other things that had to be addressed first. “Whether or not I elect to pursue Miss St. James as a bride is a matter between me and Miss St. James.”
“Well, you should pursue her. I know what people look like when they aren’t happily married… they look like my parents did. And I don’t think you and Miss St. James ever would.”
In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought. “And why not?”
“Because you’re good people. You care about other people and try to take care of them. Mama and Papa didn’t do that. Papa only wanted to gamble and stay gone for days and weeks on end. And Mama… she only wanted Papa.”
Sobered by that, Winn stared down at the keys. “We aren’t getting very far in your lessons.”
“Are we getting very far in yours?”
He grinned in spite of himself. “You’re very cheeky, you know?”
“Yes,” Claudia agreed.
“I’ll take it under advisement,” Winn said firmly. “Now, do you know which keys are which?”
Claudia sighed but began to rattle off the little bit of pertinent information she had actually gleaned from her one and only music lesson. Winn listened, taking in what she was saying, but part of his mind was thoroughly engaged elsewhere.
He could marry her.
It was a foolish notion, but a strangely appealing one.
*
Averston was in his club, enjoying a light lunch from his concealed vantage point while Mr. Charles Burney made the rounds. He was like a begging dog, going table to table asking for scraps. Were the man not so exceptionally handsome, Averston would have never given him a second thought. But Burney was handsome and incredibly eager. So, Averston considered what to do about his latest paramour. When Burney finally was near enough, Averting called out, “Mr. Burney, a word if you have a moment.”
Burney looked startled, clearly having no notion that he’d been there all along, his table concealed by potted palms and a heavy velvet drape. Appearing less than comfortable, he approached.
“Sit,” Averston said. While it was offered in a welcoming tone, they both recognized it as an order rather than an invitation.
“Your grace,” Burney said. “I wasn’t aware that you were going to be at the club today.”
Averston smiled at that, a cold expression that didn’t reach his eyes. It wasn’t amusement that he felt, after all. Burney’s presumption that he would be privy to his schedule hinted a greater intimacy between them than Averston would ever permit. Whatever had transpired between them in those dark hours together, he answered to no one. The young man needed to remember that. “And why would you be? I see no need to grant you access to my schedule.”
Burney flushed with embarrassment. “You wished to speak with me?”
“This has to stop. Don’t humiliate yourself begging for scraps at the tables of your betters,” Averston said with disdain.
Burney’s flush deepened, but it wasn’t embarrassment now. It was anger. “My betters? Hardly. And I’m left with no choice but to beg! If I don’t find investors, I’ll wind up in the Marshalsea for my father’s debts! And if I don’t get the investors my cousin needs, he’ll—”
Averston waited for a heartbeat but when no more information was forthcoming, he prodded, “He’ll what?”
“It hardly matters. What could be worse than the humiliation of being carted off to prison for debts I had no part in accruing?”
“That is unfortunate but it hardly changes the fact that the stink of desperation on you will send every potential investor running for the hills,” Averston replied calmly, as if the idea of Burney rotting in a debtor’s prison made no matter to him. He wasn’t pleased at the prospect and there might have been a twinge of sympathy, even, but he wasn’t one given to such soft emotions. But, he reasoned, Burney was handsome, eager, and available. While there were others who fit those requirements well enough, and he typically viewed his paramours as expendable, he found himself reluctant to end their sordid little affair on such a sour note.
“Help me,” Burney implored. “It’s in your power to do so.”
Averston shook his head. “The trustees would never release that amount of funds on an uncertain investment.”
“Then don’t invest,” Burney said. “But use your influence so that others will!”
Averston meticulously cut a small bite from the beef on his plate and brought it to his lips. He ate it, chewing slowly, making no move to answer Burney’s impassioned plea. After he swallowed the morsel, he took a sip of his wine. He’d help