Page 82 of How to Best a Marquess

Yet he felt wretched, as if he’d lost something much more valuable.

“I trust you are satisfied with the terms?” Lord Castleton said.

Hugh shifted in his seat before the large desk. He felt suddenly parched and eyed the sideboard in the corner of the room. He nodded, aware of Castleton and Mr. Greenstone watching him. “Yes, I will run it as you had.”

“If you need advice about the day-to-day activities, I am not far. Brooks has agreed to remain as your employee. He is an invaluable source of information as well,” Ian said.

“Thank you.”

Ian stood then went to the window overlooking the casino floor. “I will miss this place.”

Hugh pushed back his chair and stood. “You are welcome at any time.”

“I know.” Castleton turned and extended his right hand. Hugh shook it.

Not a man to mince words, Castleton headed for the door.

“Wait,” Hugh said. “Your sister. What is to become of her?”

The earl’s expression was tight as he faced Hugh. “She is going to my country seat. If it were up to me, she would leave immediately. But Lady Castleton wants her to stay until the babe is born, then depart.”

“For how long will she be gone?”

“Indefinitely.”

Hugh stared at him in shock. “You cannot be serious.”

“What is it to you? She rejected your proposal. If it weren’t for your concern, I would not have discovered what Ellie was up to. Christ. Dealing with a renowned courtesan. Smuggling a baron’s wife out of London. Baron Willoughby will be relentless and will use every means at his disposal to find his wife. I’ll need to have men watching him.”

“Ellie meant well.”

“She knew better.” Castleton’s lips thinned.

“I believe you are being too harsh,” Hugh said. This wasn’t what he wanted. Never had he intended to banish her from London, from her sister Olivia, from her friends, from everything she’d ever known.

Castleton’s mouth took on an unpleasant twist. “Leave it, Deveril. She is not your wife, man, but my sister. I will do as I wish. Now excuse me. I must return to my wife.” He opened the door, then departed.

Hugh stood and walked to the sideboard. He reached for a crystal decanter, noticed it was near empty, then went to the door, wrenched it open, and called out. A young lad immediately approached. “Yes, me lord.”

“Whisky.”

Hugh found himself back in the ring with Bear. To be fair, he’d challenged the giant to a rematch. Only this time, Hugh had drunk one too many glasses of whisky. He hadn’t been sober in a week.

His footwork was slow, and he gasped when Bear’s uppercut made contact. Hugh fell to a knee, gasping and sweating. He relished the pain, felt he deserved it and more.

The crowd went wild, cheering and yelling for more.

Hugh felt bile rise in his throat.

Don’t puke on your own boots.

He pulled himself to his feet. He jabbed and hit Bear in the stomach, but his movements felt slow and awkward.

His heart wasn’t in the fight.

His heart wasn’t in anything.

He’d spent a week dissolute and drowning his win of the Raven Club in a bottle. He hadn’t shaved and had been short with his employees. He knew his croupiers and servers weren’t thrilled with the new owner. He’d heard the whispers of disgruntlement and disgust.