Marianne stamped her foot. “You were the one—”
“Kilairne,” Peter said cheerfully, “if you wish to make an explanation, I suggest you begin, before the conversation veers even further out of hand.”
“As ucht Dé,” Clarence muttered.
At least he still cursed in Irish. Celia smiled into her tea, but she was almost weeping. It was too late.
“Miss Janie, may I please have a slice of the almond cake?” Leavenworth said, which set off a chorus of refilling plates and cups. It was kindly done, as it allowed the younger two cousins to regain their tempers.
“Very well.” Clarence turned to Celia, as though by ignoring the rest of the party they could not hear him. “I have come to explain myself and beg your forgiveness. The truth is”—he squirmed—“I have gambled a little too deep, this past winter.”
He waited, as though for Celia’s expression of surprise.
Celia stirred her cup of tea. “So, Clarence, tell me.” The steeliness in her own voice surprised her. “Is there an acceptable amount to lose on gambling? Did you move that line item from the doctor’s salary for Kilairne village, or from the cost to fix the castle roof?”
“I—no, that is. I have always balanced the budget just fine, Celia.”
“I have it on good authority”—Celia met Leavenworth’s gaze—“that yours is an ideal time of life for a young man to save for his future family’s expenses.”
Clarence flushed. “I’m a good manager, Celia. I know I don’t do things the way our father always did, but the world is changing. I’ve worked a deal with the brother of one of my Cambridge friends, who now purchases our flax for nearly twice what Father’s old vendor paid. I’m in negotiations with a new shipping company, who—”
“The point being,” Peter drawled, “what have you done with your money?”
“I did pay Doctor O’Flanagan,” Clarence said. “And I stayed away from the gambling hells.”
“But…?” Celia could hear it in his voice.
“But I got into a few private bets. But you see, I am not entirely a fool, Celie—my friends told me to keep going, double or nothing, and make my luck turn, but I didn’t. I didn’t! I scrimped, and I saved, I wore last year’s waistcoats and stopped serving imported liquor. And you see, I have paid them back.”
Celia had not forgotten Henrietta’s letter. “Except for Lord Edmund?”
Clarence spun his hands. “He is fabulously wealthy, Celia, and he quite fell in love when I described you.”
“He liked me before he met me?” Celia asked.
“Everyone likes you!” Clarence waved his hand around the room. “Just look!”
“But we allknowMrs. Alcott,” Marsh said. “We like her for herself.”
“It doesn’t matter whether Lord Edmund liked Celia,” Marianne interrupted, as voices burst from all directions. “What matters is that Celia said she didn’t wish to marry him, and you insisted anyhow!”
“But she’s happynow!” Clarence declared.
“How would youknow?” Marianne demanded.
“What has any of this got to do with the Latham’s ball?” Celia asked.
Everyone went quiet.
“The rumors about his first wife had not yet come to light.” Clarence laughed nervously. “I owed him money. Enough that it would affect the doctor’s salary. He offered to forgive the whole debt for a small favor, and I knew you want the best for Kilairne, too.”
“I…do.” Was Celia the selfish one?
“Kilairne, you are phrasing this as though Celia must save the home she loves.” Peter’s voice was steady. “When really, you demanded the ultimate sacrifice from her to redeem your own personal blunder.”
“Gentlemen do not ask their sisters to pay their debts of honor,” Leavenworth rumbled.
“He didn’t even ask,” Marianne muttered.
