She would never agree to committing so much of their income to something that was, admittedly, a risky investment. A pleasure garden wasn’t a mine or canal or shipping operation. It could fail.
He refused to consider that possibility.
But something couldn’t fail if it never came to pass in the first place.I hold on to every penny, she’d said.
Langdon frowned. “What project is that?”
“No point in discussing it if it’s not going to happen.” Kit tossed his cue onto the billiard table. “I can’t play tonight. My hand’s as unsteady as your morals.”
“If I recall correctly,” Langdon mused, “webothagreed to climb onto the roof of the girls’ academy. So your accusations hold no weight.” He placed his cue in the rack on the wall. “How much does this plan cost?”
“Ten thousand pounds—minimum,” Kit said flatly.
“Good God.”
“Precisely,” Kit agreed. “It’s not exactly a sum that one parts with readily. Somehow, I doubt Tamsyn will simply hand me the cash and send me merrily away.”
“I don’t see why she wouldn’t,” Langdon said with a puzzled frown. “If you tell her what it’s for...”
Kit tapped his fingers on the baize covering the table. “I can’t. She’ll think it frivolous and a waste of money. She doesn’t come from the most affluent circumstances.”
“So you think she’ll hold on to her new wealth,” Langdon surmised.
“From what I’ve learned of her”—which admittedly wasn’t much—“she doesn’t like to spend money. Told me so herself. More than likely,” he speculated grimly, “she will refuse to sink such a vast amount into my scheme, and I’ll be back to where I am now, which is precisely nowhere.”
“Ever the officer, planning a battle,” Langdon noted.
