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“Do you want to talk about it?”
For one brief, pitiful moment he’d considered asking his brother-in-law for money, but pride and the fact that the man had already pulled his family from the brink once already prevented him from doing so. If there was one thing that whole debacle had taught him, it was that paying debts with even more debt was a catastrophic idea. Amberwood would likely never even ask for the money back, which made the prospect even more humiliating. James morosely shook his head. “I’m not sure that will help anything.”
“Nonsense,” Amberwood replied. James nearly jumped as the man clamped a chipper hand on his shoulder. “I was just on my way to The White Heather for dinner. You should come along. Working out the problem with friends is always the wisest course, after all.”
“I’m not sure Clifton and Ashford consider me such,” James replied, the prospect of facing the two men rather daunting. That they tolerated him would be a more accurate description of their relationship. During the few rather awkward dinners of Sophie’s he’d attended, the two men were never shy of a good barb or two directed his way. Honestly, if it weren’t for Eliza’s occasional presence, often seated next to him due to his sister’s amusingly obvious attempts at matchmaking, the time spent in their company would have been unpleasant, to say the least.
But Amberwood merely rolled his eyes. “Oh, come now. They aren’t that bad. Clifton didn’t glare at you for the entirety of the last dinner party, and Ashford only insulted you once. Really, I think joining us for a jovial evening would go a long way.” James opened his mouth to decline, but his stubbornly cheerful brother-in-law had already turned around and was walking down the street. “Come along, Dalton,” Amberwood called with a wave of his walking stick. “Clifton will be annoyed if I’m late again.”
“Fine,” James muttered grumpily, trotting to catch up to the infuriating man. Honestly, the way the evening was going, even Clifton and Ashford would need to try quite hard to make it any worse.
**
“Ha! I knew you were tupping her. Ashford, you owe me twenty pounds.”
The duke rolled his eyes. “Must you be so vulgar, Clifton?”
“Yes,” James deadpanned. “Must you?” To reduce what he and Eliza had to mere fucking was insulting in the supreme. “And I would think that my impending ruination should be a more important topic to discuss.” The reception he’d received after arriving with an annoyingly chipper Amberwood had been frosty at first, to put things rather lightly. But time, drink, and him having the bravery to air out the entirety of his dirty laundry to the trio had softened things immensely. That and Clifton’s admission that Francesca had threatened to bar him from the bedroom for a week were he to treat James poorly in the event of a visit. This rather frank discussion of his love life, however, was not much better.
“But that’s just it, Dalton,” Ashford replied. “Lady Aircourt is the solution to all of your problems.”
Whilst the image of her happily wed to him, arm looped through his as she beamed at one of her crowded parties, did a good deal to blast away his melancholies, the thought of using her in such a way left a heavy stone of dread in his belly. “I will not stoop to fortune hunting again.”
“Who said you were?” Amberwood shot back and set down his glass of whiskey with a clank. “We’ve all seen the hints that you are besotted with each other.”
“That’s putting it lightly,” Clifton remarked before taking a swig from his own glass. “We had that bet going for a reason, after all.”
“Even I will admit it, despite betting against you,” Ashford said. “Though I really thought Lady Aircourt would have more tact.”
“Anyway,” Amberwood interrupted in with a mild glare at the two, likely noting James’s reddening ears. “What I’m trying to get at is that she’ll probably say yes. I’m sure she can handle your debts, from the looks of how lusciously ridiculous her balls are. And marriage to such a respectable lady will do much to deflect your mother’s scandal off of you.”
“And I’m saying that I won’t use her in such a selfish way.” James nearly grounds his teeth at the marquess’s thick headedness.
“Then tell her,” he replied bluntly. “Tell her you love her, want to marry her, and are in a ruinous amount of debt. Did it ever occur to you that she might return your feelings and would be perfectly happy to share your burdens? I hardly see how you would be taking advantage if she was entirely aware of the circumstances going in.”
Was it possible? Could he really have everything? The men before him seemed to think it so, and his traitorous heart was overriding the doubts in his mind. “And what if she says no?”
Amberwood shrugged. “Then we’ll be gathered around here, back to square one. At least you’ll know where you stand with her.”
The point was well made. Even if he didn’t propose, if she didn’t return his feelings, then their relationship would likely end after the scandal hit, regardless. There was really nothing for him to lose. Hope stirred, mingled with fear. “Alright,” James said with a confidence he didn’t feel in the least. “I’ll do it in the morning.”
“That’s the spirit,” Amberwood said with a happy smack on the table, so hard that their shared bottle nearly tumbled off the side.
“I swear if you break another one of my prized whiskeys…” Clifton muttered darkly.
“A drink to our friend’s bravery,” the marquess cheered, holding up a sloshing glass and ignoring the simmering earl entirely.
“Here, here,” Ashford drawled, leaning back and raising his own drink.
James took a hearty swallow, focusing on the burn of fine spirits to distract him from his nerves. Come tomorrow, he would either be the greatest ass or the happiest man in the world.
