Marrying Mr. Darcy (Love Manor #2) - Kate O'Keeffe Page 0,78
Heck, I went with them sometimes. But it wasn’t until right before my father’s death that the full picture of Chris’s influence over him emerged. Father told me he took him to casinos in Monaco for high stakes gambling and that he financed Chris into the games, believing his stories that he was a proficient gambler. He told my father he could help him make enough money to ensure we never lost the house and would live comfortably for the rest of our lives.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Father told me one day when I found him sobbing in his study. It was…a difficult conversation.”
I position myself on his lap and pull him into me for a long hug. “Oh, Seb. That must have been so hard for you.”
His gaze locks with mine, and I see the pain as clear as day lurking in his eyes. “Losing the family wealth was hard, but not as hard as knowing Chris Hampshire was closer to my father than I would ever be.”
“I’m so sorry, Seb. No wonder you hate him. And then you saw him kiss me.”
“That wasn’t my favorite moment,” he replies, the edges of his mouth lifting a fraction.
“Why didn’t you tell me all this before when you told me about him and Jilly?
“I was ashamed. I brought Chris into our lives, into Jilly’s life. My father knew him because of me. I caused my father’s downfall.”
“No, you did not. That’s crazy talk! How could you have known what would happen?”
“Without me, no one would have even known Christopher Hampshire.”
“That’s why you did Dating Mr. Darcy. Because you felt responsible.”
He gives a grim nod. “All they know is Father lost our money and put the house in jeopardy. They don’t know about Chris’s involvement or even the extent of our debts.”
“Seb, no one would blame you for your dad’s decisions.”
He gives me a sardonic smile. “Have you met my granny?”
“Good point. She, ah, she was the reason Chris was comforting me just now.”
“Oh?”
“She told me I would never be good enough for you or your family.”
His face turns to thunder. “I see.”
I hang my head, the numbing effect of the champagne wearing off as the hurt returns. “All the effort I’ve been putting into making her like me was a waste of time, Seb.”
A beeping sound comes from his pocket.
“Is that your phone?” I ask.
“It can wait.”
“But it’s almost midnight. Maybe it’s something important?”
He pulls the phone out of his pocket and reads the screen. “It’s from your mum.”
I take the phone from him.
Hi Sebastian. I’m trying to get a hold of my girl. Can you get her to call me when you get the chance? Thanks.
Worry hits me between the eyes.
“What do you think it’s about?” he asks me.
“I don’t know. Do you mind if I call her? She knows the time difference, so something must be wrong.”
“Of course.”
I pause before I hit the call button. “Seb, I think you need to tell your family about what Chris did and about the extent of your dad’s gambling. You can’t carry all this weight on your shoulders. It’s too much.”
He exhales. “I know you’re right. It’s been so hard.” He offers me a weak smile before he instructs, “Now, call your mum.”
I press call, and immediately it begins to ring.
“Hi, Sebastian,” Mom says. “Thanks for calling me back so fast.”
“Mom, it’s me.”
“Oh, hi, honey. How are you?”
“Is everything okay? Your message got me worried.”
“Of course it is,” she replies breezily and then adds, “Well, mostly.”
“What does that mean? Stella didn’t eat all your arugula again, did she?” I ask, trying to make light of the heaviness settling in my belly. Stella is Mom’s Jack Russell, and she’s got some interesting taste in food. That dog will eat anything. Literally. Once when I was visiting with Mom, she had to scoop a rusty razorblade from her mouth. Another time, it was a rock. Who knows what the doggy thought process was behind eating either of those, but it’s a good thing neither managed to get down her throat.
“Oh, no, Stella’s fine. Don’t you go worrying about her. How are you, anyway?”
“I’m good,” I reply as I hear muffled sounds and a distinctly female voice down the line. “Mom? Are you with someone?”
“Your Aunt Judy’s here. She popped in to say hi,” Mom replies.
There’s more muffled sounds.
“Say hi from me.”
“Emma? It’s your Aunt Judy,” my mom’s older sister says unnecessarily.