“Come along now. You should be attending all them posh balls and finding yourself a fancy lady to take as a wife. Not wasting your life away in here.”
“I’m hardly wasting my life, Hardy. Hell still makes a tidy profit, which is why you’re interested in buying it. Besides, I’m still the bastard son. Most of those fancy ladies don’t want a bastard for a husband.”
“Most won’t mind a wealthy bastard.”
“True, but I might not be interested in them,” Simon retorted. The last thing he wanted was a spoiled little girl for a wife.
“It’s a good offer.”
Simon looked down at the number and knew Hardy was right. Still, something inside him refused to think about what not owning the gaming hell would mean. Could he accept the life his natural father had wanted for him? He knew his brother Harry would love to see him in Society. But that would mean giving up the one thing that had made him the man he’d become, the one thing that freed him from his stepfather.
“I’m sorry, but I just cannot sell,” Simon muttered before taking a long draught of whisky.
Hardy picked up the paper and folded it before placing it in his waistcoat pocket. “That’s a damned shame, King.”
“It wasn’t an easy decision, Hardy. I will let you know if I change my mind.”
Hardy shrugged his burly shoulders. “The offer might not still be good then.”
“I understand.” Simon glanced over at the clock and swore under his breath. He was already late, and his brother would not be happy about that. With Hardy departed, Simon ascended the steps to his bedchamber to dress for the ball. As he did, a loud cheer rang out from the gaming room, announcing a winner at one of the tables.
In just over an hour, he alighted from his coach in front of Lady Leicester’s town home. He couldn’t be too late as there was still a crowd waiting to move inside. Once in the grand hall, he greeted the dowager countess and then spied his brother and sister-in-law speaking with Raynerson and his wife.
Lady Leicester always held the first ball of the Season and loved causing a commotion. Inviting Simon gave her the chance to please Harry and spite the ladies of the ton who would hate the idea of a bastard being near their precious daughters.
“You are late,” Harry grumbled as Simon approached.
“As if I care,” Simon said with a laugh before turning his attention on Louisa. “Alas, I might care about not seeing you.”
“Hah! You only want to see your nephew,” Louisa retorted.
“I didn’t know he was here. Seeing George will definitely make this evening less dull.”
“Lady Leicester insisted I must bring George with us so that I could stay longer. Come up to the nursery with me.”
He waggled his brows at her. “Are you certain you trust me alone in the nursery with you, Duchess?”
Louisa laughed. “Nurse will be there.”
“Oh, very well, let me go up and see the young man.”
He followed Louisa up the steps to the nursery and smiled when he heard the cries of a three-month-old. “He sounds hungry.”
“He is always hungry. So, you only have a moment.” Louisa turned her attention to her niece, Jane, asleep in the infant bed. “Nurse Godwin, has Jane been good for you?”
“Of course, Your Grace. Jane is a sweet little thing. Hasn’t made a sound even with the little lordship’s cries.”
“Excellent. I will let my sister know when I return to the ball.”
Simon relieved the nurse of her charge, picking up George and held the infant above his head. “My goodness, you have grown in a fortnight, sir.”
George stopped crying and cooed down at his uncle.
“How do you always manage to calm the boy?” Louisa asked. “Not even Harry can do that.”
“It’s usually the ladies I’m good with, but I’m his scoundrel of an uncle, so why wouldn’t he love me?” Simon said before a copious amount of drool hit him in the chin. “All right, I believe he is all yours now, Duchess.”
Louisa took her son and moved to a chair. “Leave us