The Serpent Prince (Princes #3)(76)

“I only know what Simon has told me, and that has been precious little.”

“Simon Iddesleigh was no doubt prejudiced in his account, however small it was,” Sir Rupert said. “The facts are these: We had invested in tea and stood to lose everything. We all agreed to a course of recovery. All, that is, but Ethan. He—”

“This is about money?”

Sir Rupert looked at his son. Christian wore an embroidered silk coat that would provide food and shelter for a laborer’s family for the better part of a season. He sat in a gilt-painted chair a king wouldn’t be ashamed to own, in a house on one of the best streets of London.

Had he any idea at all? “Of course it’s about money, dammit. What did you think it was about?”

“I—”

Sir Rupert slammed the flat of his hand down on his desk. “When I was your age, I worked from before the sun rose until past dark of night. There were days that I fell asleep over my supper, my head on a plank table. Do you think I would ever go back to that?”

“But to kill a man over gold, Father.”

“Don’t you sneer at gold!” Sir Rupert’s voice rose on the last word. He brought it under control again. “Gold is the reason you have no need to labor as your grandfather did. As I did.”

Christian ran a hand through his hair. He seemed dazed. “Ethan Iddesleigh was married with a little daughter.”

“Think you I would choose his daughter over mine?”

“I—”

“We would’ve lost the house.”

Christian looked up.

“Yes.” Sir Rupert nodded. “It was as bad as that. We would’ve had to retire to the country. Your sisters would’ve lost their seasons. You would’ve had to give up that new carriage I’d bought you. Your mother would’ve had to sell her jewels.”

“Were our finances so dire?”

“You have no idea. You get your quarterly allowance and never think where it comes from, do you?”

“Surely there are investments—”

“Yes, investments!” Sir Rupert pounded on the desk again. “What do you think I’m talking about? This was an investment—an investment upon which our entire future depended. And Ethan Iddesleigh, who never had to work a day in his life, who had his entire fortune handed to him on a silver platter when he was but a babe, wanted to stand on principle.”

“What principle?” Christian asked.

Sir Rupert breathed heavily. His leg was hurting like the very devil and he needed a drink. “Does it matter? We were on the brink of destruction. Our family, Christian.”

His son merely stared at him.

“I told the others that if we got rid of Iddesleigh, we could go ahead. It was a short step from there to getting Iddesleigh to call out Peller. They dueled and Peller won.” He leaned forward and pinned his son with his gaze. “We won. Our family was saved. Your mother never even knew how close we’d come to losing it all.”

“I don’t know.” Christian shook his head. “I don’t know if I can accept that you saved us this way and left Ethan Iddesleigh’s daughter fatherless.”

“Accept?” A muscle in his leg spasmed. “Don’t be a fool. Do you want your mother in rags? Me in the poorhouse? Your sisters taking in washing? Principles are all well and fine, lad, but they don’t put food in your mouth, do they?”

“No.” But his son looked doubtful.

“You are as much a part of this as I am.” Sir Rupert fumbled in his waistcoat pocket before rolling the ring across the table at his son.

Christian picked it up. “What’s this?”

“Simon Iddesleigh’s ring. James had it taken from him when his thugs almost killed him.”

His son raised incredulous eyes at him.

Sir Rupert nodded. “Keep it. It will remind you of whose side you stand on and what a man must do for his family.”

He’d raised Christian to be a gentleman. He’d wanted his son to feel at home in the aristocracy, to never fear that he’d make a faux pas and give away his plebeian origins—as he himself had feared as a young man. But in giving him this confidence, this assurance that he need not worry about finances, had he weakened his son?

Christian stared at the ring. “He killed Walker this morning.”

Sir Rupert shrugged. “It was only a matter of time.”

“And now he’ll come after you.”

“What?”

“He knows about you. Walker told him that you were the fifth man.”

Sir Rupert swore.

“What are you going to do?” His son pocketed the ring.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? What do you mean? He’s tracked down the others and forced them to call him out. He’ll do the same to you.”

“I doubt it.” Sir Rupert limped around the desk, leaning heavily on his cane. “No, I sincerely doubt it.”

WHEN SIMON ENTERED THE BEDROOM that night, the house was quiet and dark. Lucy had begun to wonder if he was coming home at all. She’d spent the afternoon waiting, futilely trying to read a book she didn’t even remember the title of. When he hadn’t arrived home at their usual dinner hour, she’d supped alone. And then, determined to speak to him when he did return, she’d gone to bed in his rooms. Now she sat up in his big mahogany bed and wrapped her arms around her knees.