Something’s Off
“You look like death.” Blackheart didn’t hold back when he opened the door for Mantis and Cordelia, who was joining them for this evening’s festivities.
“Why thank you,Your Grace.” Mantis didn’t even try to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. Even before these butler tomfooleries, he doubted any of them had “Your Graced” Blackheart in over a decade. Not that they didn’t respect him, rather the opposite really.
Because the man behind the title, the person, was so much more than your run-of-the-mill duke.
Blackheart held the door wide with a flourish. The plan was for Mantis, Cordelia, Greystone, as well as the two cousins, to collect Felicity from her home and then ride the boat over to the pleasure gardens, where they would meet up with the rest of their party.
Breathless after climbing a simple flight of stairs, Mantis cursed his recent malady.
“You ought to be in bed,” Cordelia scolded as she turned around to watch him.
“I’m fine,” he answered, determined not to disappoint his fiancée on what was planned to be a most enjoyable evening.
The stomach upset was gone. He could endure the residual aches and weakness.
“I’m going upstairs.” Cordelia was already halfway up another flight of stairs. “Miss Faraday said she wanted to try something new with my hair.”
“First door on your left,” Blackheart instructed her from behind them.
“Don’t take too long,” Mantis added. He was happy for his sister to enjoy some female company but was determined to arrive on time to collect Felicity. He’d drive to Bright Place on his own if necessary.
“Good God, what happened to you?” Greys’ greeting as Mantis stepped inside the drawing room was no less encouraging than his butlers had been. Blackheart followed him inside and made no move to return to his post.
Mantis waved the question off. All he cared about was seeing Felicity, even if he wasn’t really feeling up to a night of revelry.
“Ate something bad.” The memory of the violent retching sent a tremor through him.
“When was this?” Blackheart asked.
Last night? The night before? Where had he been? A simple question and yet Mantis’ brain struggled to isolate an answer. He hadn’t meditated or sparred in two days and that was often the result. Too many thoughts in his head.
“Two nights ago. Dinner at Bright Place. With my parents,” he added. “Not the most enjoyable evening I’ve spent, but a man does what a man must do.”
“I thought Brightley had come around.”
“He has.” More than Mantis could have hoped for, in fact. “The evening was ruined by Crestwood and his wife.” Admissions such as this made it difficult to refer to his father by anything other than his title. “My father quite lived up to my expectations.”
He had only inferred the nature of Felicity’s condition to Blackheart, and he presumed Greystone had guessed. Still, Mantis wasn’t willing to openly discuss the details of such a sensitive situation.
Although…
In light of a brush with his own mortality, it might be best to have two of the people he trusted more than anyone else informed of his current circumstances.
“A gathering of the future in-laws. Can’t say I’m sorry I wasn’t invited.” Greys crossed one leg over the other. For tonight’s festivities, the marquess’s evening wear went beyond the height of fashion. Elaborate lace peeked out from the sleeves of his emerald velvet jacket, and matching trousers and a mint green waistcoat rounded out the ensemble. Despite the ostentatious choice of eveningwear, Greys appeared perfectly elegant and at ease in his masculinity.
Mantis ran a hand through his hair. “Lady Felicity’s parents were aware of her condition, but mine were not. At the end of the evening, Lady Brightley allowed it to slip and my father…”had called his fiancée a whore“and his wife did not take it well.”
Blackheart stepped sideways and closed the door.
When he turned around, his expression reminded Mantis of one of the exotic cats he’d once observed at The Royal Menagerie. “What did Crestwood say?”
Mantis couldn’t repeat it. “He disparaged Felicity, but when I challenged him, he backed down.”
Greys had leaned forward in his chair, looking more alert as well.
“An earl learns his heir is setting up his nursery earlier than anticipated and he isunhappyabout that? It’s not as though Crestwood has ever been a stickler about upholding societal standards.”
