For Annes sake, Leo finally said. She would take it very hard if her father went to the Marshalsea.
Wansford became all effusion. Thank you, Bailey. My eternal thanks.
Leo waved off this rhapsody. I need one thing from you.
Anything.
A coin.
The baron furrowed his brow. Coin?
A hapenny, a farthing. Anything. Usually, Leo obtained coins with more finesse, but he hadnt the humor for that today. He simply needed to see Wansfords financial future and be on with his business.
I ... I have nothing. The baron patted his pockets. Buy everything on credit.
Of course he did. Aristos lived on credit. If they could get credit for the air they breathed, they would, but fortunately, air happened to be free.
The next time you see me, said Leo, bring me a coin.
What denomination?
It doesnt bloody matter.
Wansford appeared as if he was about to ask why Leo wanted a coin, but thought better of it. Of course.
In the interim, Ill do some investigating of this iron mine. See how its shaping up. Leo did have abilities beyond his magic.
Whatever guidance you can provide will be most appreciated. The baron started to rise.
One thing, Wansford. What do you intend to invest?
The baron sank back down to his chair. Pardon?
You cannot simply amble toward a venture and say, I want to invest in you, and provide no funding. There has to be actual money involved, or some other form of capital. And offering your word as a gentleman wont suffice.
Ah.
Yes. Ah.
Silence descended.
Supposing, began Wansford, supposing you lent me the funds.
On what security?
You
know I shall pay you back. If all your investments succeed, then the money is as good as yours.
Leo shook his head. Unsound, to hold faith to something that doesnt yet exist.
The baron compressed his lips into a line. You leave me little choice. I do have something to use as collateral. He stared at Leo. My estate.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Leo gazed at his father-in-law. The Wansford baronial estate did not amount to mucha leaky-roofed manor with poor yield on its cropsyet the significance of the place could not be discounted. Land was everything. Ancestral land held even more symbolic value. An aristocrat could not exist without his estate. He became as empty and fragile as a soap bubble.
For Wansford to offer up his estate to Leo ... The man had to be desperate. And Leo was just bastard enough to exploit his desperation.
He held out his hand. The baron stared at it as though it were a viper poised to strike.
This is how gentlemen seal bargains, Leo said.
Wansford shook his hand, but released it quickly. You will not mention this to Anne?
Of course Ill tell her about it. Leo stood. I dont keep secrets from her. As he said this, the irony of his words congealed in his chest.
The baron looked dubious, yet he saw that Leo wasnt to be dissuaded. He rose from his chair. I thank you. He edged toward the door.
Anne can join us again. Youll stay for dinner.
Ah, no. I have ... engagements.
What sort of engagements an impoverished nobleman might have, Leo could not hazard a guess. He did not care. A footman answered his summons, and escorted Wansford to the door.
Leaving Leo to contemplate the complicated knotwork of his life. Until now, he had kept Anne separate from the commerce that ruled his life. Yet now, they were tied together. Loops and twists irrevocably bound, with no beginning, and no end.
Anxiety coursed through her. This was a test, and she must pass it.
Anne gazed down the length of the dining table. Her first foray into the realm of hosting guests for dinner, and she wanted everything to succeed. For her sake, and that of her husband.
She might have spared herself some apprehension, as the guests were Leos closest friends and perhaps less likely to judge harshly. Or that made her every action doubly scrutinized. If she said that she did not care about these mens opinions, she would speak false.
Flickering candlelight gleamed on platters of roast venison, pheasant with chestnuts, fricassee of mushrooms. Dark wine filled the glasses.
Masculine voices and laughter ringed the table. Anne had brothers, yet she never felt so fully immersed in male company as she was this night.
The Hellraisers sat at her table. They all insisted she call them by their Christian names, yet it did not make them any less intimidating or foreign, visitors from a nighttime realm, bearing shadows and an air of wildness. Even the substantial dining room could barely contain the dark, vivid energy that radiated from all of themincluding her husband.
Lord Whitneys words burned at the back of her mind, acrid and scorching. The men at her table were the Devils legion. Or so one madman would have her believe. She did not want to view the Hellraisers through the mist of Lord Whitneys insanityyet it clung to her like plague-bearing vapor.
Missed you at the boxing match the other night. John chided Leo.
Her husband lounged like an indolent pasha in his chair, his fingers draped over the rim of his glass. I was busy.