Damien St. Lawrence, eighth Earl of Saunders, shouted his frustration loudly before succumbing completely to his anger and hurling his nearly full goblet of brandy at the portrait hanging over the unlit fireplace. The flying glass hit the painting with remarkable accuracy, considering the lack of light in the room and the earl’s inebriated condition, and he grunted in satisfaction.
Gleefully, Damien watched the shards of glass spray the portrait and several thin streams of brandy slither over the face and form of the stunning woman portrayed on the canvas. Only when the largest piece of broken goblet rolled to a stop on the floor, joining its seven predecessors, did the earl turn his back on the painting.
Damien took several unsteady steps toward the center of the room and literally threw himself into an overstuffed chair, the single piece of furniture in the dimly lit room. With a brooding expression on his darkly handsome face, the earl reached down for the brandy decanter he had left on the floor next to his chair. He lifted the decanter high in the air and eyed its contents, pleased to note it was still half full.
The earl reached down a second time, searching fruitlessly for his brandy goblet. He gave a loud snort when he realized that he had just flung the last remaining glass. Never even considering doing anything as uncivilized as drinking the brandy directly from the bottle, Damien instead bellowed for his servant.
“Jenkins! Jenkins! Get in here at once. And bring more glasses!”
Two young footmen, standing sentry outside the locked doors of the drawing room, exchanged nervous glances.
“I’ll go get the glasses,” the one called Manning volunteered. “You wait here for Jenkins.” Before his companion had a chance to argue, Manning left his post, scrambling quickly toward the back of the house.
The other footman, Banks, even more nervous now that he was left alone, winced noticeably when the booming voice of the earl echoed through the house a second time.
“Is his lordship yelling for more brandy, Banks?” Jenkins inquired in a conversational tone, walking up to the drawing room doors.
“N-not yet, Mr. Jenkins,” Banks stammered, his eyes lighting with obvious relief at the sudden appearance of the older man. “But he is calling for you, sir. And for more glasses.”
Jenkins shook his gray head in understanding. “Been smashing them up pretty good, has he?”
Banks nodded eagerly. “Manning and I have been hearing the glass shattering for the past hour. I suppose it was. the crystal,” Banks responded slowly. “Of course, it might have been the windows breaking.”
“Windows?” Jenkins stated with puzzlement. “I hardly think the earl—”
“I’ve brought the goblets, Mr. Jenkins,” Manning interrupted, calling out to the two men as he rushed into the foyer. The young servant awkwardly juggled five mismatched crystal glasses in his arms while walking quickly across the large hallway. “Sorry I couldn’t find a tray to put them on. Mrs. Forbes has already packed all the plate and flatware. I found these glasses on top of an open crate.”
“Good job, Manning,” Jenkins said with approval. He took the glasses from the lad and gingerly brushed off several pieces of straw. “Now go down to the wine cellar and bring up the rest of the brandy. There shouldn’t be much left.”
“More brandy?” Manning squeaked. “The earl’s already had three bottles brought up since dinner.”
“Aye,” Jenkins agreed wryly. “Not to mention the two bottles of wine he drankforhis dinner.”
A telling look passed between the two young footmen. “I suppose his lordship will be f-falling asleep soon?” Banks finally ventured.
“You mean passing out, don’t you, boy?” Jenkins replied with an easy grin. “Well, if he does, it will be the first time I’ve ever seen it happen. And I’ve been with the earl for almost twenty years.”
With that said, Jenkins unlocked and entered the drawing room, leaving the two young footmen once again alone in the foyer, their mouths gaping.
“Where the bloody hell have you been?”
“And a pleasant good evening to you too, your lordship,” Jenkins replied to the husky voice that spoke from the shadows.
The valet stumbled awkwardly into the room, blinking his eyes rapidly in the semidarkness. The only source of light, a single candle on the far side of the room, cast an orb of illumination throughout the vast, empty room. Jenkins suppressed a shiver. In addition to the gloomy darkness, the room was ice cold. “Good God, how can you see anything in here? It’s like a bloody tomb.”
“I prefer it this way,” the earl retorted. Damien sighed and leaned his head back in his chair, restlessly stroking the neck of the brandy decanter he gripped tightly in his left hand. “And since when do you address me as ’your lordship’?”
“Since you stopped acting like one,” Jenkins shot back. “I thought a subtle reminder that you are a peer of the realm might help you sober up.”
The earl laughed loudly and lifted his head toward his servant. “I swear, Jenkins, you have always held a romantic and unrealistic opinion concerning the conduct of the nobility. By drinking myself into a bloody stupor, I am acting precisely as a true earl would. Furthermore, you do not, as I recall, possess one subtle bone in your entire body.” Damien reached out and took the glasses the valet was balancing in his arms. He carefully lined them up on the floor by his feet. “Besides, I believe I am still far too sober for my own good.”
Jenkins made a face at that remark but did not comment. Instead he walked to the mantle and found a hand of candles with the majority of the tapers still a considerable length. The valet located a flint and lit the candles, then bent down over the cold hearth and started building a fire.
“Watch out for the broken glass,” the earl warned, when he saw his servant kneeling in front of the marble fireplace.
“I would have to be a blind man to miss it all,” Jenkins replied smoothly. “ ’Tis everywhere.”
“I think I actually hit her eyes with the last shot,” the earl mused aloud, staring up at the portrait, now brilliantly illuminated. “I do believe, my friend, my aim has improved over the course of the evening.”
