“Dash it!” Harry said indignantly, falling onto the squab as Jack climbed in beside him. He attempted to straighten his clothes but only made things worse. “Seem to have lost my hat.”
Jack picked it up off the floor and held it out.
“There it is. The devils must have kept topping up my glass when my back was turned.”
“I daresay my time will come, and so will theirs, Harry,” Jack said with a grin. “Remember that.”
“Ah,” Harry said with a lopsided smile. “Yes. I’ll get ’em.” He turned to Jack suddenly and then appeared to regret it, groaning, and holding his head with both hands. “You’ve got the package for Miss Sullivan in Ireland?”
“I have it here safe, Harry,” Jack said, tucking the rather large parcel tied up with string under his arm. “Tell Erina I promise to deliver it.”
“Good fellow, Jack,” Harry murmured as the hackney pulled up. “Help me inside, if you will.”
*
Erina hadn’t beenable to sleep. Sir Ambrose’s house was so big and ancient, it creaked abominably and sounded as if someone walked backward and forward outside the door. This time, there definitely were footsteps in the corridor. She frowned. It did not sound like Harry. She knew his firm tread. The door opened. She clutched the bedcovers to her chest. Open-mouthed, she watched as Harry staggered into the room in an appalling state of dishevelment. “Harry!”
“Sorry, Erina. Sorry, my love,” he murmured with a lamentable shake of his head, which almost made him lose his balance. His cravat was hanging limply, and his coat slid off one shoulder. He seemed to have lost a glove.
She leaped out of bed and hurried over to him. “What has happened? Were you robbed?”
“No. Fellows had a bit of fun with me. B…Bashelor dinner an’ all.”
“Harry! You are drunk!” In all the time she had known him, she’d never seen him drink more than a glass or two of wine.
“Good thing I paced myself. Only half-sprung.” Harry sat on a chair and tried to pull off his shoes. He managed one, then gave up and stood, dragging off his coat and almost falling again. “That Tim is asneaky devil,” he said heatedly, stripping it off and throwing the garment down. “Can’t trust Miles any farther than you can throw him, either.”
“Keep still.” She untied his cravat as he tried to kiss her. Missing her mouth, he kissed her nose instead. He smelled strongly of port. “Sorry, my love,” he said again. “But I’ll get ’em.”
He fell back onto the bed.
“Well, I hope it’s not during our honeymoon,” Erina said. “It seems you’ve got the worst of it this time.” She realized Harry was snoring.
Erina slipped off his other shoe. She undid the buttons on his trousers and pulled them off while he continued to snore. Drawing the covers over him, she gazed lovingly at his sleeping face, so boyish in repose. “Oh, Harry,” she said with a soft laugh. “And you, always so immaculate. The rascals!”
She climbed into bed beside him. “You will have such a headache in the morning. And we sail for France on the tide! I wonder if it’s your head I’ll be holding over the rail?” Giggling, she snuggled into his warmth and closed her eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The following morning,Jack instructed his valet to pack the small portmanteau with the few clothes he had chosen to take on his earlier journey.
“Might I accompany you tomorrow, Captain?” Devon asked. “You might have need of me.”
Jack smiled at seeing his valet’s long face. “No, thank you, Devon. As you can see, my needs are simple. Please spend the time I am away as you see fit. Of course, you will receive your full wages. You may also return to Albany should you wish to earn a little extra valeting for other gentlemen. As long as I don’t lose you to the place.”
Devon grinned. “Have no fear, Captain. I’ll be here when you return.”
Jack penned a letter to Althea, which should find her at her home in Burford, Oxfordshire. Then, he left a list of instructions for the rest of his staff. He was pleased with Jenkins, his new steward, who had a good brain, and, as the son of a steward, was well versed in his position. That evening, Jack joined Grant for a farewell drink at his Mayfair mansion.
Jack looked around the small salon where he and his father had spent many a pleasant evening. “I had hoped to say goodbye to Aunt Elizabeth.”
“I shall relay your message to Mother at breakfast,” Grant said. “She is dining with the Moncrieffs tonight.”
“She is well?”
“In excellent health. Which I suspect is not the case for Harry,” Grant said with a sympathetic shake of his head. “I wonder how he fares on board the ship.”
“Poorly, I imagine,” Jack replied. “But he has the lovely, understanding Lady Erina to hold his head.”
