After a moment, he sighed. There was nothing for it but a direct attack. “Well? What’s wrong with you?”

Stephen stiffened. “Nothing is wrong with me.”

“Nonsense. I’m usually unaware of people’s feelings and such, but even I can tell you’re suffering from the doldrums.”

Stephen flushed. “There’s nothing—I don’t—you wouldn’t understand.”

Chase eyed the book with a gloomy gaze. If things had worked out his way, no one would have been in the library and Chase would even now be paging through the book, looking for just the right sailing yarn to spring on Lady Cabot-Wells.

“It’s a woman,” Stephen blurted out.

“Of course it’s a woman.”

Stephen sent him a sharp glance. “What do you mean ‘of course.’”

“What else would send a man into a full-thrown gloom in the middle of the day? Has to be a woman.”

“I suppose,” Stephen said without enthusiasm. He stared down at his hands, his bottom lip softened and then quivered ever so slightly.

Chase watched, horrified that the young man might actually burst into tears. “Here, now! See what brandy will do to you?” He sent the book one last regretful glance, then took a chair near where Stephen stood, shoulders slumped. “Tell me about this paragon of yours.”

“Tell you?” Stephen’s bitter laugh grated along Chase’s nerves. “I can’t believe this! You, who can barely set a fence rail, are offering me advice. By gad, that’s rich.”

Chase managed a grin. “Trust me on this; if there is one thing I do know, it’s how to deal with the fair sex.”

“You forget that I’ve seen you with Harriet.”

Chase’s grin disappeared. “Your sister is not an ordinary woman. She’s—” Stubborn. Intractable. Condescending when she had no right to be. And intolerably prideful. All told, Harriet Ward was impossibly argumentative. Chase caught Stephen’s questioning gaze. “Your sister drives me mad.”

A faint smile touched Stephen’s mouth, softening his haggard look. “She has that effect on all of us. Father used to say she had an iron spine and, when disgruntled, could freeze the pond with a single look.”

“Your father was a very wise man.”

Stephen looked at the worn carpet beneath his feet and grimaced. “About some things. Had he had a better head on his shoulders, we wouldn’t be scrambling to make this payment.”

“We all have our shortcomings.”

Stephen’s gaze met his, hard and unflinching. “What are your shortcomings, then?”

The insolent tone in his voice sent a hot rejoinder flying to Chase’s lips. He wasn’t used to being spoken to in such a summary fashion. Especially not by a whelp who was still wet behind the ears. But just as he opened his mouth to send a sharply worded retort, he caught a glimpse of pain in Stephen’s gaze.

Somewhere in the back of Chase’s mind, a faint memory began to hum. He’d been fifteen, a few years younger than Stephen, and hopelessly, relentlessly in “love” with the divine Miss Leticia Over-hill, a plump beauty with flaxen hair and blue eyes and the most ravishing dimples.