I hadn’t bothered with the grey curtains that morning, or any of the others. Daylight peered in around the edges, threatening me. Last evening’s drink left me bottle weary and I doubted today would be the day I braved the curtains.
The collection of empty tumblers and teacups on my table was beginning to disgust even me, though I still left one or two unused—perfect for at least another day or two.
As the second son of an impoverished viscount, I didn’t employ a valet, and my maid had been caring for an unwell mother for some weeks. She’d likely quit when she returned and saw the state of the place.
The chamber pot was calling me but the thought of moving was exhausting. Instead, I watched the light spilling in from above the curtain spread in an ever-lengthening semi-circle across the ceiling.
My bedding was unmade and smelled of sweat and whiskey, and the scent wasn’t improving my stomach. Tea would help, but I’d have to make it first—and that was an unappealing thought.
With a sigh that would have been performative if I had an audience, I rolled to my side and curled my knees up. There, on my bedside table, lay a metallic snuffbox—the one I’d stolen from the Duchess of Sutton like a desperate child becauseXander’s fingers brushed mine when he handed it to me on Hugh’s wedding day.
With the curtains drawn, the light couldn’t reach it, didn’t caress the delicate facets sending fractals dancing around the room. That, more than anything, had me considering the curtains with more seriousness.
Before I had worked up the will to move, a heavy knock in the entry rattled the door in its frame and my stomach dropped.
I rolled over, silent, desperately praying Hugh would assume I was away, but another few pounds sounded from the hall.
“Tom, open up!” a masculine—distinctly not Hugh—voice called. I was all astonishment when I placed the voice of Kit.
Kit and I got along well enough at family dinners, but we weren’t what anyone would consider close—certainly not visiting each other’s homes close. Which meant one thing. Kate had sent him.
It was an interesting strategy, I had to give her that.
“I know you’re in there—I can smell you from here.”
With a sigh, I rolled to seated, grabbed a shirt from the end of the bed and gave it a tentative sniff—damn. He probably wasn’t lying.
I dug a fresh-ish one from the wardrobe and tugged it over my head before padding to the hall barefoot.
“What?” I demanded as I yanked the door open.
“Christ…” His gaze flitted up and down my sad form.
“That bad?”
He nodded. “And worse, I have to admit to Kate that she was right to be worried. Do you know how insufferable she is when she’s right?”
“She’s only insufferable to you. She’s sweet to everyone else.” I turned and trod back down the hall, leaving him to follow.
“Precisely… Did something die in here?” he asked when we reached the dining area where the majority of my cups were perilously piled.
“Tragically, no.”
He hummed thoughtfully before beginning to collect the glasses in the crook of his arm.
“Leave that.”
“Absolutely not. Katie would have my head if I left it like this. And don’t bother glowering at me, you’re not nearly as terrifying as my baby sister. Go—wash up, get dressed. I’ll manage this.”
“Why?”
“I shoved Will off on his honeymoon and I need an extra set of hands at the offices,” he explained.
“Don’t you have clerks for that?”
“Astonishingly, a few of them quit when their office nearly burnt to the ground.” It was a shock when someone attacked Will Hart outside of his offices and set them alight. Though Will’s injuries were relatively minor and no one else save the perpetrators were injured, I could understand the reluctance to work out of a half-ash office.
“No one has any work ethic these days…” I quipped.
