Read Online Because You're Mine by Lisa Kleypas - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lisa Kleypas
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gaze lingering on the overloaded desk. “I wonder that you haven't gone mad by now, spending so much time in that dusty corner.”
“I enjoy working.” Logan leaned back and propped his feet on the edge of his desk, resting his hands on his flat midriff.
“‘Enjoy’ and ‘work’ don't belong in the same sentence, Jimmy.” Andrew watched his face and smiled as he saw the flicker of reaction in Logan's eyes. “You don't like it when I call you that, do you? I assure you, I don't intend it as an insult. I admire what you've done, turning yourself from humble Jimmy Jennings into the great Logan Scott. When we were boys, I always supposed that you would marry some local dairymaid or shopgirl, and become a farmer like your father. Or perhaps you would have come to London and worked as a clerk for some piddling merchant. Instead you're one of the richest self-made men in England, with beautiful women twitching their skirts to gain your attention, and dinner invitations from the Duke of Wellington. Sometimes I feel as if I'm the only one who remembers who you really are.”
“You're not,” Logan said. Even if he had been able to forget his own humble beginnings, there were many who never passed up a chance to remind him. No upstart, no matter how talented or wealthy, could ever break into their exclusive circles. Certainly he was fit to entertain them, but not to move among them as an equal. He would never be allowed to marry their daughters and mix his red blood with blue.
“Why are you here, Andrew?” he asked. “Have you come to reminisce about the past, or is there something you want?”
Seeming annoyed by Logan's bluntness, Andrew shrugged. “All right, if you insist on going to the point…I'm in a pickle.”
“You've been gambling.”
“Of course I have. What else is there to do with my bloody time?” Andrew exploded in frustration, his face reddening. “For the last two weeks I've spent nearly every night at the club, and I've been pigeoned out of every shilling I have. Every time I thought my luck would turn, it got worse. Now the news is all over London. I'm denied credit at every turn, and a pair of brutes from the club are following me wherever I go. I can't seem to give them the brush, and they're threatening to break my legs unless I come up with the money I owe. God help me, I actually think they'll do it.”
“Have you gone to your father?”
Andrew made a sound of disgust. “Bugger the old man, he won't give me a shilling above the paltry sum he calls my allowance. He could repay my debts a hundred times over!”
“I believe that's what he's afraid of,” Logan said dryly. “How large is the debt this time? Four thousand? Five?”
Andrew picked idly at the sleeve of his green wool coat. “Ten,” he mumbled.
The amount was enough to stun Logan into silence. Ten thousand pounds was a fortune, enough to keep dozens of families comfortably for I a year, enough to mount several spectacular productions at the Capital. He knew why the Earl of Rochester wouldn't pay off his son's debt, no matter how great the threat to his safety. If Andrew didn't change his habits, he would run through the family fortune immediately after assuming the title.
“I need the money,” Andrew said. For the first time there was a thread of desperation in his tone. “Everyone knows what a wealthy bastard you are. You can afford to loan me ten thousand. You know you'll get it back someday with interest.”
“Will I?” Logan asked sardonically, rummaging through his desk. He began to write a bank draft. “This will be the last time, Andrew. I'm not inclined to pour more down a bottomless well.”
Andrew peered over his shoulder and made a grudging sound of thanks. “I knew you wouldn't refuse me. It must give you satisfaction to know how my father would react if he knew.”
A rueful smile touched Logan's lips as he finished the draft. “It does, actually.” He extended the bank draft toward Andrew,
“I enjoy working.” Logan leaned back and propped his feet on the edge of his desk, resting his hands on his flat midriff.
“‘Enjoy’ and ‘work’ don't belong in the same sentence, Jimmy.” Andrew watched his face and smiled as he saw the flicker of reaction in Logan's eyes. “You don't like it when I call you that, do you? I assure you, I don't intend it as an insult. I admire what you've done, turning yourself from humble Jimmy Jennings into the great Logan Scott. When we were boys, I always supposed that you would marry some local dairymaid or shopgirl, and become a farmer like your father. Or perhaps you would have come to London and worked as a clerk for some piddling merchant. Instead you're one of the richest self-made men in England, with beautiful women twitching their skirts to gain your attention, and dinner invitations from the Duke of Wellington. Sometimes I feel as if I'm the only one who remembers who you really are.”
“You're not,” Logan said. Even if he had been able to forget his own humble beginnings, there were many who never passed up a chance to remind him. No upstart, no matter how talented or wealthy, could ever break into their exclusive circles. Certainly he was fit to entertain them, but not to move among them as an equal. He would never be allowed to marry their daughters and mix his red blood with blue.
“Why are you here, Andrew?” he asked. “Have you come to reminisce about the past, or is there something you want?”
Seeming annoyed by Logan's bluntness, Andrew shrugged. “All right, if you insist on going to the point…I'm in a pickle.”
“You've been gambling.”
“Of course I have. What else is there to do with my bloody time?” Andrew exploded in frustration, his face reddening. “For the last two weeks I've spent nearly every night at the club, and I've been pigeoned out of every shilling I have. Every time I thought my luck would turn, it got worse. Now the news is all over London. I'm denied credit at every turn, and a pair of brutes from the club are following me wherever I go. I can't seem to give them the brush, and they're threatening to break my legs unless I come up with the money I owe. God help me, I actually think they'll do it.”
“Have you gone to your father?”
Andrew made a sound of disgust. “Bugger the old man, he won't give me a shilling above the paltry sum he calls my allowance. He could repay my debts a hundred times over!”
“I believe that's what he's afraid of,” Logan said dryly. “How large is the debt this time? Four thousand? Five?”
Andrew picked idly at the sleeve of his green wool coat. “Ten,” he mumbled.
The amount was enough to stun Logan into silence. Ten thousand pounds was a fortune, enough to keep dozens of families comfortably for I a year, enough to mount several spectacular productions at the Capital. He knew why the Earl of Rochester wouldn't pay off his son's debt, no matter how great the threat to his safety. If Andrew didn't change his habits, he would run through the family fortune immediately after assuming the title.
“I need the money,” Andrew said. For the first time there was a thread of desperation in his tone. “Everyone knows what a wealthy bastard you are. You can afford to loan me ten thousand. You know you'll get it back someday with interest.”
“Will I?” Logan asked sardonically, rummaging through his desk. He began to write a bank draft. “This will be the last time, Andrew. I'm not inclined to pour more down a bottomless well.”
Andrew peered over his shoulder and made a grudging sound of thanks. “I knew you wouldn't refuse me. It must give you satisfaction to know how my father would react if he knew.”
A rueful smile touched Logan's lips as he finished the draft. “It does, actually.” He extended the bank draft toward Andrew,
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