Sharp Love (Gambling on Love)

by March, Ava

  The butler, clad in a strict black coat, didn’t raise an eyebrow at Will’s appearance at the stately town house’s front door. As soon as Will informed the butler of his name, the man swung the door fully open.

  “His Grace is expecting you, Mr. Drake. He is in his study.”

  It was impossible not to be awed by the entrance hall. The grand chandelier overhead, the polished marble floor, the intricately carved console table and the candlesticks that were surely crafted of solid silver. But Will managed to keep his jaw from dropping, keep his chin up and to at least not stop and gawk, as the butler showed him to a closed door off the hall.

  He was actually going to meet the Duke of Pelham. Yes, he had seen him from across a street, heard his voice, and had made many a not-so-nice comment about him over the years, but even Will could admit to himself that he was more than slightly intimidated. The man was a duke, after all. And the last thing Will wanted was for Jack’s association with him to jeopardize Jack’s position in any way.

  As the butler opened the imposing oak door, Will became aware of an errant thread hanging from one of his coat’s buttons. Taking hold of the thread, he snapped it close to the button. Then unwilling to drop it to the pristine floor, he stuffed the piece of thread into a pocket. Never in his life had he more wished he owned a decent coat.

  “Mr. William Drake.” The butler stepped aside to allow Will to enter the study.

  Clad in an expertly tailored black coat and a waistcoat of palest blue, the duke sat behind a massive desk situated at the opposite end of a study that matched the grandeur of the entrance hall. Wood paneled walls, bookcases spanning from floor to ceiling, gilt-framed landscapes and a well-aged brown leather couch that screamed its owner’s wealth far, far exceeded Will’s savings.

  “Please, have a seat.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  As Will settled in one of the armchairs before the desk, he revised his earlier assessment of the duke. The man likely wasn’t even thirty years of age. Probably around Will’s own six-and-twenty, or even younger. While the duke had a stern, serious look about him, he lacked that hardened, worn air of an older man.

  “Mr. Morgan informs me you are in search of a farm to purchase. I might be able to be of assistance. What are your requirements for a property?”

  “A decent size with good land able to provide a reasonable income and with a house.”

  “By decent, do you mean 100 acres, 1,000 or 10,000? Can you define a reasonable income? And do you have requirements for the house?”

  “If I could find something of around 1,000 acres that could bring in an income of 500 pounds a year, I would be pleased.” Damned ecstatic would be more like it. “Even something closer to 500 acres and half that income would be acceptable.” Prime farmland came at a considerable price, a price he couldn’t afford, what with needing to save some of his principle to invest into the property and hold him over in years of poor yield. Hence his requirement of good land, not prime, and of a decent size versus considerable. “The size of the house isn’t of much importance. A cottage would do.”

  “Any particular area of the country you would prefer?”

  There had been a time when location had mattered not. All that had mattered was the property. Now though? “In Hampshire, if possible.”

  The duke nodded once. “I am assuming you plan to have tenants to assist with the fields.”

  “If the property is large enough to support tenants.”

  Another short nod. “I know of a property which could fit your requirements. It is 1,500 acres, tenants already in place and familiar with the land, and includes a respectable cottage, though the place has been closed up for years. On its own, it will bring in an income of approximately 1,000 pounds per annum. It is currently devoted to wheat and barley, but is suitable for other crops. And it is situated in Hampshire, adjacent to Arrington Park.”

  The various facts of the property, the size and the income and the information on the land, were summarily shoved from Will’s head by the last fact given.

  Arrington Park? That was the duke’s estate, where Jack resided.

  “The only points which might not meet with your approval are the terms,” His Grace continued. “The property is not available for outright sale. It would be available to you as a life interest, at a price of 5,500 pounds. You are familiar with life interests?”

  Will nodded. He had read about them once. After the owner of the life interest passed away, the property could not be willed to another but went back to the original owner. As he did not have a family and had no plans for children of his own, the restrictions of a life interest were of little concern. “Who is the current owner?”

