Page 56 of Marry in Secret
Galbraith shrugged. “The marriage is legal—you checked, remember? He’s entitled to do whatever he wants with it.”
“He’s given orders to have a third of it converted into gold, to be collected by him the day after the ball.”
Galbraith narrowed his eyes. “He’s going to bolt with it.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“But why only a third? Why not take the lot?”
“How do I know how a scoundrel’s mind works? And there’s more, I’m sure, but Phipps suddenly realized he shouldn’t be telling me—as if I haven’t been managing the girls’ fortunes all this time! He clammed right up, the blasted old pettifog. Wouldn’t say another word. Apologized for his indiscretion. Begged me not to mention it to a soul.” He glanced at Galbraith’s raised brow and snorted. “You don’t count—you’re family.”
“So is Beresford—Rose made it clear at breakfast, remember?” He grimaced. “Quite bossy when she gets her teeth between the bit, that sister of yours.”
“Yes, well she’s going to be left high and dry by that villain if we don’t do anything about it.”
“We? Who said anything aboutwe? In any case, what can anyone do? The law is on his side.”
“The law is an ass.” Cal glowered, brooding at the passersby. “What are you doing hanging around in the street, anyway?”
“On my way to Jackson’s. Felt like some exercise. Thought I’d have a bout or two with the master.”
“Perfect! I’ll come with you. No need to bother with Jackson, I’ll give you a couple of rounds myself. Exactly what I’m in the mood for. If I don’t punch someone soon, I’ll explode.”
“What an irresistible prospect,” Galbraith said dryly. “I can’t wait.”
***
“Told you you should have ordered new duds straightaway. You’ll be lucky if Weston gets that coat finished in time.”
Thomas shrugged. “If not, I’m sure I’ll find one somewhere.”
He wasn’t all that interested in clothes, to tell the truth. He’d dropped in on the bank on the way to meet Ollie and had been stunned by some unexpected news.
“Not like Weston’s,” Ollie insisted. “Still, we’ve got most of it under control now—wonderful how an incentive of the folding sort can hurry things along.”
“Yes, wonderful,” Thomas murmured, not really paying attention. The bank manager had told him the investigation was proceeding, and he’d let Thomas know the moment there was news. In the meantime he needed to talk to Thomas about his mother’s legacy.
Thomas knew almost nothing about it. He knew there was one, of course, but since his uncle had invariably referred to it as “your mama’s little legacy” and described it as “paltry” he’d always assumed it would be negligible—a handful of shares, perhaps, and a few pieces of jewelry. Uncle Walter had promised that whenever Thomas married or decided to leave the navy, he would be provided for in a much more substantial fashion.
But according to the bank manager the legacy was quite a handsome one, enough to support a wife and family in comfort, if not in style. And that was not all.
“So,” Ollie said. “What shall we do this afternoon? Feel like dropping into the club again?”
Thomas shook his head. Ollie’s club was also Ashendon’s club, and he’d rather not bump into Rose’s brother again today. Breakfast had been grim enough. The looks that man could give while cutting up a sausage...
For himself, Thomas didn’t mind, but Rose had fretted. She wanted her brother to treat him like, like a brother. Fatchance. Ashendon had hated Thomas from the beginning and Thomas hated him right back.
If it weren’t for Rose...
“What about popping into Jackson’s, then? Introduce you to the great man, watch a few bouts, maybe spar a bit, drink a few mugs of blue ruin? It’s just around the corner.”
Thomas had heard about the famous boxing club but had never been. “Sounds good.”
***
Jackson’s Boxing Saloon smelled of men and sweat, a combination that sent a prickle of tension rippling down Thomas’s spine. He thrust the memories aside.
Ollie was clearly a regular, for he was immediately hailed by several gentlemen and enjoyed himself hugely, introducing Thomas to this fine fellow and that. “And look, Thomas, there’s the great man himself, Gentleman John Jackson, over there talking to—Oh.”
