Ian was certain he heard the old man’s knees creak as he doddered in. More creaking as he set down the bottle and glasses, then ever so slowly made his way out. How much time had elapsed? Hours? Weeks? Eons?
Well, perhaps he was a bit impatient. Patience had never been one of his virtues. Not that he had any virtues. Rakehells never did. So why were his friends dragging him into a Farthingale problem?
Graelem settled into one of the soft leather chairs while Gabriel grabbed one of the cues and set the balls on the table.
“Care to place a bet?” Ian asked.
Gabriel shook his head. “No. You always win. I prefer better odds when I wager.”
Ian led off, giving his ball a sure, swift strike so that it hit the others with a precise spin. One ball rolled into the left corner pocket. Another caromed off the maroon felt backing and fell into the right corner pocket.
Ian called his next shot, made it, and then walked around the billiards table to face Gabriel. “Out with it. Why did you tell me about Dillie? And when did you two turn into a couple of old women? I’m not getting involved. I won’t meddle in a wedding that may never take place.” He turned to concentrate on his next shot, but struck his ball so hard it almost flew off the table. “Sorry. I’ve had a bad few months. Don’t need more troubles piled on.”
It wasn’t a lie. Ian had recently discovered he had a half-sister, the result of his late father’s illicit affair with “a woman of no consequence,” as his mother had put it.
He might have felt sorry for his mother were she the sweet, caring sort, but she had ice in place of a heart and had never cared for anyone but herself. His father had been little better, a cold and bitter man who’d shown little love toward his family.
A far cry from the boisterous Farthingales, who obviously adored each other.
Ian stifled a sigh. Not long after he’d learned about his sister, she had died while giving birth to a married man’s child. His friends didn’t know about Mary because she had been born on the wrong side of the sheets. Illegitimate. His father’s bastard. A scandal his mother had struggled mightily to quell, but not because she’d loved his father and been hurt by his straying. No. Celestia Markham loved only herself. She thought only of herself and hadn’t wished the image of perfection she’d created in her own mind to be tarnished.
Ian and Mary had never met. Now she was dead, leaving behind a child. He had arranged to provide for Mary’s daughter, just as his father had provided for Mary when he was alive. But seeing Dillie and the way she’d doted on Ivy had convinced him that he needed to do more. Arranging for a proper house and hiring a reputable nanny weren’t nearly enough. The child needed affection, something he was ill equipped to provide.
Yet he couldn’t turn to anyone for help.
Certainly not his family. In her typical twisted fashion, his mother blamed him for his sister’s demise. No surprise there. She managed to blame him for all the ills, real and imagined, that had befallen their family. Two siblings dead now. Both deaths blamed on him. His father was dead, too. All he had was a mother who hated him and an illegitimate six-month-old niece who needed his protection. His mother would surely turn the child against him at every opportunity.
That was it. That was his family.
And his friends wanted him to save Dillie? Chances were, he’d be dragging Dillie into his little acre of hell.
Gabriel shot him a pained grin. “Our wives were hoping you would court her.”
Ian’s breath caught in his throat. He paused a long moment, and then threw his head back and laughed. “You’re jesting. Right? They want her saved, not ruined. She’ll never escape the tarnish if her name is ever associated with mine.”
“She only needs to be courted by you long enough to discourage Ealing. Once he’s out of the way, the plan is to have Dillie break off the courtship. You’ll quietly retire to nurse your wounds and Dillie will be available once again.”
“I can think of a hundred reasons why the plan won’t work.”
Graelem drained his glass of whiskey and poured himself another. “Such as?”
“Everyone knows that I don’t intend to marry, so my intentions toward Dillie will be suspect.” He raked a hand through his hair, wondering why they were even having this discussion. “Everyone knows what I am, so how can my attentions ever be considered honorable?”
Gabriel nodded. “I was never keen on the idea either. That, coupled with your stay in Dillie’s bed last November—”
Graelem shot out of his chair. “What?”
Ian set down his cue and took a step toward Gabriel. “What the hell? Who told you that?”