  He somehow knew the answer before it was out of the duke’s mouth.

  “I am. My father purchased it a good ten years ago. It’s not legally part of the family seat, but has been cared for as part of the main estate.”

  “The terms, they are acceptable to me. All of them.”

  He’d be a bloody fool to refuse such an offer. Not only because he had a suspicion the duke was giving him an extraordinarily good deal, but because Jack had arranged the deal.

  Will gave his heart free rein to leap out of his damned chest. To hope, to believe the future he had always longed for, always dreamed of, could actually be within his grasp.

  “Excellent.” The edges of the duke’s lips curved in a hint of a smile. “Do you plan to reside in London for a time or immediately relocate to Hampshire?”

  “Relocate immediately.”

  “There is an inn in the village near Arrington Park. I will have my solicitors draw up papers and have them delivered there tomorrow to your attention. Take as much time as you need to review them. If you need to seek legal advice, I can recommend the names of several reputable firms in London. There is also an attorney by the name of Mr. Westfield who resides in the village who is capable of reviewing such documents. And if you wish to survey the property before signing, that can be arranged as well.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace. And if I may be so bold as to ask...why? Why are you willing to sell to me?” The why behind Jack’s part in this appointment...that Will had already deduced. But the reason behind the duke’s willingness to do such a thing for a man he had never laid eyes on? That Will could not figure out.

  His Grace held Will’s gaze. “You are a good friend of Mr. Morgan’s. He is a very valued and loyal employee, and I do not wish to take the risk of losing him.”

  “He is a very valued friend as well.”

  The duke knew. How, Will could not begin to fathom. Surely Jack would not have let on. Perhaps simply by asking for the favor Jack had tipped his hand. In any case, the duke knew he and Jack were far more than friends. And more than that, the duke approved. Approved so much he was willing to help Jack keep his lover near, so as not to risk losing his very valued employee.

  Perhaps His Grace wasn’t a condescending, self-centered arse of an aristocrat, like most of his ilk. Perhaps Jack had good cause to hold the man in such high esteem.

  All right. It wasn’t merely perhaps. Jack did have good cause.

  “I’ll have the papers delivered to Clausen’s Inn on the morrow.”

  “Thank you. Sincerely. If I could ever be of assistance to you, you need only to ask.” Will got to his feet. “Good day, Your Grace.”

  As Will walked out the front door, he allowed the grin he’d managed to keep in check to spread across his lips.

  Jack loved him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Will shut the front door of his new home behind him and stepped out into the late October sun. The last few days had been hectic and exhilarating, and that was putting it mildly. But all the sheets were finally off the furniture, the dust swept from the floors and the windows opened to chase the stale scent from the air. His pantry was stocked, cupboards filled with dishes and glassware and pots and pans, his few books placed on shelves, and his closet and drawers were slowly filling. An in
quiry had led him to a tailor’s shop in the next village over—wouldn’t do to only have one coat in the country—and he had commissioned a small wardrobe from the pleasant older fellow. He’d delivered the signed contract and the necessary sum to His Grace, inspected as much of his new land as had been practical on foot, and had begun discussions with the—now his—tenants about plans for the spring planting season.

  His future was in place. Everything signed and settled.

  Almost everything.

  Will crossed a dirt lane and set off across a grassy field. When he had returned from his appointment with the duke, he had found Jack busy with preparations for the journey—discussing with the grooms the best way to get the duke’s stallion back to Hampshire and adjusting harnesses on the team of six. Jack had caught his gaze but hadn’t said a word, hadn’t taken a step away from his duties. So Will had merely told Jack he would see him in Hampshire and gathered his few belongings from Jack’s room. That had been the last he had seen of Jack.

  Today though, he would remedy that, and hopefully by nightfall, the last piece of his new life would be in place. Saving the best for last and all.

  Well, that’s what he had told himself. In actuality...

