“Hope you still have a barstool for reprobates like me.”

“Always.”

“My mother, may she rest in more peace than she had in this world, would not be proud of me.”

“Then make her proud. Change your life.”

“Easier said than done.”

“It’s never too late to turn things around. Take my friend, Ash Prince, for example. I’ve never seen a man more besotted by his bride. Once they decided they loved each other instead of hated each other, all bets were off. I never thought I’d say this, but that kind of wedded bliss looks rather delightful.”

West nearly spilled his ale. “You believe in that true love nonsense? You sound like my sisters’ music teacher, Miss Beaton.”

“I didn’t until I witnessed it with my own eyes. Ash is a different man now. A better one. This Miss Beaton, I think I’ve met her,” Jax remarked. “Petite little thing? Friends with Lady Henrietta Prince, Ash’s wife?”

“She may be pint-sized, but she’s got an indomitable will, that one. She marched into my bedchamber at an ungodly hour this morning, ripped open my curtains, and ordered me about in no uncertain terms.”

“Sure you didn’t like it?”

“She did look rather devastating in the morning light. All flushed cheeks, dancing green eyes, and adorable dimples.”

“Did you just say ‘adorable dimples’?” Jax scoffed. “Maybe there’s another reason you’re not sad about losing that wealthy American fiancée.”

“I can’t afford a love match, Jax.” Not that he was in love. Or would ever fall in love.

West pulled a crumpled handful of the bills that Bowditch had presented him with out of his coat pocket and piled them on the scarred wooden bar top. “My financial state is more desperate than I’d imagined.”

“How bad is it?”

“Dismally bad.”

“Sell off some more antiquities and stave off ruination bad?”

“Worse than that.” The news Bowditch had given him had staggered him. He’d been allowing himself to think that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have to commit to a marriage of convenience.

He’d been thinking about laughing green eyes and lush lips since the moment he awoke.

But now . . . “My man of business informed me that Westbury Abbey, the family estate near Watford, is literally crumbling into the earth. The estate is in such disrepair that most of the tenants have been forced to relocate. I thought that my father’s brother, my uncle, was living there and seeing to the repairs, but he’s been traveling abroad for years and I never even knew about it. I’ve been a terrible landlord, Jax. I have to do something about it. I have to sell myself to another heiress forthwith. And that’s easier said than done. No respectable lady wants anything to do with me.”

“Ah.” Jax sipped some gin. “Hence the reform campaign.”