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As Michael paced, their guest, Mr. Jeremy Waters, was sitting in a chair, visibly shaking. His fingers trembled so much, it was as if he’d suffered some sort of shock.
“You cannot expect me to pay, My Lord,” Mr. Waters was saying repeatedly to Michael, his voice squeaky with desperation. “I have given everything I have to this establishment.”
“Ha! You make it sound as if you were a benefactor rather than a gambler.” Michael’s words made James smile as he hovered by the open door. “You are in great debt to this gambling hall, and neither I nor the proprietor can continue to maintain your debt. You know the rules, Mr. Waters; you must pay your debt.”
Mr. Waters shook his head and bent forward as if he had been punched in the gut by those words.
“Oh, oh, I do not feel well,” he wailed then placed a hand to his chest. “I believe I am having heart trouble, palpitations. Oh no!”
“A fine actor you are, sir, but I need to point out that your heart is placed in your left-hand side of your chest not your right.” Michael calmly stopped walking and pointed at Mr. Waters’ chest, showing he was clutching at the wrong part of his torso. Mr. Waters moved his hand to the correct side, but it was too late. His attempt to garner sympathy and possibly an escape from this meeting had failed.
No control, that was the man’s problem.
James kept the thought to himself as he watched through the open door, seeing the orange light from the candles flicker so much that the light and shadows danced across Mr. Waters’ face. He’d seen such weaknesses many times since he’d opened the gambling hall. No man had good control of himself, at least none as good as him.
My rules are simple and should be any man’s rules. No liquor, no gambling, and nothing that can threaten my discipline.
He’d adopted these rules long ago, and they had served him well. After his father had passed, and the dukedom faced ruin, James had opened the gambling hall with Michael coming in to work for him. Through his discipline and hard graft, James had seen the business grow to the resounding success it was today.
The dukedom was profitable once again, and he’d never need to fear losing money, or dread a debtor’s prison, but it had come at a price. Many suspected what good there could be in a man who owned a gambling hall. His reputation had been torn into tatters by the scandal sheets, and his younger brother barely spoke to him, fearing what association could do between them.
Despite the damage, James would not change things. He was content, happy as he was, and that was all down to one thing.
I keep to my rules.
“I beg of you, sir, I must see a doctor,” Mr. Waters pleaded with Michael again.
“You’re no sicker than I am. Your only sickness is of your wallet, not your body.” Michael gestured to the man, watching as Mr. Waters’ hands lowered from his chest.
James had had enough and pushed the ajar door wide open, revealing his presence. At once, silence fell in the room. Michael turned to face him with a small smile, revealing grey eyes that looked tired and a mop of dark blond hair that was tangled, for he had pulled at it in stress many times.
Mr. Waters said nothing, yet he audibly gulped as he looked toward James. Slowly, James stepped into the room, aware of the power that had shifted toward him at that moment. It always seemed to be the same. Either men feared him or his influence, for they frequently fell quiet in his presence, and they became obedient like young, newly weaned pups.
“Mr. Waters,” James’ voice was deep as he approached and stood in front of the gambling man. “I’ve had enough of listening to your quarrels with my manager, and I’ve equally tired of the credit we have given you in this establishment.”
“I will pay, Your Grace, I will!” the man said desperately, leaning out of his chair. He looked ready to stand and paw at James’ tailcoat with his hands outstretched. One hard glare from James’ dark blue eyes was enough to keep the man in place.
“What money do you have to your name now? Hmm?” James asked. His voice was quiet, but the depth was enough to make the man’s trembling worse. It was a rare thing indeed for James to need to shout.
“A little.” The man gulped again. “I regret to say… I cannot pay at this time.”
“How much does he owe?” James turned his focus on Michael. His friend reached for a table nearby and opened up some papers, revealing a total sum that he passed to James. “God’s wounds,” he muttered. “I pray you do not have a family, sirrah. I’d hate to hear of a family dependent on your poor fortunes now.”
“I do have a family, Your Grace,” the man said meekly. “Two young-uns and one that’s old enough to be taken from school.”
James cursed under his breath. He could see Michael was equally aggrieved at this news, shaking his head and muttering under his breath.
It would not be the first time James had demanded money from his customers. Frequently, some of them needed a helpful reminder that his business wasn’t a charity. It was their own doing if they got themselves into such trouble that they couldn’t pay him back. Merely the year before, James had seen one customer go to debtors’ prison, not only incapable of paying James but his other creditors too. That man was alone though, unmarried, and without a family depending on him.
James thought back to the moments when he was at university, learning as much as he could. He’d been absorbed in his studies the day a letter had arrived from his father, telling him of the dire circumstances the dukedom was in. That was many years ago, but he hadn’t forgotten that night. The world had come crashing down around him in that moment, and life had been different ever since.
I’d hate for that to happen to this man’s children.
“I cannot let any customer of mine not pay, sir.” James lowered the papers to the table and slowly turned back. “Equally, I have no wish to bankrupt a man and his family. So, I will propose a deal for you. A payment plan. You will pay the gambling hall back your debt but in instalments. I hope you have a fair job, sirrah, for you will need it. In the interim, you are banned from the gambling hall.”
“Banned? But I could win my money back. One good hand, that’s all I need, Your Grace!” Mr. Waters’ desperation made James’ lip curl in disgust as he exchanged an uneasy glance with Michael.
“Gamblers always think the same. The luck of the next hand will save them, they think. Take my advice, we make our own luck in this world; we don’t win it.” The latter words were harsh enough to urge Mr. Waters to flinch in his seat. “Come, to your feet. I’ll show you to our clerk where your payment plan can be drawn up.”
