“No.” Lucas swayed toward Rex, eyes bright with some kind of emotion, making him appear almost manic. “I need… I need… I just need some money from you.”
Of course, he did. When was the last time Lucas had not needed money from him?
Rex shook his head, half in denial and half in disgust at himself for letting this situation endure for so long. To his surprise, Lucas grabbed him by the arms, fingers digging in.
“You have to, Rex! You have to help me!” Spittle flew from Lucas’ mouth, and Rex jerked back, throwing Lucas off balance. He fell to his knees at Rex’s feet, but it barely slowed him. Throwing his head back, he stared up at Rex, eyes wild. “Please, Rex… I owe… I owe…”
“How much?” Rex’s voice was heavy, stern, and he backed away another step from his friend. “How much do you owe this time, Lucas? And how much do you owemeby now?”
Anger flashed across Lucas’ face, followed by a sneer. He pushed himself to his feet, still swaying.
“You are not going to help, are you? You do not care at all.”
“I have always cared, Lucas.” Rex kept his voice low, fierce. He would not allow Lucas to pretend Rex had done nothing for him. “I have always helped in the past. That is the problem. You have become reliant on my help, and you need to stand on your own two feet.” He held out his hands in supplication. “Let meactuallyhelp you. We can go over your books, find ways you can save some money, and if you just stay away from the card table—”
“Go to hell, Rex!” Lucas whirled around, shouting over his shoulder as he stumbled to the door. “You and your bloody judgment, always thinking you know what is right. I don’ need you, anyway!”
His words slurred, then he was out the door, slamming it behind him, and stumbling down the street. Pressing his lips together, Rex watched him go from the window, already wondering if he was doing the right thing.
Considering Rex had recently paid off Lucas’ debts only a few weeks ago, how much trouble could he really be in?
Chapter 12
Rex
The quiet of Rex’s house no longer seemed like a peaceful sanctuary after Lucas left. He could still hear his friend’s voice ringing in his head, accusing him. Even though he felt he had done the right thing, finally cutting Lucas off, it did not sit well.
Rather than stew at home by himself, he decided to take himself off to White’s, the exclusive gentlemen’s club, where there would be other distractions, and Lucas was unlikely to show his face. While Lucas had a membership, he preferred less gentile surrounds for his gaming and had no patience for the kind of wagers that made their way into White’s infamous betting book.
Rex did not have any interest in the gaming there, either, but a place where he would not be entirely on his own appealed.
He had cause to regret that decision the moment he was escorted into the main room of the club. There were several gentlemen seated at tables around the room, but the one who caught Rex’s eye was Warwick, sitting with another man Rex did not recognize. Straightening in his seat, Warwick gestured to Rex, clearly wanting him to join them.
Compared to Warwick’s pompous conversation, he suddenly wished he had just tolerated his own thoughts, but it was too late. Everyone in the room had observed Warwick’s gesture. Rejecting the invitation would not only be rude, it would be seen as an insult. At the very least, Rex needed to stop by his table and exchange a few pleasantries. If he was lucky, he would be able to quickly excuse himself.
The majordomo turned to him.
“Would you like to join Lord Warwick, my lord?”
“For now.” Rex would remain hopeful it was not a lasting placement.
Warwick and his friend stood as Rex approached, and Warwick looked almost nervous.
“Hartford, this is the Honorable Captain Nathan Jones. Captain, the Marquess of Hartford.”
“Call me Rex.”
He studied the man across from him, keeping his expression even. The Honorable, likely a second or third son of a family, choosing to join the Army and make his own way in the world—Rex could respect that. Jones had a military bearing, even though he was not in uniform. His dark hair was pulled back in a tail at the back of his head, hazel eyes sharp with intellect, and his bow was practiced.
Not at all the usual kind of company Warwick kept.
“This is fortuitous,” Warwick said, grinning widely, catching Rex off guard. The earl was behaving oddly. Was he trying to impress Captain Jones? Why? He never put on such amiable airs for Rex. “Captain Jones is just returned from the Continent. We met over there, in France, due to… mutual interests.” Warwick slid his gaze Rex’s way, widening his eyes and giving him a significant look.
“Indeed.” Rex kept his expression impassive. He could read between the lines easily enough. Despite the abysmal failure Julian Mitchell had been after being introduced to the Society, Warwick wanted to sponsor Captain Jones. Turning to the waiter who had come to his side, Rex put in his drink order, playing for time.
He did not want to turn down someone just because Warwick was the one introducing them, but after Mitchell, he was far more wary of any recommendation Warwick made.
“Do you plan to spend much time in England?” he asked Captain Jones. The other man nodded. He sat quietly, not drawing attention to himself, his gaze switching back and forth between Rex and Warwick, detecting the undercurrents. Sharp man. With his quiet confidence and stern façade, Rex could imagine him fitting very well into the Society.