They had harassed Ethan over his pretty looks (Malcolm: “I hear tell he’s a Diamond of the First Water. Loveliest debutante in London.”) and Fox over his age (Ethan: “Eh, what’s that, Grandad? Are ye mumbling again?”).
Absurd bets and stupid dares were all that remained, and Fox appeared well on his way to ticking those off, too.
“You know,” her husband said as they sat in the great hall after dinner, “when I was in India, I once bet my friend, Captain Lord Dennis Battleton, that he couldn’t pet a tiger.”
She and Fox were on the recently delivered sofa, with Malcolm and Ethan opposite in the new wingback chairs.
Leah bent her head over the collar she was embroidering for Madeline, torn between smiling at the men’s camaraderie, longing to throttle them for their male obliviousness, and wondering at what point she should intervene.
“A tiger,” Ethan laughed, as if this were the funniest thing. Her brother rocked slightly in his chair, cheeks flushed red and gaze bleary.
“I’d love tae pet a tiger,” Malcolm joined in. “Never seen a tiger. I imagine it would be fearsome.” He mimed a silent roar.
Each glass of alcohol seemed to have added one more word to Malcolm’s normally reticent sentences. If he continued on like this, Leah figured her brother would be speaking in full paragraphs within the hour.
“I’ve seen a tiger.” Ethan swayed to the right. “In London, in ‘34, afore they disbanded the Tower Menagerie.” He belched. “Went there with Uncle.”
“I wasnae invited tae that,” Malcolm scowled.
“I’ve seen a tiger. Wait . . . wehavea tiger,” Fox pronounced dramatically. He bent to glance under his chair and nearly fell forward. “Or rather, a . . . a lion.” He righted himself, frowning.
Both Malcolm and Ethan looked impressed with that.
Leah raised her eyebrows.
“Are ye sure we have a tiger, husband?” she asked.
“Yes. We have a lion . . . adandelion.”
Ah.
Malcolm and Ethan both snickered, as if a dandelion was the grandest jest.
Fox continued to cast about the room for the cat, head dipping low. He pitched forward but managed to stop himself from toppling off the sofa.
He had matched her brothers glass for glass, and yet, he seemed a good deal steadier. Her husband could certainly hold his liquor.
Leah didn’t know if this were a good or bad quality.
“Damn cat,” Fox pronounced.
“It’s a cat then, no’ a l-lion?” Malcolm asked, hiccupping.
“Yes. A most uncooperative animal. Only around when I don’t need him to be.” Fox leaned, as if imparting a secret. “Did you know, I woke up the other day to find that cat licking my toes.Licking!”
Leah’s brothers guffawed.
“Like a dog, I ken,” Ethan chuckled, his accent slipping farther into the rolling brogue of his youth. Drink had a way of bringing his roots to the surface. “Are ye quite sure he is a cat and not a lion?”
Malcolm snorted. “Aye. I ken a dog licks ye tae say ‘I like ye.’ But a cat? A cat only licks ye tae see how delicious ye would be should an unfortunate accident befall ye.”
The men roared with laughter.
Leah thought Malcolm rather had the right of it. Mr. Dandywaslikely testing to see how edible Fox would be.
Regardless, Leah needed to end this circus before the men moved from discussing absurd bets to performing stupid dares. They were far too drunk to dare one another in a responsible manner.
As if to punctuate the need for sleep, rain abruptly splatted against the east-facing walls of the hall, a jarring rat-a-tat of sound. The hour had chimed midnight at least thirty minutes past, and the sun had thoroughly set. Given that they were into June now, darkness came late this far north. But tonight, with the inclement weather, full night had descended.
