Page 58 of A Highland Duke to Claim Her Heart

“It is yours,” Christopher interjected. “Technically, and legally.”

“What I will do,” Ewan said, ignoring this, “is give you larger sums of money to cover the true costs of your gambling habits and your creditors. But—” he held his gaze “—I will only do so if you promise to reform. I cannot help you pay these debts if you only turn around and rack up new ones tomorrow. I will need a guarantee from you that you will make better, wiser, more abstemious choices moving forward, so that this does not happen again.”

Christopher swallowed, and for a moment, he looked as if he were going to say something churlish. But instead, he nodded.

“Of course,” he murmured. “I will reform my ways. Of course I will. You are too kind to me, brother. Too generous. I do not deserve it, but I am eternally grateful.”

“You are my brother,” Ewan repeated. “I would not leave you out in the cold. You should have come to me sooner with all of this. There was no need to wait until things escalated.”

“You are right,” Christopher muttered, looking down at the ground. “I will always come to you in the future.”

“There is not going to be a future,” Ewan reminded him.

“Of course. Of course.” Christopher agreed before Ewan had finished speaking.

Ewan paused for a moment before continuing, “And in regards to your livelihood, I believe what has been arranged is perfectly adequate for an unmarried lord such as yourself. If he does not gamble it away, that is. Would you agree?

Christopher hesitated, “Y-yes, I would agree.” He looked down at his hands, then glanced at the scotch behind Ewan. “Why do we not drink to our agreement?”

“I do not think…”

But Christopher ignored him, crossing to the decanter and busying himself pouring two glasses, his back to Ewan. He then returned and handed one to him.

“To new beginnings,” Christopher said, raising his glass high.

“To new beginnings,” Ewan said reluctantly. And he drank.

***

When he woke the next morning, Ewan’s head was pounding and the inside of his mouth felt fuzzy. He was also, he realized, fully clothed. Sunlight was slanting in through the open curtains of his bedchamber, as if he had not closed them the night before, and his feet hurt.

He looked down to see that he was still wearing his boots.

What happened last night?

He could not fully remember.

He remembered drinking with his brother in the study. Vaguely. And then… Had they continued drinking on the terrace? He squinted as he tried to remember.

How much had they had to drink? He did not remember having more than one or two glasses. But surely, it must have been, considering how foggy he felt this morning, how blistering his headache was, and the fact that he could not remember most of the night.

He was slow to get up, although he felt better once he had finally washed his face in the ceramic basin on his dresser and changed into fresh clothes.

Still, he was not feeling fully himself even an hour later, as he sat at the breakfast table, trying to read the morning paper. The words kept trying to rearrange themselves on the page, and the light shining in through the large windows seemed far brighter than usual.

He was just thinking of giving up on his attempt when the door to the breakfast room flew open, and Alaric strode in.

“I have news of a very unsavory nature,” Alaric said, throwing himself into the closest chair and running a hand through his hair. “And I am afraid to say that it involved your brother.”

Ewan, whose stomach was already somewhat queasy, felt himself grow even more nauseated.

“Do not tell me,” he muttered. “His debts are even greater than you suspected. Well, he told me himself yesterday. He actually broke down in the telling, if you can believe it. I had not seen Christopher cry like that in a very long—”

“It is not just the amount of the debts,” Alaric interrupted. He checked over his shoulder, as if to make sure that Christopher was not lurking in the shadows, and then lowered his voice. “It is the men to whom he owes the money.”

“What do you mean?” he asked quickly.

“It is a criminal ring that is operating out of Edinburgh,” Alaric murmured, his voice almost so low now that Ewan had to struggle to hear him. “The Ferguson family.”