In the Baron’s Debt by Roselyn Francis
Chapter Three
The staunch refusal suddenly abated Augusta’s nerves. She rearranged in the seat and sipped from the teacup. Her confidence grew with the movement, as did her anger, helping her to decide that if the Baron could be blunt, so could she. Besides, with James’ financial predicament she could not afford to beat about the bush. She had to get to the point.
“I need you to reconsider,” she looked up from her teacup, connecting their gaze, still amazed at the unwavering stare of his green eyes.
“You think I would?”
“I am hoping you will.”
“The gamble was in good faith, Miss Creassey.” He spoke plainly. The use of her surname only reminded her of the distance between them. “A fair deal was made, and your brother lost.”
“It was not a fair deal,” she shook her head.
“In what sense?”
“In the sense that you were not aware of our full financial situation before you accepted his gamble.” She was relieved to see her words strike a chord with him. Rather than jump to an immediate reply, he sipped his own tea, waiting for her to continue.
“My brother’s propensity for gambling is well known. What is perhaps not as well known, is that he has gambled away what money we were left by my father.”
“All of it?” The Baron lowered his teacup to his saucer.
“The last pennies he lost to you last night.” She explained as she replaced the teacup to the tray, suddenly tired of the drink. “We are in severe debt.”
“As sorrowful a situation as it is,” he looked away from her. “You must know that there is nothing I can do. We gambled, in good faith, and he lost.”
“Would you have taken the bet if you had known our situation?” Her voice was sharp, curt even, with barely veiled frustration. Her jerked at the sound of it. She held his stare firmly, wanting to know his answer, needing to know it. There was a part of her that thought he may have taken James’ money just to harm her further. She wanted him to deny it. Yet he said nothing, he merely focused on his tea instead. She lowered her gaze, struggling to look at him anymore. “I implore you to take pity on him, on us.”
“Pity?” The Baron repeated in surprise, his own voice now just as sharp. “Your brother did not appear a pitiable gentleman last night. He spent money at the club profusely, as though it did not matter to him.”
“It is practically a sickness. It is something he cannot control.”
“That is his own problem to contend with.”
“It is not his problem alone to bear. It is mine too. The staff’s as well.” She raised her eyes again, angered at herself for her stomach fluttering with nerves when she thought how handsome he was. “If you keep this money, we will have to lay off our staff and sell the house. It will not just be my brother’s livelihood that is gone, but theirs too. Staff that have served my family for years will be left without pay. Please,” she paused, breathing heavily for a moment. “I beg of you to reconsider.”
The Baron pinched the bridge of his nose, in apparent discomfort.
“Are you asking me to do this as a favor to you in particular? Or as a favor to him?”
The words made her look away again, she kept her chin high though this time; she was determined not to allow his steely stare to weaken her. It was the only reference either of them had made in the conversation to their past attachment, and she felt her resentment bubbling at him once more for making the allusion to it.
“I do not ask you because of the past between us.” Her mouth felt suddenly dry. She reached for the teacup again, needing the drink. “I ask you to merely show mercy, to my brother.”
“I was surprised to meet him last night.” The Baron leaned forward to refill his cup. “The last time I saw your brother he was still practically a child. I did not recognize him at first.”
“He has changed much.” She did not like to admit how much James had changed. His descent into gambling caused too much pain to talk of.
“Why is he gambling if you are truly in such dire streets?”
“It is a sickness,” she connected their stare again. The green eyes were narrowed on her. “I am doing what I can for him, I am trying to help him, but it is not easy. Yet, if you take this money now, then he is doomed already. That is why I am here. I will do anything, please, I implore you, return the money to him.”
She realized she had no more to say on the matter. She rested her gaze down on her lap and fidgeted for a moment. She had to look away from him. He was more handsome then she had remembered. Even with the cold tone he was adopting with her, the fury at her audacity to be in his house, that he was making no pains to hide, yet his turn of phrase was what she remembered. His voice too was something she had always admired in the past. It was deep and inviting. She cursed herself for the admiration as she fidgeted.
Do not remember the fond memories.
* * *
Loftus was torn. On one hand, he did not like the idea of helping the woman who had once so destroyed his heart, it made his anger curdle in his stomach. Neither did he have a liking for her brother after seeing him again the night before, but this was another matter entirely. If he kept the money James had lost, he would be condemning Augusta to a life of servitude.
I do not think I can do that to her.
The realization caused an icy cut to his chest. It proved to himself that he still cared for her, even though he argued with himself that he did not. It was as though he was looking at her through a haze of red mist caused by his anger, yet she still cut through it, making it difficult for him to hold onto that anger.
His eyes travelled from her to the doorway that Markus had escaped through. There was another problem here to contend with, one that Augusta was completely oblivious to at this moment. If she were truly offering to do anything to secure the money, there was one thing he wanted from her.
Save my son.
“Miss Creassey, you will have observed that my son has a nervousness about him.” He looked back to her, she nodded ever so slightly. “It appears to be a form of mutism.”
“Has he always had it?” She tilted her head to the side, apparently confused by the turn in conversation.
“No,” he chose not to elaborate on his answer as to the exact length of time or the reasons why. “He has not spoken for a while now. Markus is particularly nervous around women. Whether that would be a maid, or a lady come to visit, he is…” He struggled for the right words, scratching his chin in thought for a moment. The image of Markus’ frightened face appeared in his mind for a moment. “Well, he is terrified in their company.”
Augusta’s eyes travelled to the doorway through which Markus had left. She opened her mouth for a second, as though she would reply to Loftus, but then closed it again. Loftus cleared his throat, determined to reveal his proposal before he could back out of his own plan.
