Page 21 of A Momentary Marriage

James turned away. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Salstone’s expression shift to a sullen sneer, but he ignored it. He didn’t care if the man hated him. Indeed, he rather enjoyed it. “Well, Walter . . . what brings you down from Oxford this time?”

As Walter began to shift in his seat and hem and haw, Claude asked drily, “Tell me, will it be my turn to be lectured next?”

James gave him a cool look. “Not unless you’ve done something irredeemably foolish. Nor am I about to lecture Walter.” He looked back at the young man. “I was simply curious what rule he’d found to break that he hadn’t already.”

“Oh, well, it wasn’t exactly new. It was just that Ned and I . . . well, you know his brother?” Walter began a convoluted story involving a pig, a don, and an upper-floor room, which James did not try to follow. His head was throbbing and his joints ached, and he worried that his hand might begin to shake in front of the people he would least like to witness that performance.

James wondered how soon he could leave. He had never enjoyed this postdinner ritual, its only advantage being that it meant fewer minutes spent in the company of Adelaide and Patricia. Thank God Cousin Maurice and his mother’s admirer had gone with the women.

“Who’s this fellow dangling after Mother?” he asked abruptly.

“Our future Byron?” Claude snorted.

“I thought his name was Netherly,” Salstone said.

James would have laughed if his head hadn’t been throbbing so. He wasn’t sure which was more amusing, Salstone’s puzzlement or Claude’s pained expression. Too bad Laura wasn’t here; he would have liked to meet her eyes and see the laughter brimming there.

“I think he’s talking about the poet, Archie,” Walter explained.

“Oh. Ha! Never much for poetry myself.”

“Astonishing,” Claude murmured, then said to James, “Surely you’ve met Netherly. He’s one of Mother’s admirers. At least he merely skulks around being moody and ‘interesting.’ It could be worse; Major Bellingham threatened to escort her back from the city.”

“Gad.” James could see that Salstone was working up to say something, but he gave him no encouragement. He knew the sort of subject the man wanted to broach with him.

“I’m glad you returned, James.” Unfortunately, Salstone needed no encouragement.

“Are you?”

“Yes. Benbroke—you know Benbroke, don’t you?” he said in a hearty tone. “Cecil’s cousin.”

“I’ve heard of him.”

“He’s on to something capital. I knew you’d want to hear it. It’s a canal. In Australia. Brilliant idea, but of course one has to act quickly.”

“Archie. Stop. I’m not lending you money.”

“Course not,” Salstone said in a hurt tone. “Wouldn’t think of it. It’s Patricia’s trust I’m talking about.”

“Nor are the trustees giving it to you.”

“Trustees!” Archie snorted. “Hah! The others don’t matter. You’re the one who decides. We all know it.”

“I’m surprised you don’t also know that I won’t allow you to squander the trust’s money on some ridiculous scheme.”

“It’s not ridiculous, I tell you. I’ve looked at it and—”

“I’m not giving you the money.”

“It’s not as if it’s your money!” Salstone’s face darkened with anger. “It belongs to me.”

“It’s for Patricia, not you.”

“Her money is mine.”

“That is precisely the reason Sir Laurence left it in a trust,” James shot back.

“It’s not fair!” The other man jumped to his feet. “Why the hell do you get to control all the money? You aren’t even—” He stopped abruptly.