The last thing in the world Greg wanted was to be responsible for Gillingham. Poor Bella, stuck with this inept fool all her life. Greg blew out a breath as he started toward her fallen brother. “Did you lose all of it?” he asked.
Gillingham squinted up at him in the darkness, clearly quite deep in his cups. “Are you following me?” He hiccupped.
Greg offered his hand to help his would-be brother-in-law back to his feet. “Coincidence, I assure you.”
Gillingham snorted at that. “Once.” He hiccupped again. “Once, is a coincidence.” Then he stubbornly pushed up to his knees without accepting any assistance. “You can tell Bella I don’t need a nursemaid trailing after me.”
Greg had never been referred to as a nursemaid before, at least not that he was aware of. “Well, you need someone looking after you.” Not that Greg was volunteering for the position. God help anyone who was ever assigned that unthankful chore.
The drunkard stumbled from his knees back to his feet and surprisingly staggered only slightly in the process. “I’ve been doing just fine on my own.”
Oh, he was doing amazing on his own. “Stealing your family’s jewels, losing all your money, getting tossed from gaming hells.” Greg shook his head. “You’re on a deadly path if you don’t right yourself, Gillingham.”
The belligerent man glared at him with unabashed annoyance. “You don’t know the first thing about anything.”
“I know you break your sister’s heart every single day. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
“A bit dramatic. I’m certain she’ll survive.”
The selfish bastard didn’t care who he hurt on his downward spiral of destruction, and Greg had endured all of the man’s idiocy he intended to. “Now, see here—”
“You’re the last jackass in the world I care about.” Gillingham scoffed. “If you want to be some white knight, you should be looking after Bella. She needs that more than I do.” He shook his head. “No need for us to have any more of these little tête-à-têtes, Avery.” And then he turned his back on Greg and started down Floral Street and somehow managed to keep his balance in the process.
Practice, Greg decided, practice was the only thing keeping the man upright. After all, he’d had years and years of practice it seemed.
But one thing Gillingham had said niggled in the back of Greg’s mind. He should be looking after Bella? What exactly did that mean? Had something happened that Greg didn’t know about? Then he scoffed to himself. Why the devil was he trying to make sense of the random ramblings of an inept drunkard? Greg frowned after the dolt one more time and then tried to shake the man’s nonsense from his head. Then he turned on his heel and returned to the raucous hell.
Across the crowded gaming room, he spotted Tristan and Simon staring in his direction. At least, he supposed, they believed Greg and Bella’s betrothal was real. If he didn’t care for the girl, he wouldn’t try time and time again to talk sense into her worthless brother, would he?
Greg navigated his way through the crowd and dropped back into his seat with an irritated sigh.
“So that went as well as it did at the brothel, huh?” Tristan asked.
“Who is the bigger fool?” Greg asked. “Him? Or me for trying to talk sense into him?”
Tristan shrugged. “You love Lady Arabella. I imagine there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for her. That doesn’t make you a fool.”
Well, Greg felt like one. And he didn’t want to think about whether he did or didn’t love Bella. So much for an evening of distraction. Even now he was thinking about her, and he couldn’t help doing so.
“I’m lucky Greywood is a decent fellow,” his brother continued. “But if he was haunted by the same demons as Gillingham is, I would do the same things on Phoebe’s behalf as you’re doing for Arabella’s.”
Simon quirked Greg a grin. “I daresay the lady entering your life has made you less boring, my friend. I say you keep her.”
“I hadn’t asked for your opinion.”
“No,” Simon agreed with a shrug. “But you are welcome to it.”
Chapter 17
Bella waiteduntil after Grandfather and Johann had quit the breakfast room before she stepped over the threshold and settled into a seat along the far wall. Heaven forbid she should have to engage either of them in conversation.
Besides, the situation with Elliott lay heavily on her mind, and focusing on him had to take her full attention. Her brother would have to make an appearance in the breakfast room at some point, she was certain. At least she thought he would as he’d have to eat sooner or later, though she feared it would be later rather than sooner considering his late nights. And last night he’d been later than usual, according to Mary and the servants’ gossip.
Time ticked by, but Bella waited patiently; and eventually, she’d outlasted Papa and even Prissa in the breakfast room. But she wasn’t deterred and was determined to stay put until her quarry finally arrived.
Sitting alone, she sipped what was now tepid tea, while she drew various angles of the exterior of the Royal Opera House from memory in her sketchbook. She wasn’t certain how long she’d sat there, waiting; but she knew the moment her brother stepped over the threshold. The energy in the breakfast room was at once filled with so much angst the change could be felt instantly.
Bella glanced up from her sketchbook and met her brother’s eyes, directly. “Morning, Elliott,” she said, even though it was already sometime in the afternoon.