One Dance with a Duke (Stud Club #1)(78)

He did not break stride to answer—which was, she supposed, an answer in itself.

“Jack!”

He halted, but did not turn around.

“Have you enough for your fare home?”

“Yes, just.”

“When will I see you again?”

“Soon,” he replied, throwing her a cryptic glance over his shoulder. “Or never.” He jammed his hand into a pocket and resumed strolling away. Turning right toward the entrance hall, he disappeared from view.

Amelia wheeled around and charged straight into the library. “How could you do that to him? How could you do it to me?”

With deliberate calm, Spencer closed the drawer he’d been holding open, then stood from his desk chair. The crisp linen of his shirt stretched taut across his shoulders as he rose. He’d removed his coat for the game, evidently.

“How could I not?” His eyes went to Leo’s brass token, which lay in the center of the ink blotter. He scooped the coin into his palm. “I couldn’t risk allowing him to leave here with this. God knows where he’d lose it, or what further damage it might cause, should it fall into the wrong hands.”

“Yes, but why take it from him this way? He is in financial straits; you want that token. Why not find a solution beneficial to you both?”

He gestured toward the door. “You heard your brother. He didn’t want a price for it. The damn fool wanted to play. Was I supposed to refuse?”

“Yes! You know better, even if he doesn’t.”

“I don’t know where you expect your brother to get some sense, if you keep thinking for him.” He folded his arms. “Perhaps now he’ll have learnt his lesson.”

“He’s learned nothing, except not to visit me again.”

“I can’t say that comes as a disappointment.” He walked out from behind his desk.

“Not to you, perhaps. It’s a grave disappointment to me.” More than a disappointment. More like devastation. She hated to even think about what would happen once Jack returned to Town.

“For God’s sake. Jack is a no-good wastrel. He takes your money and in return gives you no end of worry. And yet you defend his horrid behavior. You coddle and reward him for it.”

“No, I don’t.” Her voice shook. “I continue to love him despite it. And I hold out hope he’ll reform. You needn’t have simply thrown him money. Jack told me he wants to resume his studies at Cambridge. Take orders in the Church.” He hadn’t truly said that last bit, but it was the logical extension. “You could offer him a living as a vicar, or some other chance to earn back his debts.”

“My tenants are my responsibility. You want me to place their spiritual welfare in Jack’s hands? Inconceivable.” He shook his head. “And he didn’t come here with any intention of resuming his studies or taking orders, Amelia. He came for money. He changed his tale the moment I challenged him.”

“He changed his tale the moment you cast him out! Without so much as a word to me, I might add. I thought after this morning, you might begin to see the virtue in engaging your wife in open conversation. We might have at least discussed the matter before you swindled him out of that token and tossed him out on his ear.”

When his only answer was a gruff sigh, she pressed a fist to her chest. “You say your tenants are your responsibility. Well, my brothers are mine.”

She’d been ten years old when Young William was born. Mama had been so weakened from the birth, it was all she could do to tend the baby. Hugh and Jack were seven and six at the time, and their care fell to her. You must be my little mother, Amelia. Look after the boys. And she’d done her best, ever since.

“Spencer, please. I’ve already lost Hugh. I can’t lose Jack, too.”

He came to stand before her. His face was dark with emotion, his posture one of power and strength. His sheer physical nearness roused her body, and she recalled the way he’d tangled his limbs with hers in the stable, kissed her throat, stroked her bare thigh … Despite her anger, she was a breath away from launching herself into his arms and begging him to hold her, kiss her, pleasure her, care for her.

Love her, and understand.

And then he said quietly, “Jack is already lost, Amelia.”

No. Amelia gaped at him, tears burning in her eyes. Marrying Spencer was supposed to mean her brother’s salvation, not his doom. He’d exhaust his fortune for an ill-tempered horse, but he’d write off her brother with a single remark?

“Don’t you say that,” she whispered. “You don’t know him. He and Hugh were just a year apart, and such close friends. It’s like a part of Jack died with him, and he keeps trying to fill that emptiness with gaming and drink. You don’t know how he was, before.”

“And you are blind to the man he is now. I’ve seen this before, in reckless youths with a taste for high stakes and brains starved for good sense. I tell you, he is lost. He may yet find his way back, but only if he discovers the will and strength within himself. Nothing you can do will make him change. You need to snip his leading strings, for both your sakes. No more consoling, no more cajoling. No more money. If you’re not strong enough to cut the ties, I’ll do it for you.”

“Cut the ties? With my own flesh and blood?” She couldn’t believe that this was the same Spencer she’d conversed with in the stables this morning. He knew how important her family was to her. How could he even suggest this? “Of all the arrogant, unfeeling …”