Page 6 of The Baron's Reluctant Bride
"Four thousand pounds."
The figure hung in the air between them, monstrous and impossible.
"William, that's—" She stopped, unable to find words adequate to the catastrophe. Their entire annual income was scarcely more than that. "We don't have such sums. You know that. The estate hasn't recovered from Papa's illness, and with the poor harvest last year—"
“Do you suppose I am unaware of it?" he hissed, suddenly angry. "Don't you understand that I lie awake every night remembering that I'm meant to be the man Papa was? The perfect Viscount, the responsible son, the provider for the family?"
"I'm not asking you to be perfect," Gemma said quietly. "Just responsible enough not to destroy what's left of our livelihood."
William's anger deflated as quickly as it had flared. "It's not just the money, Gem. That is distressing enough as it stand, but it's... it's who holds the debt now."
Something in his tone raised the fine hairs on Gemma's arms. "What do you mean? Is it not Lord Fanworth?"
"It was." William swallowed hard. "Until yesterday. Now Thorne holds all my markers."
"Mr. Thorne?" Gemma recalled the silver-haired merchant from the ball, the unsettling coldness of his eyes despite his charming smile. "But why would he—"
"Because he wants something from me." William's voice dropped so low she had to strain to hear him. "Information. About the investments and trading ventures of certain noble families I know. He's particularly interested in Hawthorne Trading Company."
Gemma stared at her brother, horror dawning. "You cannot mean to suggest that Mr. Thorne is blackmailing you."
"He prefers to call it an 'exchange of favors,'" William said bitterly. "He didn't threaten me outright—he's far too clever for that. But he made it abundantly clear that if I don't provide him with what he wants, my debts will become public knowledge. The scandal would destroy us, Gem. Not just socially, but financially. Every creditor we've been keeping at bay would descend at once."
"But what you're describing is... highly improper, William. It's dishonorable." She could hardly believe she needed to say this aloud. "Whatever information Mr. Thorne seeks, it cannot be for honest purposes."
“Are you under the impression that I am impervious to that?” William ran a shaking hand through his disheveled hair."I was foxed, Gem. Three bottles of claret and too much pride. I was trying to impress Ridley and those other dandies, boasting about my connections to half the peerage. Thorne was there, in the shadows. Listening. And now he expects me to be his... his spy." His voice broke on the last word.
Gemma tried to think through the implications, her mind racing despite her exhaustion. "How did this begin? When?"
"About a month ago. I lost heavily at Fanworth's—almost a thousand pounds I didn't have. Thorne appeared the next day, offering to settle my debt. Said he'd heard I was in a tight spot and wanted to help 'a promising young nobleman.' I should have known better."
"Indeed you should have," Gemma agreed, unable to keep the edge from her voice. "What have you told him so far?"
William looked miserable. "Nothing important. Mostly gossip about who's investing in what shipping ventures, which families are expanding their interests in the West Indies. But he's growing impatient. Last night, he made it clear he expects more substantial information, particularly about Hawthorne Trading Company and its investors."
"Why that company specifically?"
"I have no idea. But he seems to have a particular interest in Lord Brokeshire's involvement." William grimaced. "Apparently, the rakish baron is a significant investor, despite his reputation for dissipation."
Gemma's mind flashed to Lord Brokeshire's penetrating green eyes, his surprisingly perceptive observations during their dance. Had there been some purpose behind his attention to her? A chill ran through her at the thought.
"This is dangerous, William," she said slowly. "Mr. Thorne is not someone to be trifled with. And if Lord Brokeshire is involved..."
"I am fully aware." William looked younger suddenly, vulnerable in a way she hadn't seen since their father's death. "I've made a terrible mess of things, Gem. I've been such a bloody fool."
"Language," she admonished automatically, then sighed. "But yes, you have."
"What am I to do?" There was real fear in his eyes now. "If I refuse Thorne, he'll ruin us. If I continue... it's not just dishonorable, it's likely illegal. And who knows what damage I might cause to innocent parties?"
Before Gemma could respond, a soft knock preceded the opening of the study door. Helena Sinclair stood on the threshold, her face pale but composed, dressed in a morning gown of faded lavender.
"William! When did you arrive home? Mrs. Winters said Gemma has been working since dawn, and I—" She stopped abruptly, taking in the tableau before her: William's disheveled appearance, Gemma's obvious distress, the ledgers spread across the desk. "What has transpired here? Why do you both look so grave?"
Gemma exchanged a quick glance with William. Their mother's health had been fragile since their father's death; the entire truth of the circumstances would only cause her unnecessary suffering.
"William has incurred some gambling debts, Mama," Gemma said carefully. "We were discussing how best to address them."
Helena's hand fluttered to her throat. "Oh, William. Not again."
