"Thorne," he repeated. "I thought he had given up. I thought... I told him I would pay him when I could. I told him—"
"You told him the truth, and he did not believe you because you have spent years lying to everyone else." Georgiana's voice was sharp, but not with anger—with fear. "Is the debt real?"
"Yes."
"Did you sign a promissory note?"
"I signed something. I was drunk. I don't remember the details, but I remember the amount: 8,000 pounds." Sebastian leaned against the stable wall, his eyes closed. "I thought if I could just get married, access the trust, pay off the most pressing debts... I thought Thorne would wait. He has always been patient."
"He has run out of patience, and now we have 8,000 pounds we do not have, or your sisters lose their brother to prison."
Georgiana took a breath. "There is only one thing to do."
Sebastian opened his eyes.
"Apollo."
"Apollo is worth £8,000, perhaps more. If we sell him—"
"No."
"Sebastian—"
"I said no." He pushed off from the wall, and for a moment he looked like the reckless man she had met in the library: wild-eyed, desperate, clinging to the last shred of his old life. "There has to be another way. I can borrow from my father. I can—"
"Your father has not spoken to you in 2 years. He will not lend you money for a debt incurred in an illegal gaming hell."
"Then I will sell something else. The land, the house."
"The house is entailed. You cannot sell it. The land is mortgaged to the hilt."
Georgiana stepped toward him, close enough to see the tears standing in his eyes. "You know what you have to do. You have known from the moment I told you Thorne was here."
Sebastian turned away. He put his hand on Apollo's neck, and the great black horse leaned into the touch, nuzzling his shoulder. "My father gave him to me," he whispered.
"I know."
"I have lost everything else. My reputation, my fortune, my father's respect. But I have not lost him."
"You have not lost anything yet," Georgiana said. "Pero you will lose your freedom, and your sisters' futures, and the life we are trying to build. You will lose all of that if you cannot pay Thorne. And you cannot pay Thorne without selling this horse."
Sebastian's hand trembled on Apollo's neck. He stood there for a long time, his head bowed, and Georgiana stood with him. She did not speak. She did not touch him. She simply waited.
At last he raised his head. "Write to the breeders," he said. "Find me a buyer."
He walked out of the stable without looking back.
The auction was held 3 days later. Apollo sold for 9,000 pounds, more than he was worth, because the buyers could smell desperation, and Sebastian had learned in his years of gambling how to turn desperation into profit. 9,000 pounds: eight to Thorne, one to keep.
Sebastian paid Thorne in cash in front of witnesses and watched as the man counted every bill with greedy fingers. Thorne smiled and wished him happy. Sebastian did not respond.
He came home to Rosewick Park on a cold December evening and found Georgiana in the library reading to the girls. Charlotte was curled on the sofa, half asleep. Beatrice sat straight-backed in a chair, pretending not to be interested in the story.
Georgiana looked up when he entered. Her eyes met his, and she smiled—a small, tired, genuine smile. "You are home," she said.
"I am home."
The girls went to bed. Georgiana poured them both a glass of wine, the last of the Madeira, and they sat by the fire in the library, two practical people who had somehow built something more than a contract.
"I thought I would feel empty," Sebastian said quietly, "after selling him. I thought I would feel like I had cut off my own arm."
"And how do you feel?"
"Lighter." He turned the glass in his hands. "I spent eight years running from the man my father wanted me to be. I told myself I was running toward freedom, but I was just running in circles. Apollo was the last tether to that old life. And now..."
"...He is gone."