Page 60 of A Gentleman Never Keeps Score
“Of course it’s lovely. And it cost upward of five guineas, I daresay. The point is that he got it for my baby. Formybaby. A child with no father and no background. Five guineas. He tried to tell me that the point of it was for the child to have something to pawn if she hit hard times, which is eminently sensible but a banknote would have done just as well.”
Sam nodded. The truth was that Hartley hadn’t bought that bauble simply to present his housekeeper with something that could be pawned. He had chosen something fine, something that everyone who saw it would admire. Each time Sadie looked at it, she’d be reminded that somebody thought her baby was worth something.
“My point is that he’s trying to do good. Maybe he hasn’t quite got the hang of it yet, but he’s making an effort. And if giving my baby pricey silver cups and offering you money to fix your pub is the best he can do right now, I think we ought to encourage him.”
“What’s that about?” Nick asked, coming to stand by Sam as Sadie left. “Somebody offered to pay to fix the Bell? And you turned them down?”
Sam couldn’t meet his brother’s eye. “That’s hundreds of pounds, at least. I can’t just take that kind of money.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t understand the situation,” Sam said feebly. “Money changes things.”
“Sam, you pillock. You give away money, not to mention food and drink, every day.” Nick faced Sam, his eyes lit with a shrewdness that Sam didn’t see often. It was easy to forget that Nick, for all his easy optimism and bluff good nature, was as canny as anyone needed to be. If sometimes he didn’t see things, it was because he didn’t think it was any of his business. “And you know what? You’re right. Money does change things. You and I have been doing business side by side for years and sometimes when I’m running short you cover the balance.”
“You’re my brother,” Sam protested.
“And when Kate and I get married, you know that money will be involved in our setting up house together, right? She makes a fair bit and guards it like a dragon sits on its hoard. That’ll be something we have to deal with down the road, and she and I both know it.”
“That’s different,” Sam said, and the words didn’t have the ring of honesty even to himself.
“I’m trying to figure out who you know who has a couple hundred pounds to throw around. There’s only one person I can think of, and he walks around alone with five guineas’ worth of buttons, all hours of the night and day. But if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine by me, I suppose. I’ll just ask this. Does this person mean you harm?” Nick asked.
“No,” Sam admitted.
“Does he want something from you that you don’t want to give?”
Sam’s face heated. “No.”
“Then if he’s offering help, and you need help—and you do, Sam—then don’t you think it’s a bit of a slap in the face to refuse? You love the Bell. You did good work, work that you believe in. If you walk away from help, I’ll think you’re soft in the head.”
“But—”
“You know I’m right,” Nick continued. “Now go take a walk or something. I’ll finish up here.”
Sam went to what used to be the Bell and headed for the pump in the back, where he washed himself off in bracingly cold water and dressed in a clean shirt. As he looked at the wreckage of the taproom, for the first time he let himself take stock of the damage. There was no way out of this on his own. As far as he knew, he was still on the hook for this quarter’s rent. He had enough saved for now, but soon he’d need to ask for some of Nick’s earnings. But if he went to Hartley for help, he’d want to offer him something in return—not to make it fair, not to make it an even trade, but because if Hartley had been willing to give up his house for Sam, then Sam needed to find a way to prove that he could throw his lot in with Hartley as well.
Chapter Twenty-four
“I was thinking,” Hartley said, patting the baby’s back as Sadie toasted some bread for him, “I ought to hire a maid. It’s a lot of work you’re doing in addition to taking care of the baby.”
She blinked at him over her shoulder. “Iamthe maid.”
“Balderdash. You’re the cook. And, well, it seems a dreadful imposition to ask you if you’re my friend, when we both know that I pay your wages, and it isn’t as if you could just tell me to bugger off, but I do think we have an understanding that is probably uncommon in most establishments.” The baby made a purring sound that probably indicated indigestion. “Baby agrees.”
He had been thinking about his family a fair bit these past weeks, and even more since Ben’s arrival the previous day. Maybe it was the smell of milk and nappies that set him off, but every time he shut his eyes he remembered his own mother cradling one of his younger brothers. He remembered Ben hanging out the washing when he could hardly reach the line. He remembered his mother and Will’s mother sewing by the fire while his father read aloud; he had always known this was a highly anomalous household arrangement, but was it any stranger than his current living situation? Whatever it was, it had been a family, and perhaps this was too.
She turned away from the fire and looked at him carefully, and it occurred to Hartley that she probably had more experience with friendship than he had. She couldn’t possibly have less. “Why do you think I’d tell you to bugger off?”
“I’m not a warm person. I’m... difficult, perhaps.” He thought of how peaceful and predictable Sam’s life must have been before meeting Hartley. All of the risks in their friendship had been taken by Sam; all the work had been done by Sam. Hartley had contributed nothing beyond some brandy, a warm bed, and emotional disarray.
“Who told you that?” Sadie put the toast on a dish and loaded it with butter.
“It’s hardly the sort of thing I need explained to me,” Hartley said with as much dignity as he could with a mouthful of toast and an armful of wriggly infant. “Even before my disgrace and all that, I didn’t precisely have friends.” There were hostesses who routinely invited him at the last minute to make up numbers; there were gentlemen who nodded to him in the park. There wasn’t anyone he could talk to beyond the basic civilities. “And now, other than, ah, Mr. Fox, the only people I’m close to are the people whose wages I pay, which I do think says something about the paucity of what I have to offer.” Perhaps that was partly why Sam was reluctant to take his money—delicacy about not wanting Hartley to feel Sam’s affections had been purchased.
“I’ve seen you with your brothers,” Sadie pointed out.
Hartley made a dismissive noise. “They’re related to me. They’re required to put up with me.”
