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Sculthorpe tensed and his eyes darted nervously to Sir Walter. Why the devil would Sculthorpe be scared of Sir Walter, of all people?
Whatever Arabella knew about him, it was not trivial.
Bloody hell. Guy should never have walked out of that room without making her tell him the full story. He should have found a way to assure her that whatever Sculthorpe had done, whatever anyone did, Guy would always be there to help.
I just do what feels right, Freddie had said.
Ah, Freddie. Terrible judgment in some respects, but wise in others. And what felt right…
What felt right was to trust Arabella.
Guy crossed to where the butler was hovering in the doorway. “We need Miss Larke here as soon as possible,” he said softly. “She’ll know what to do.”
“I believe she is out riding.”
“I’ll have to keep them talking,” he said. “We need Lady Belinda too. And if—”
“I say, Lord Hardbury,” came Sir Walter’s voice.
Guy excused himself to Ramsay and turned around. “Are you still talking?”
Sir Walter shot a shifty look to where Sculthorpe was lounging against the mantelpiece. “It occurs to me we could find another solution. I refer to our previous agreement.”
“What agreement?”
“Whereby you marry our Matilda and custody of your sisters passes to you.”
Guy glanced at the butler. “And if you would be so kind, Ramsay, it seems I’ll require a gun.”
Ramsay’s mouth twitched. “Yes, my lord.”
Across the room, Sir Walter looked earnest.
Guy shook his head. “It continues to astound me how my father’s will is a powerful legal document when it suits you, and easily overruled when it does not.”
“I speak of a gentleman’s agreement, my lord.”
“For that, we would both need to be gentlemen.”
Sculthorpe chuckled, as he turned his silver cigar case in his hands.
“We had an agreement too, Sir Walter,” he said. “Don’t wriggle out of it now.”
“Agreement?” Guy repeated. “What did Lord Sculthorpe offer you, Sir Walter, in exchange for giving him my sister?”
“Why, my lord, you offend me! I do this not for my own benefit but—”
“Oh, let up, Treadgold,” Sculthorpe interrupted. “We all see you for the weasel you are. If you must know, Hardbury, I offered to create a sinecure for him, worth two thousand pounds a year, and another for his son, whatever his name is. It’s what your father used to do.”
“Yes, I recall. The Old Corruption is alive and well. Well played, Sir Walter. Let me get this straight.” Guy glanced out the window, wishing Arabella would arrive. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could restrain himself from beating these men’s heads together. “If I play by your rules, the only way to save Freddie from Sculthorpe is to marry Matilda, to do which, I would have to jilt Miss Larke.”
Sculthorpe slipped the cigar case back into his pocket. “No more than she deserves. Come, Hardbury, you cannot still be so naive about women. You must know what kind of woman Miss Larke is.”
“I know exactly what kind of lady she is.”
Guy met the other man’s eyes steadily. Sculthorpe’s features tightened, and there might indeed have been a brawl in Lady Belinda’s drawing room had Sir Walter not interrupted.
“What is your decision, my lord?”
