Cunningham snorts while Prince gapes at Bobby, his brown hair flopping into his eyes as if in admonishment. “I admire a lovely lady,” Prince says innocently.
“And a lovely gent, if there’s one around,” Cunningham adds, reaching around Bobby’s back to flick Prince’s ear.
Bobby notes Demeroven glancing around. But the dim, crowded pub is more than loud enough to drown out any secrets they may reveal in their drunken revels. It’s why he and Cunningham picked the Thirsty Pig as their first spot. And they’ll only get more rowdy from here.
“It’s my stag night. I’ll ogle anyone I please, thanks,” Prince says haughtily, before letting out an enormous belch.
The whole table laughs. “And does your fiancée enjoy seeing you this sloshed?” Wristead asks merrily, his face already flushed, hair plastered to his forehead.
“She does,” Prince says easily. “What about Mary Ann?”
“She’s such a lightweight, we’ve never managed,” Wristead admits. “But she mixes an excellent cocktail. Could give Jeremy a run for his money.”
“We should get her together with my cousin and Miss Bertram,” Bobby says. “Lady Gwen has developed a keen interest in mixed drinks over the last year.”
“Has she?” Demeroven asks, blinking at his own question.
“She makes a mean sherry cobbler,” Bobby finds himself saying. Nothing strange about them discussing Gwen, when they’ve yet to speak a direct word to each other all night. Let alone about anything... important.
“Oh, that could be dangerous territory,” Rupping says, his voice loud and scratchy already. “Lady Gwen gets ever so competitive.”
“I think Mary Ann can take her,” Wristead insists.
“If she’s a better sport than you are, Lady Gwen would delight in challenging her,” Bobby says as Wristead frowns over at him.
“That’s right. Didn’t you break your croquet mallet two seasons ago after a run-in with Mason’s dear cousin?” Cunningham asks Wristead while Prince chuckles into his drink.
“I didn’t break it. It broke. Very different. And she cheated,” Wristead insists.
Bobby rolls his eyes. “Lady Gwen doesn’t need to cheat to beat every one of your arses at whatever sport she chooses. You’re just a sore loser, Wristead.”
“Truly,” Prince agrees.
“The worst,” Rupping says.
“You’re making me long for the country,” Wristead grumbles. “And I hate the country.”
Prince belches again and Bobby glances over toward the bar. He catches the barmaid’s harried eyes, her arms laden with orders. She shakes her head.
“All right, lads, I think it’s time we hit the next bar, before our groom drinks himself to death at this one,” he suggests.
“Fox and Toad?” Rupping asks the group.
“Fox and Toad,” they all chorus, even Demeroven.
Bobby gets distracted watching Demeroven slide out of the booth, his slender, muscled frame unfolding as he stands. He’s got his frock coat over his arm and his shirt cuffs rolled up to his biceps, tie undone around his neck. Ruffled and sweaty—the look brings back memories of their tryst behind the tent flap and Bobby shakes himself.
It was a onetime thing. He can’t let himself become captivated by the idea. The man isn’t interested. And he’s not in the business of chasing someone who doesn’t want him.
Prince pulls Bobby up, leaning into him with a dopey little smile. He was able to get over his crush on Prince, after all. And now he’s happy for the man, off to a life of wedded bliss with a lovely young woman. He’ll... get over Demeroven, somehow.
Cunningham struggles up behind him and Bobby has enough presence of mind to get Prince’s arm around his shoulder. He turns to Cunningham and nudges him. “Give her something extra; we’re a handful.”
“Steady on,” Cunningham agrees, pulling a few crumpled notes from his pocket.
They traipse through the crowded pub and Bobby ensures Cunningham runs into their barmaid to hand the money to her directly, before they all spill out onto the street.
Rupping and Wristead are swinging around a lamppost, singing some shanty and garnering glares from the still fairly respectable citizens on the high street. It’s early yet. Too early for dirty sea shanties.
