“Father was always remarkably good at spending other people’s money,” Peter finally said, a note of wry apology in his voice. “He had no right to give me the Henley Street residence. Didn’t you pay for that, Quill?”

Quill shrugged. “I have no need of it.”

“I daresay Jennings is right and Thurlow would have crossed out that codicil had he lived,” Lady Sylvia commented. “I don’t like the fact that he put in that comment about you working for a living, Erskine. Smacks of hypocrisy. Everyone knows that money flowed through Thurlow’s hands and that he was liable to find himself on queer street until you became so flush.”

“He did not consult me,” Kitty said, “or I would have told him that darling Erskine has always shared what he has with his brother. Even when they were little boys.” She sniffed disconsolately.

“I apologize for him,” Peter said with some dignity. “Father should not have slighted your endeavors, Quill. And he need not have instructed you to aid me.”

At that, Quill smiled wryly. “I’m not taking it to heart. Besides, Father was right in his own way. I have a vulgar habit of making money, and I refused to reform when he asked me to. That is what really bothered him. Why shouldn’t I give it to you? I don’t need it.”

“Thurlow gave Peter a very generous settlement,” Lady Sylvia snapped. “He can live nicely on the rents of the Henley Street properties alone, regardless of his life interest in the Kent estate. You’ll be handing that money to your own children, Erskine.”

Quill visibly started and flashed a look at his wife. Gabby smiled at him. She hadn’t said a word during the entire proceeding, so it was no wonder he forgot her existence. Let alone that of their unborn children.

“Well, we got through that pretty well,” Lady Sylvia was saying, gathering up her flimsy reticule and a fluttering black handkerchief, clearly designed for show rather than for use. “Thank goodness Thurlow didn’t indulge himself in too much advice. Why, I heard that the Marquess of Granby went so far as to write in his will that his nephew’s escapades with his mistress were ludicrous and that’s why Granby was leaving the nephew only three thousand pounds per annum. And this was read aloud in front of the nephew’s wife, mind you.”

Quill didn’t move from where he stood. Gabby had risen and was helping his mother to do the same.

He stared at the burnished gleam of his wife’s hair. His mind was chaotic with images of Gabby holding a small child. He, Quill, had been alarmingly stupid. He had paid no mind to the future. After his accident, he had mentally excised the possibility of a wife and children. What woman would marry him, given his injuries? And yet…he had enticed one to do so.