“I cannot even employ a nursemaid for him, or a governess. When he goes off to boarding school, he will be surrounded by men, but still unable to be in the presence of a woman. That is no way for a boy to grow up. At present, Markus prefers the company of myself, Holmes, and the footman here.”
“No women at all?”
“No,” he shook his head. “Except, it seems, for you.” His words were spoken sharply, the resentment returning. It made her striking hazel eyes widen. Loftus looked away from them for a moment, knowing how enthralling they were to look at, he could not stare at them for long. “I have not seen Markus comfortable in a woman’s company for some time now. Especially not as comfortable as I did a moment ago when he was with you. He even laughed, did he not?”
“Yes, he did.”
“That is unheard of,” he shook his head again. It was too good an opportunity to miss. He had to help Markus somehow. “This is my proposal to you. I will return the money your brother gambled, but –” seeing her about to reply, he held a hand up to show he was not finished, “in return, help my son.”
“Help him?” She repeated in wonder, her brow furrowing.
“Visit him, help him with his speech. Perhaps after a little time, he could relax with all women again.” He replaced his teacup to the saucer and stood to his feet. “So, Miss Creassey, that is my business proposal. Do you accept?”
She stood to her feet too, her manner betraying her surprise.
“I accept.”
“Good,” he nodded. “Now, as our business is settled, I trust you have no more to say?” He knew it was a rude statement to make, curt and sharp, but he was struggling with how to contend with the warring emotions inside of him. He needed her to leave.
Her lips quirked into the smallest of smiles, it surprised him. She had not yet smiled in his company.
“There was a time when you detested talking of business. You infinitely preferred to talk of other matters.” The allusion she made to their past familiarity grated within him. The words were spoken half in jest, but with also a little derision. He noted how she seemed just as angry in his presence, as he was in hers.
“That was many years ago,” he held her gaze, almost shrugging as he said the words. He had intended for them to come out a little harsh, but he found himself automatically softening the words. “People change, do they not?”
“Yes, I suppose we all do,” she looked down to her hands as she replaced the teacup to the tray. “Have you changed very much?” She would not look up at him, though her face betrayed her interest in the answer. It was a talent he had always possessed, being able to read her quite well. Though he could not read her all the time.
“Substantially, as I am sure you have as well,” he shifted his weight between his feet, surprised how their sharp words had vanished momentarily. He needed to claw back their previous tone; displaying anger toward her was easier to contend with than this. “Even the simple things change. When I last knew you, you spent every morning riding and every evening reading. I would wager you do not do that anymore.”
She looked up with another smile, but this one was sad.
“You would lose your wager. I still do both of those things.” Her voice was harsh as walked away from him towards the door, clearly keen to be as far away from him as possible. “If it is acceptable to you, I will visit Markus tomorrow then.”
He was still reeling from her words, slightly taken aback that it took him a moment to answer.
“Yes, that would be agreeable.” He offered a bow. “Goodbye, Miss Creassey.”
“And to you, Lord Storey.” She bobbed a curtsy, but when she lifted her head, she did not look at him again. She turned and quickly left the room. As she disappeared, he could hear her footsteps retreating away down the corridor, he covered his mouth, baffled by all that had taken place.
What have I just done?
* * *
“James? James!” Augusta spent many minutes walking through the house trying to find her brother. Eventually she found him in the glasshouse at the rear of the building, sat upon a wicker seat between the palm trees. She hesitated in the doorway when she found him, seeing how agitated he was in the chair. His feet were bobbing up and down on the floor and he was leaning forward in his hands.
She knew it was his favorite place in the whole house. Built by their father, it housed the most treasured and exotic plants from warmer climates. James had been reluctant to sell a single item from the glasshouse to help pay for his debts.
“James?” Her voice had him darting his gaze towards her.
“Augusta, what did he say?” He leapt to his feet, with his manner whole-heartedly agitated.
“He agreed,” she sighed as she walked to his side.
“He agreed?” He laughed in amazement. “I knew he still had an affection –”
“No, James,” she cut him off with a wave of her hands, knowing what he was going to say and yet finding it unbearable to hear. “You misunderstand. We have made a business arrangement. He will return the money and I will help his son with his mutism.”
“He has a son?” James was agog with surprise.
Augusta nodded, feeling pain blooming again in her chest. There was a time when she had thought any child of the Baron’s would also be her own.
“Listen, James. This is the last time that I help you, do you understand?” She implored with firmness. He walked away from her around the plants, brushing the leaves with his hands. “I will now have to visit the Baron’s house regularly to help with his child. If you continue to gamble with all and sundry, you surely do not imagine I could make such a deal with every gentleman you lose to?”
“No, of course not, Augusta.” James bowed his head as he fidgeted with the plants.
“No more cards. Promise me?”
“I give you my word,” he looked up from a palm tree, his eyes wide. “No more cards.”
“And you will focus on business matters? Promise me that too. Or perhaps you should find a wife, it is about time you married, for both our sakes.” She turned to walk out of the glasshouse.
“Perhaps you should think on the latter yourself, sister,” he replied, his voice quiet. It made her feet fall still. She flicked her head back towards him. “You would be happier, Augusta, if you were not a spinster.” He added.
“The opportunity for me to marry has long passed.” Her voice was curt, almost cold. “I am a confirmed spinster. Do not raise the matter again.”
I do not involve myself with love or marriage anymore.
She turned and walked from the glasshouse, feeling her heart was made of the same glass. She wondered briefly if it broke again, would it shatter the same way the glass panes could?