Morgan blinked at the offer of freedom and then glanced at his brother. “What?”
“Your debts are paid,” the guard answered first, then flashed a rotten-toothed smile toward Roseford. “With our thanks for the extra, Your Grace.”
Robert sniffed his response and turned, motioning to Morgan to follow. “Come along, Morgan.”
Morgan looked around, but there seemed to be nothing he’d left behind in the nasty cell. He staggered after Robert, his stomach still roiling and his brain still a bit foggy from whatever had felled him last night. Normally he was capable of holding his liquor, so it must have been far more of a party than he recalled.
They weaved their way through the corridors, past men in cells in varying conditions. There were no words said until they exited the building at last and stood in the fresher air of the city. A cold rain drizzled down around them, and Morgan pulled his jacket closer and hoped he hadn’t lost his fine great coat in his foggy night of sin.
Roseford’s carriage came along at last. Roseford motioned him in, then said something to his driver before he joined Morgan. They were off in a flash and Roseford sat, silently staring at Morgan as they rode along.
If his brother had railed at him, Morgan would have preferred it. But when he sat silently, arms folded, gaze held firmly on Morgan’s, it made him feel worse than he already did. Like he needed to defend himself.
“You were just as bad as me,” he said at last.
Robert tilted his head back and let out a full, loud belly laugh. Morgan couldn’t help but stare. It made his brother look younger, more wicked. He could see the man he would have liked to run the hells with, rather than the stern duke who held the purse strings and scolded.
“I was that,” Roseford said at last. “I never ended up in Newgate, mind you…but close. I have changed, though.”
Morgan shrugged. Everyone knew that story, even if he and Roseford weren’t that close. “Oh yes. Yourgreat love.”
Roseford’s eyes narrowed at his dismissive tone. “Yes. Katherine changed me. Or made me want to change myself, which is better. And you may scoff, but I would wish you the same luck that you could find someone like her.”
“Hm,” Morgan said, staring out the window into the distance. “Not interested.”
Robert arched a brow. “You don’t seem interested in much.”
Morgan didn’t respond as the carriage pulled through the gate of Robert’s London estate and came to a stop on the circular drive. Robert cleared his throat as the carriage door opened. “Come in.”
Morgan shifted. He was in no mood to be clucked over and lectured to by a man who had been known as a libertine just three years prior. He wanted to go home, take a bath and try to remember what exactly had put him in the state he’d woken in.
“No,” he said. “I—”
Robert pivoted back and stuck his head into the carriage again. His dark eyes were lit up with emotion now. Frustration. Anger. Fear. Fear for him? Morgan couldn’t believe that. They weren’t that close. Why would Roseford care what happened to him, beyond how it affected his own reputation?
“It wasn’t a fucking question, Morgan,” Robert snapped. “Get your arse out of my carriage and come into my parlor.Now.”
For a moment, Morgan thought to refuse. He’d had one fight in the last twenty-four hours, why not two? He had a feeling Robert could scrap, no matter how fine his waistcoat was. But in the end, he couldn’t stomach it. He trudged from the carriage and followed his brother into the beautiful house for the dressing down he knew he deserved.
“Good morning, Jenner,” Robert said, bright as could be.
Jenner inclined his head. “Welcome back, Your Grace. Mr. Banfield, I see you have no coat.”
Morgan glared at his impassive face. “No coat, no gloves, no hat. I’m every bit the mess I seem to be.”
“Very good, sir,” Jenner said, without inflection or reaction. “Your Grace, Her Grace and Miss Oliver are in the blue parlor.”
“Excellent. Will you have a bath prepared for my brother?” Robert asked.
Morgan huffed out a breath. “I don’t need you to get a bath for me, Roseford. I can go home and do it myself.”
Roseford ignored him and strode up the hall, leaving Morgan no choice but to follow. He heard feminine voices in the distance. Musical laughter. As they entered the room, he saw Roseford’s wife, Katherine, sitting with their sister, Selina. Their heads were close together and they were giggling like schoolgirls.
“In the face?” Katherine was saying.
“Where else was I to do it?” Selina asked as she took a sip of her tea. “I wasn’t trying to maim him, just put him in his place.”
“I’m certain you putanyman in his place without even trying,” Roseford said as he swept into the room. The women got up and he crossed to press a brief kiss to Selina’s cheek. Then he caught Katherine’s hand and brought it to his lips. “I’m back.”