  He knew Jack loved him. A man didn’t risk his neck and his position for another for nothing. Jack wanted him safe, happy and near. Will could only hope Jack wanted him near for a specific reason.

  And today, he hoped to pull that specific reason out of Jack.

  The sun was high in the sky when Will turned down the gravel lane that led to Arrington Park. He bypassed the sprawling manor house and continued around to the stables he had seen from the study’s window when he’d last paid the duke a call. Two men on horseback crested a nearby hill then pulled their horses to a stop at the open doors of the stables and dismounted. A couple of grooms materialized to take the beasts into the stables.

  As Will came upon the two men, he tipped his head in greeting. “Good afternoon, Your Grace. Good afternoon, Mr. Walsh.”

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Drake,” Mr. Walsh replied, cheeks pinked from the crisp country air, eyes bright and ginger-blond hair tousled from the wind. He didn’t appear at all surprised to see Will at the estate. “Come to pay a call on Mr. Morgan?”

  Beautiful, a tad temperamental and perceptive. Will would hazard a guess Mr. Walsh kept the duke on his toes.

  “Yes, but just a short call. Wouldn’t want to pull him from his duties.”

  “He does take his duties quite seriously.” The young man threw his lover a playful scowl.

  “For which I am grateful.” The duke’s attention was stuck to Mr. Walsh, as if the man had no desire to look at anything else in the world except him.

  Even though they were clearly trying not to be too obvious about it, Will could see the affection, the love between the two men, the comfort they had in each other’s presence. And the happiness that poured off them fed the hope in Will’s heart.

  “As am I grateful as well.” There had been a time when Will had resented Jack’s dedication to his duties, resented how it pulled Jack away from him. But that dedication was a part of who Jack was—honorable, dedicated, and willing to do anything to ensure the happiness of the man he loved. “I won’t keep you. Good day to you both.”

  A tip of the head, and Will proceeded through the open double doors. Once inside, he paused to allow his eyes to adjust from the brightness outside to the relative shadows of the stables. In terms of neatness and abundance of polished brass bars and rich wood stalls, the place was similar to the carriage house in Mayfair except on a larger scale. The stables had to house a good forty horses, each one a prime example of their species.

  He was just about to inquire with a groom as to Jack’s whereabouts when a tall figure emerged from a stall near the end of the aisle. Wouldn’t do to run, but Will did allow his strides to quicken a bit.

  After sliding the latch shut on the door, Jack reached down for a bucket then turned as if to walk away.

  “Jack,” he called.

  Jack went still. A pause, then he turned toward Will. “Good afternoon, Mr. Drake.”

  Will fought the urge to flinch. Mr. Drake? And in such an impersonal tone?

  “Morgan, should I put Rutger in the west paddock or leave him in his stall?”

  Hell and damnation. How had he forgotten? Should have addressed Jack as Morgan while in the stables. No wonder Jack appeared so stiff. He’d take such a slip by Will as a glaring sign to all that they were significantly more than friends.

  “The west paddock,” Jack said to the wiry groom who had come up from somewhere behind Will. “The ride surely did him good, but Rutger’s still ornery over being cooped up in a stall during his stay in London.”

  Once the sound of the groom’s footsteps faded, Will said, “My apologies. Forgot myself for a moment. Won’t happen again.”

  Jack gave him a single nod.

  Will took a step closer, but not so close as to cause Jack to go all stiff again. “It’s all right, Jack. Close friends sometimes refer to each other by their Christian name. It’s not unusual enough on its own to rouse suspicion.”

  “It’s not that. Well, not only that. You startled me. Wasn’t expecting you.”

  “Why weren’t you expecting me?”

  Jack dropped his attention to the bucket in his hand. “Haven’t seen you since we left London.”

  “Was that deliberate on your part?”

  “No. You said you would see me in Hampshire.” Jack shrugged, an uncomfortable lift of his massive shoulders. “I was waiting for you.”

