By the time their hack rolled to a stop in front of his parents’ townhouse, Anthony was a jumble of nervous anticipation. Not because he didn’t know how his parents would react to his unexpected arrival. But because he knew all too well.

His parents’ world revolved around money. When they had extra, they were buoyant and gay. But when they were in arrears… Anthony swallowed. He did his best to keep his family afloat.

From the moment he’d first sneaked into a gaming den at the age of fourteen, he had done his best to come home with his pockets heavy with gold. Despite his spendthrift proclivities, he was the closest to reliable breadwinner they’d ever had. His parents were too focused on blending with the ton.

This time, he had brought an even bigger surprise. Something far more lasting than a mere gaming purse. Today he would present them with a daughter-in-law.

Anthony’s chest tightened. His mother would not be pleased at the prospect of one more mouth to feed. Providing for a wife would have an impact on his ability to provide for his parents.

His mother and father had to realize that, at some point, their son would take a wife… but they undoubtedly did not expect such a change to be imminent.

Neither had Anthony.

But although the timing was less than ideal and his pocketbook had never been poorer, Charlotte herself was worth more than gold.

He swung his wife out of the hack and on to the short pathway leading up to the front door. After flipping the jarvey an extra farthing to follow with the trunks, he took her hand and marched up to bang the brass knocker. His entire body was giddy with energy.

For a long moment, nothing happened.

He straightened his waistcoat. Nothing happened. He adjusted his cravat. Still no answer. Charlotte’s blue eyes were fixed on the door, her cheeks pale with trepidation. He frowned and banged the knocker anew. His elation dimmed.

Even if his parents were not at home, certainly a servant would answer the door. Unless, of course, his parents had once again run out of coin to pay the staff. He rubbed his temples.

The difference between his parents with money and his parents without money… He checked his pocket watch. It was after ten. Perhaps he and Charlotte should reserve an inn for the night and call another day.

The door cracked open. Moonlight lit a sliver of his mother’s nervous countenance. She flung the door open wide.

He sketched a bow. “Good evening, Mother. Miss me?”

“Anthony,” she squealed. She grabbed his lapels and kissed both his cheeks. “You are just in time.”

“Supper?” he asked, incredulous. “At this late hour?”

“What? No. There was barely enough roast duck for your father and I to share. Not to mention that it was half burned.” She fanned her throat. “You’re just in time to pay the maid-of-all-work. Scroggs is the only one we have left. She cooks a terrible duck, but you know how doing work of any kind ruins my fingernails. She’s in the kitchen now. I told her she wasn’t to come out until she’d scrubbed every speck of black off those pots, and only then would we discuss her salary. Thank goodness you have arrived, so as not to make a liar of me!”

Poor Scroggs. Anthony’s shoulders tensed under the weight of his responsibilities. His parents needed his ready money. They always did. But how could he rescue them when he couldn’t even save himself?

“Can we discuss overdue wages once we’ve come inside, Mother?” He slid his arm around Charlotte’s waist and pulled her closer. “I’ve someone I would like you to meet.”

“Oh!” his mother gasped. “I am mortified. Discussing finances in front of an audience is unforgivably vulgar. Come in, child. Enter.” She turned her head toward the kitchen. “Scroggs! We have guests!” She turned back to Anthony with hopeful eyes. “That maid is dreadfully overworked. Might we employ a butler?”

Embarrassed, he pulled Charlotte and their traveling trunks into the townhouse and shut the door firmly behind them. “Charlotte, this is my mother, Mrs. Margaret Fairfax. Mother, I’d like you to meet my wife, Mrs. Charlotte Fairfax.”

“Your what?” his mother screeched in horror. “Anthony, how could you? You know how much I love a wedding. Your sister was such a disappointment in that regard, what with having a private ceremony in the Duke of Ravenwood’s London estate and not even inviting us—I shall never forgive her—and you’ve gone and done the same. Can’t you try to be thoughtful?”

“See?” he told Charlotte with a wry face. “To my mother, a private wedding being held at a ducal estate is far more scandalous than the reason for the secrecy. My sister was eight months pregnant at the time.”

“Closer to nine, I should think,” his mother mused as she led them toward the sitting room. “The twins came right after.” She sent a horrified glance toward Charlotte’s midsection. “She’s not—You didn’t—”

“No, no,” he assured her. His sins were many, but they were always crimes against himself. His mother need not have worried. “Any grandchildren will arrive well after the requisite nine-month mark. Where’s Father? I would like to present Charlotte to him, too.”

“At his club, I’m afraid.” His mother gave a long-suffering sigh. “I wish he wouldn’t drink so. Anthony, if you could dash over tomorrow perhaps, and settle your father’s account at White’s, he would be ever so grateful. He has precious little credit left.”

“Mother…” He eased onto the sofa and pulled Charlotte down beside him. “Listen to me. I’m afraid I’m well into dun territory, myself, and have little coin to spare.”

