“Yes,” he said quietly. “I am.”
* * *
“Good morning,” Spencer drawled as Alexander entered the bright, sunlit breakfast room of Wutherton Manor. “You look… well.”
Alexander shot him a look. “You, my friend, are a terrible liar.”
Spencer grinned, folding his newspaper. “I try.”
The long table was already set with eggs, toast, ham, fruit, and enough tea to drown a regiment.
“After breakfast,” he said casually, “care for a game of hazard?”
Alexander shook his head. “Not today.”
Spencer’s brows rose. “Declining a game? Now I know something is wrong. Please sit.” He gestured to the empty chair opposite him.
Alexander did and immediately winced as his bruised ribs protested. Spencer noticed and his piercing blue eyes narrowed with quiet suspicion.
“What is it?” Alexander asked dryly.
“Nothing,” Spencer muttered and shrugged casually.
Alexander’s jaw tightened. “Just say it.”
His friend sighed, leaning back as the maids. Only when they withdrew did he speak again.
“Alexander, I say this, not as your friend, but as your brother, you should stop the boxing.”
Alexander avoided looking at him and stabbed a piece of ham. “Absolutely not.”
“You are putting your life in danger,” Spencer said calmly. “And what will happen to Rosalind if something happens to you?”
Alexander’s hand stilled. That was the one argument he could never fully deflect.
But he tried anyway. “I need the boxing just like you need to lecture everyone with your great wisdom.”
Spencer scoffed and studied him for a long moment, then nodded once. “Very well. I will not press you on the matter.”
They dropped the topic, though the tension lingered like smoke in the room.
They ate in silence for a few minutes before Spencer cleared his throat. “Have you found any friends for Rosalind yet?”
Alexander’s fork paused mid-air. “No.”
Spencer frowned. “I thought you had someone in mind.”
“I did,” Alexander said quietly. “but I was wrong.”
Spencer’s frown deepened, but he did not pry any further.
Alexander sipped his tea and looked around. “How is Anna? Where is she this morning?”
Spencer’s expression softened. “She is preparing something for the ladies in her reading group.”
Alexander raised a brow. “Reading group?”
“Yes,” Spencer said, sipping his tea. “They call it theCorset Chronicles.”
