Page 9 of An Earl Like You
The other man smiled, a dry twist of his lips. “Do you know how I made my fortune, Lord Hastings?” Hugh stiffened. Cross went on without waiting for a response. “Speculation. A damned risky business, but rewarding.”
“Speculators, as I understand, buy when they see a chance of profit,” said Hugh. “The longer the odds, the greater the profit. The odds of profit from Nesbit’s markers are very long indeed.”Nil, to be precise.
Cross shrugged. “Then I’ve lost. Speculators are accustomed to that, too.”
“I would accept that as a rational, if very stupid, explanation if it were the only instance.” Hugh shifted his weight, trying to keep his anger in check—anger and fear. “Since it struck me as a strange thing to do—speculating so wildly on a debt you know will never be paid—I spoke to my solicitor. He assured me I have no more obligation to discharge the debt to you than I had to Sir Richard, but he also mentioned a few curious documents he’d received of late. You’ve bought more of my loans.”
Cross dipped his head in acknowledgment.
“To what purpose?” Hugh’s composure was slipping. Fury tightened his voice. “Spare me any rubbish about investments and odds. You have systematically bought up a very large portion of my debt. No one does that on a whim. Why?”
“Calling it an investment was not rubbish.”
“If you own it, you must know how large it is,” Hugh said in icy tones. “How unlikely it is ever to be repaid in full.”
It had stunned him, when his solicitor mentioned that the bulk of his debts were now held by Edward Cross. He hadn’t even connected the name to the man for a moment. To the best of his knowledge, he and Cross had had no other contact than the single strained conversation at the Vega Club. Why would a man buy up a perfect stranger’s debt? It brought back every sense of unease Hugh had felt that night.
It was unsettling enough that he finally had to come ask. Cross hadn’t contacted him, hadn’t spoken to him, hadn’t done anything to collect on the very large sum Hugh now owed him. Who the devil was this man? By his reckoning, Cross had paid off over eighty thousand pounds of mortgages, loans, tradesmen’s bills, even debts of honor racked up by Hugh’s father. There was no chance it had been done out of generosity or altruism.
“If you won’t explain why, at least assure me you will hold to the repayment terms I already agreed to,” Hugh demanded when the man only gave a maddening shrug instead of answering him.
“Repay it as you’re able, my lord. I can afford to wait.” Cross twisted in his chair as the sound of barking drifted through the open window behind his desk. “Do you like dogs, Lord Hastings?”
Hugh’s eyes narrowed. “Yes.” He rose from his chair. “If you won’t explain your actions and do not intend to make unreasonable demands, I shan’t impose on you further. My solicitor will see that payments are directed to you.”
“Stay a moment, Hastings,” said Cross absently. He seemed to be listening to the dog instead, his gaze fixed on the window. “All dogs? Even mongrels like the one my daughter has?”
Hugh wanted to leave, but didn’t. It galled him that someone had this hold over him. “I like any good-natured dog. I’m not fond of lapdogs who bite.”
“Good, good,” murmured Cross. Finally he looked at Hugh again, and got to his feet. “I thank you for your visit, sir.”
Thin-lipped, Hugh glared, but finally made a stiff bow.
“Perhaps you’ll dine with us some night,” added Cross. “My daughter and I would be honored to have you join us.”
The cool but polite refusal was on the tip of Hugh’s tongue. He really wanted nothing to do with Cross or his daughter, but the desire toknowwas like a splinter, sharp and festering. “Perhaps.”
“Would tomorrow evening suit you?” Cross smiled faintly at his expression. “I’ve no wish to detain you today, my lord, but there are... opportunities we could discuss.”
“Opportunities.” Here it was, thought Hugh grimly. Whatever Cross wanted from him. His name on some venture? His influence with other aristocrats? He had precious little Cross could want, but he did have friends and was well-regarded in town. The Hastings title was an old and venerated one.
Cross waved his hand. “Nothing criminal! They could be very much to your benefit. I didn’t mean to give offense—quite the opposite. Come to dinner and we’ll speak of it then.” His distant air had vanished, and the tone of command again permeated his otherwise pleasant invitation.
His jaw tight, Hugh nodded. What choice did he have?
Cross owned him.
Chapter 4
Eliza paced the carpet in the drawing room, deeply worried.
Papa had invited the Earl of Hastings to dine. “Why?” she’d blurted out in horror when he told her at dinner the previous day.
“We might have business together, His Lordship and I.” Papa hadn’t noticed her dismay. “I want to make a good impression, so wear something fetching.” And he’d winked—winked, as if he hadn’t seen with his own eyes how unattractive and awkward she’d been when the earl called.
Once Eliza got over her shock, she rushed to begin planning. The ordinary menu was discarded, and a better, more impressive one planned. All the maids were dispatched to clean the dining room and drawing room from top to bottom. She went through her entire wardrobe in search of a decent dress. Somehow that seemed vitally important, if she hoped to supplant the first dreadful impression the earl must have formed of her. Willy, against his will, had been shut up in her room, and the staff was forbidden to let him out no matter how much he barked.
But if she was confident that the dinner, the house, and even her dress were beyond reproach this time, there was still the question of what she would say to the man. Anxiously she wiped at an imaginary smudge on the clock on the mantel. She still had not thought of a witty comment to make, let alone enough comments to form a conversation. As bad as it was to suspect the earl thought her mad after a few minutes in her company, she was very afraid he would think she was an idiot after an entire evening.