His mother perched on the edge of a chaise longue opposite them and waved his words away. “Who isn’t stretched thin these days? You should see the lengthy accounts I accumulate just by keeping properly attired for the Season. I had to switch modistes to order new gowns just so I could start a new account! You cannot imagine the humiliation.”

Guilt squeezed Anthony’s chest. He leaned forward, his voice urgent. He had to make her understand. “Mother, please hear me. I’m all to pieces. Up the River Tick. Knocked into horse-nails. Empty pockets, Mother. I haven’t a spare ha’penny. If I don’t pay my creditors within a week, I’ll spend the rest of my life in Marshalsea. The situation is deadly serious. Do you understand?”

She blinked, cast a sidelong glance at Charlotte, then fixed him with a wounded look. “If that excuse were remotely true, mightn’t you think it an inopportune moment to take on the responsibility of a bride? Clearly it’s not as awful as that. If you don’t wish to help your parents, just say so. When the lease runs up, we’ll go back to the country and… and manage. We always do.”

Anthony’s stomach clenched. How he wished her suspicions were true. He had never been able to turn his parents down when they needed a bit of blunt. But this time, he would have to. And his parents might have to “manage” on their own for far longer than they might think.

“Charlotte and I had a somewhat unplanned elopement,” he explained, careful to avoid sharing too many details. “I found out how tenuous my situation was the following morning. You are correct. It was the most inopportune of moments. But right now, every penny I can find must go toward keeping me out of prison. Or at least reducing the length of my stay.”

His mother paled. She turned her wide eyes not to him, but to Charlotte. “It’s true? They can take Anthony away?”

“They will take him away,” Charlotte corrected grimly as she slid her hand into his. “Unless we can raise enough money to stop it.”

“I got myself into this scrape,” he started to remind her.

Charlotte held up her other palm. “I’m your wife. Now it’s our debt.”

He tightened his jaw. That wasn’t how it was supposed to work. He was the man. The provider. The law bestowed ownership of all property on the husband because the husband was meant to use his resources to protect the wife. Not leave her abandoned and penniless. Right along with his parents.

How on earth would he be able to take care of his family from prison? The reason his parents loved him so much was because he indulged them at every opportunity. Once he was gone, they would lose their home. They might even end up in debtors’ prison alongside him.

“We can’t let that happen.” His mother wrung her thin hands, eyes wide with desperation. “We sold everything of value last year when we were evicted from the old townhouse. Your father hasn’t a single book left in his library. The most expensive thing in this house is the one fine gown I intend to wear all Season. I commissioned a host of interchangeable trims so that no one will realize I’m always wearing the same dress. How can I help when we have no money to give you?”

Anthony blinked. He hadn’t realized his mother had ever taken any cost-saving measures in her life, much less that she actively thought ahead to try and minimize debt. Her complaints about his father’s visits to the club were now colored in a different light. Perhaps it was not the drinking she objected to after all, but rather the associated account they could never manage to settle. And the extra burden on her son.

“I shall have to sack Scroggs.” She took a shaky breath. “The poor girl. And your father will simply have to do without the club. He cannot argue. ’Twas past time. How we shall entertain ourselves in an empty house with nary a book to read, I have no idea. I suppose I shall be too busy scrubbing pots to have time for frivolity anyway. The silver!” Her eyes suddenly lit up. “What if we sell the silver? And your grandmother’s porcelain dining ware? How much do you owe the creditors? Will that do?”

Her questions robbed Anthony of the ability to speak. All the porcelain in Mayfair wouldn’t repay his debt, but the important thing, the inconceivable thing, was that his mother would sacrifice it. His heart wrenched. That dining ware was by far her most valued possession. Something she protected so fiercely, no maid in London was allowed to touch it. She treated each piece like riches on display at a palace.

And she would sell it all without hesitation.

For Anthony.

“I have family jewelry of my own,” Charlotte said. “Perhaps you’d care to accompany me on a visit to a pawnbroker? I cannot think of a worthier cause than Anthony.”

“We’ll all go,” his mother said with determination. “His father might still have something valuable we could sell. There can be no greater emergency than this.” She patted Anthony’s arm despite the panic shimmering in her eyes. “Don’t worry, son. Everything’s going to be all right.”

He swallowed the truth. Less than a week remained. But even if he couldn’t save himself, he could not allow his fate to destroy his parents.

Charlotte squeezed his hand, her blue gaze intense. “I can tell by your face that you think our efforts will not be enough. Even if you’re right, even if we sell the garments off our backs and they still take you away, I will get you out.”

Anthony’s heart flipped and he pulled her close. She was more treasure than he deserved. He held her tight. Breathed in the scent of her hair.

She clutched him as if she would never let him go.

His throat stung. Although they hadn’t exchanged traditional vows, she was on his side, for richer or for poorer. He glanced over at his mother. His parents were, too. They would all look out for each other.

This was what having family truly meant.