  Hell. “I’m sorry I haven’t stopped by in the past few days, but I thought you understood I’d be rather occupied.” Though clearly, Jack had not made that connection.

  Black lashes lifted and dark brown eyes met his.

  “I’m sorry,” Will repeated, lowering his voice. “I wasn’t avoiding you. Had a house to open and a property to inspect and...” None of that really mattered. What mattered was that he’d inadvertently hurt Jack. “I came by to extend an invitation for supper.”

  “You’ve already hired servants?”

  “No. The house is more a cottage, and it’s only me there. I can see after myself.” No need to pay someone to do what he could manage himself.

  “Then you cook?”

  “Not very well yet, but it’s edible. So supper...yes or no?”

  “Yes, of course, Will.”

  There was no of course about it. The certainty Will had felt had fled the moment Jack had gone stiff. And even though Jack was no longer as tense as he’d been a couple minutes ago, there was no denying the man was not at his ease. “I’m assuming you know the location of my new house?”

  “Yes.”

  “Excellent. I should be on my way. I don’t want to keep you from your duties, and I need to trek back to the house so I can begin honing my culinary skills.”

  “You came on foot?” Jack frowned. “You haven’t purchased a horse yet? If you need assistance in that regard, you need only to ask.”

  “I don’t know anything about horses, much less how to ride or care for one.” In all the years he’d lived in London, he had never had cause or the means to learn. “Neither the village nor Arrington Park is that far from the house, and I have two capable legs.”

  “Winter’s approaching and the village is over two miles from your property. The country isn’t like London. There are no hackney cabs. You really should consider purchasing a horse, and I can teach you how to ride.”

  “You’d teach me how to ride, Jack?” he asked, arching a brow, unable to resist the opportunity to tease him.

  Jack’s expression went blank, though heat touched his cheeks. Then he gave his head a shake. “A horse, Will. I can teach you how to ride a horse, and also how to drive a cart.”

  “Having a gig could prove useful.” He’d had to pay the shops in the village to deliver most of his purchases, and with a horse, he could properly survey his new property. “And there
’s a small stable behind the house.” It was tiny in comparison to the duke’s stables, but it had a few stalls and was in decent condition. “All right. You may teach me all you know about horses and riding and driving.”

  “Tadley is about eight miles from here and holds a livestock fair on the first Saturday of every month. Should be able to find something suitable there. What time should I arrive for supper this evening?”

  “Would six be acceptable? I don’t want to pull you from your duties.”

  “Six is fine. I won’t be needed this evening. Mr. Walsh rode his own horse over this morning, and one of the grooms can fetch it for him if he decides to return home tonight.”

  Will had heard during his visits to the village that Mr. Walsh had acquired a respectable house in the area. Given the old boardinghouse the young man had resided in during his recent stay in London, Will couldn’t help but assume the duke had a hand in the purchase. “Your employer is a very generous man.”

  “Yes, he is,” Jack said slowly, as if he didn’t quite understand what had prompted the comment from Will.

  “I was wrong about him, by the way. He’s not a damned haughty aristocrat.”

  “Changed your opinion, have you?”

  “Yes, I have. Now I really should be on my way. Good day, Mr. Morgan.”

  Jack glanced over Will’s shoulder then lowered his head. “The mister isn’t necessary.”

  “Perhaps, but I think I like it.” As Will turned on his heel, he heard Jack’s sigh backed by a touch of a chuckle.

  * * *

  Jack lifted his arm and knocked on the front door. The last rays of the sun had slipped from the sky during his walk across the fields, yet he had ridden by the property over the years and knew the evening darkness blanketed a quaint cottage built of gray stone with a slate roof. The type of home that dotted the English countryside. And a home that was now Will’s.

  It gave him a significant measure of relief to know Will was no longer living alone in that small, bare room in a very questionable part of Town. Yet relief was not the feeling that had a hold on his gut at the moment.

  The sound of footsteps approached and the door opened.