Grace had never interrupted his father, and he was shocked that she felt she could treat him with such disrespect. “I don’t like your tone, and that is not your concern.”
“It most certainly is. Don’t you realize how fragile life is? If something happens to you, what will become of me?”
And there was the true crux of the situation. His mother was worried about her own future. For a moment, he’d thought she cared about him, but that was merely a dream. Grace had never shown him much love growing up. All her focus had been on Arthur and Oliver, especially Oliver, who’d always been her favorite. George was an afterthought if she even noticed him at all.
“I’m going out this evening. Good day, Mother,” he said, putting down his teacup. He’d had enough of her nagging for one day. He wanted to storm from the room, but he managed to walk out as if he hadn’t a care in the world. His mother’s disdain seemed to have grown worse by the day, like it was his fault that her husband and sons had died in a tragic accident. He hadn’t been anywhere near them, but that didn’t seem to count for anything in his mother’s opinion.
He didn’t really want to go out, partly because he didn’t want to spend money he didn’t have, but he had to leave because he didn’t want to see the condemnation in his mother’s eyes every time she looked at him. As he walked through the foyer to go upstairs to change, Peters held out a silver salver.
“My lord, this just arrived for you,” the butler said.
Hutchinson took the letter and went upstairs to his bedchamber to read it in private. He hoped it was from his friend Richard Ballard, the Marquis of Evans, letting him know that he and Lady Evans were in Town. He tore open the letter.
Hutchinson,
Seems quite strange to call you that, and you must be feeling quite overwhelmed with this turn of events. I can honestly say I know how you feel, having a title thrust upon you, and how difficult it is to navigate estate matters.
Helena and I arrived in Town last night. Please come for a visit at your earliest convenience. I’m happy to offer any help you may need.
Evans
“Perfect,” Hutchinson mumbled to himself. Now he could head to Evans House and spend an enjoyable evening with Richard and Helena. He hoped to pick Richard’s brain on how to increase the income to the estate coffers.
An hour later, he was climbing out of his carriage in front of Evans House and walking to the front door, letting the knocker bang down.
“My lord, it’s a pleasure to see you again. May I offer my sincere condolences on the tragedy your family has suffered?” the butler said, opening the door wide to allow him to walk inside.
“Thank you, Wright. I was hoping to see Evans if he’s receiving guests.”
“Hutchinson!”
He turned to see Evans coming down the grand staircase. “Evans, I decided to take you up on your offer for a visit. I hope this is a convenient time.”
“Of course. You’re always welcome. Come to my study,” Evans said.
He nodded and followed his friend down the hall to his study.
“Care for a brandy, whiskey?”
“I could use a whiskey. Today’s been an ordeal.”
Evans poured the amber liquid into two tumblers and handed one to him. They took the chairs in front of the fireplace. “So, what has you so distressed?” Evans asked.
Hutchinson chuckled. “What hasn’t distressed me is more the question these days.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want to talk about it?”
He nodded and took a large swig of whiskey before he went into detail about the estate finances. “It’s truly a mess, and I put the blame squarely on Arthur. I doubt the estate would be in such terrible condition if my father hadn’t kept paying his outrageous debts. You know Arthur, always doing what he wanted when he wanted. The worst part was my father failed to take him in hand and continued to bail him out. In the process, he nearly bankrupted the estate. I assume my father had finally refused to pay any more gambling debts. He’d reached the end of his tolerance between Arthur’s indiscretion with the young miss and his gambling, it was time Arthur was sent to Ashmont. Of course, my mother has no clue about the real condition of our finances.”
Evans sipped his whiskey. “Bloody hell, George. I had no idea things were so bad.”
“Nor did I. My father never mentioned anything, and my quarterly stipend always arrived on time.”
“Perhaps, he didn’t want you to worry,” Evans said.
“More like he didn’t want me to know how much money he was throwing at Arthur’s problems.”
“True, but tell me, what do you need?”
