“And pray tell, what was such business that kept you from your only brother-in-law’s birthday celebration?” She inquired.
Tristan pressed his lips together, barely able to manage the smile on his face. In truth he had been with Christopher at the gaming hell. His investigation had turned up very little when his men went to question William Boyle. The man’s mind had beenaddled before he’d been sent to prison, and his stay there, it turned out, had only addled him further. He was of little to no help in getting closer to Perley and the investigation had come to an annoyingly dead end.
“What matters is that I made it,” he replied in a gentle,do not argue with metone. “Now, where is the man we are celebrating? I have a gift for him.”
Tristan lifted his eyes to the crowded parlor to search for Alistair, but did not see the giant Scot anywhere.
“Oh, pray tell it is not another bottle of whiskey,” Theo groaned, moving to Tristan’s side. “The man owns dozens of breweries yet bottles are all that he has received thus far.”
Tristan chuckled, appreciating the irony.
“It is a pocket watch,” he assured her.
“Oh, how lovely,” Theo sighed, patting his shoulder. “He is in the smoke room with Dominic and the rest of your merry band of brothers. Go, give him your gift, and while you are at it, tell him and the others to join us. It is nearly time to cut the cake.”
“I will,” Tristan agreed.
After kissing Theo on the cheek, he moved out of the busy parlor and toward the smoke room. As he opened the door, his nostrils were quickly filled with the scent of expensive tobacco andwhiskey as his ears were assaulted by the loud, raucous laughter of foxed noblemen.
“Tristan!” Alistair roared, his deep voice booming through the smoke room.
Tristan smirked as he easily spotted Alistair, Dominic, Everett, and Hugo gathered together, as per usual, through the crowd of tailored suits. Everyone turned to him, their smiles wide and tad bit lopsided as Tristan made his way toward his friends.
“Many happy returns of your birthday, old boy,” Tristan greeted.
He barely got the words out before the behemoth man wrapped his large arms around Tristan and hugged him so tight that his feet left the floor. The moment before his breath was squeezed from his lungs he caught the heavy scent of whiskey emanating from Alistair’s breath, and wheezed out a laugh.
“Someone opened up their birthday presents, I see,” he choked out.
Alistair’s laughter, along with that of the rest of their friends, was loud and raucous as Tristan was put back on his feet.
“Well it would have been rude, you see,” Alistair said, slurring slightly as he picked up a nearly empty bottle and a clean glass, “To not sample a tipple from each gift.”
“Very rude,” Dominic added, swaying a bit as he raised his glass. “You must catch up, though. I believe it is mandatory.”
“We cannot offend anyone,” Hugo added, his dark eyes glassy.
“Our wives would be most displeased if we were not well-mannered,” Everett added through a lopsided grin.
Tristan rolled his eyes, but his smile was genuine. It had been a long time since he and his friends had let a little loose and after all of their success, they certainly deserved it. Alistair swayed a little as he emptied the bottle into the new glass, nearly filling it to brim.
Under most circumstances Tristan would make a jest about the amount in the glass, but tonight, he simply took it. After the lack of progress in their investigation, he could do with getting a little foxed himself.
“To Alistair’s birth,” Tristan said, raising his glass in a toast, “And the many years he may have left.”
His four friends clinked their glasses to his.
“To Alistair’s birth!” His friends shouted in unison.
Their cheers were so loud that the rest of the room caught on, and in the next moment, the room erupted with shouts of congratulations. Tristan chuckled at the sight around him, and threw back half of the glass down his throat. His head spundelightfully as the whiskey burned down his throat and into his stomach. Dominic was right, he did need to catch up.
He held out his empty glass and someone immediately filled it. He knocked it back after lifting it toward his friends, this time without a toast.
“Here, old boy,” Tristan said, taking the small box from his inner jacket pocket, “Take this before I become too foxed to give it to you.”
Alistair took the gift and opened it quickly with fumbling fingers, and again Tristan smirked at how inebriated his friends were. When Alistair managed the silver pocket watch from the box though, Tristan was caught off guard when the giant Scotsman’s eyes misted.
“All right there, old boy?” Tristan asked, half-jesting, half-serious.
