VIscount Besieged by Elizabeth Bailey

coughed with mock-delicacy. ‘Speaking of your
father…’
    Roborough held
up a hand. ‘Excuse me on that head, if you please.’
    The other man
frowned. ‘All very well, Roborough, for you to be so nice, but I
must speak of him.’
    ‘ Pray
don’t. In fact, there is no need to discuss the matter at all. I
have all the facts as you gave them in your letter, and there was
really no necessity for this journey. Did you suppose I should not
pay you?’
    Syderstone
spread his hands. ‘My dear fellow, perish the thought. My fear is
rather than you cannot pay me.’
    The viscount
fought down his instant ire. Damn the man. Of course, he was right.
Where was he to find the half of such a sum in the wasted
inheritance into which he had fallen? But that did not mean that
his creditors should come hounding him in this way.
    ‘ Not
at the present moment, no,’ he conceded frankly.
    ‘ I
thought not.’ Syderstone suddenly beamed at him. ‘Then I heard of
your second inheritance.’
    ‘ Did
you indeed?’
    ‘ I
did, my dear fellow. And I thought, how excellent well young
Roborough has done for himself. He will not, I feel sure, fail to
remember his obligations. And you see, I was right.’
    ‘ If
you mean that you supposed I should sell this estate merely to pay
off a debt to you, Syderstone, then you are wide of the mark. I
have other calls on my purse to consider besides yours.’
    The visitor’s
urbanity did not desert him. He smiled. ‘But none, I would guess,
quite as immediately heavy.’
    His guess was
accurate. But that made it no more acceptable.
    ‘ It
comes to something when a man may be dunned in his own
home!’
    ‘ Dunned? My dear fellow, you entirely mistake me. There is a
difference, I protest, between dunning and looking to one’s
interests.’ His quick eyes glanced about the library. ‘Is not that
just what you are doing? Or am I again mistaken?’
    No, he was not
mistaken, damn his eyes. Unless one could claim that the interests
of all one’s dependants marched with one’s own, Roborough thought
as another knock on the door signalled the arrival of the burgundy
from Alvescot’s cellars.
    As he poured the
liquor and handed a glass to his unwanted guest, he was aware of a
greater intensity of emotion bottled up inside him than he had
thought existed. True, there was reason enough for resentment. But
in speaking of the matter this morning to Thornbury he had not been
nearly as conscious of it. Then again Thornbury, besides having the
lawyer’s logical mentality, was a man of enormous common sense. He
had readily understood the pressing need to sell the Alvescot
inheritance.
    ‘ But
was there nothing left at all, my lord?’ he had asked, a measure of
sympathetic concern in his voice that had warmed Roborough to the
heart. He found himself confiding far more of the situation than he
had intended.
    He
shook his head. ‘The estate has been squeezed dry.’
    ‘ Could no one have stopped it? Had your father no
advisers?’
    A harsh laugh escaped his lips. ‘As if he would have
listened to them! Our own man of business tried, I tried. I even
called upon my uncle who is now my heir. But it was as if my father
were possessed of some incurable disease.’
    There was little
point in wrapping the matter up in clean linen, he thought. He
might just as well reveal the true sordid facts of the case.
Thornbury had probably guessed it, in any event.
    He drew a breath
and met the lawyer’s eyes. ‘This is to go no further,
Thornbury.’
    ‘ You
may rely on me, my lord.’
    On the whole, he
thought now, the lawyer had taken the news well. It was not easy
being obliged to tell the dire truth of one’s father’s activities
to an outsider. But he had realised that if Thornbury was to
appreciate his position he had no real choice, unless to be thought
an outright rogue himself.
    They had
discussed alternatives, but at length Thornbury agreed that there
really was no other way.
    ‘ If I
am to provide for this