Page 60

Almost every afternoon, a neatly folded note appeared upon his desk.

11:40 a.m. — Her Grace has requested that the breakfast room curtains remain open today. Staff await Your Grace's instruction should you wish them drawn.

Arthur reached for his teacup, allowing the warmth to settle into his palm as he took a measured sip. Across from him, Laurence lounged in his usual chair with the infuriating ease of a man who had entirely forgotten he was a guest rather than master of the house. One ankle rested upon the opposite knee, his napkin hung carelessly over one shoulder, and there was already a mischievous glint in his eye.

Arthur recognised it immediately. He lowered his cup with the quiet certainty of a man bracing for artillery fire.

It was coming.

Laurence had worn that expression throughout the previous afternoon whilst Arthur repeatedly failed to hit a stationary target no more than thirty yards away. It was the expression of a man who had found something endlessly amusing and had every intention of enjoying it for as long as possible.

"So," Laurence began at last, buttering an entirely unnecessary second slice of toast with exaggerated concentration.

"What did the dear Earl of Danbury have to say after I assume you threatened the continued existence of his bloodline?"

Arthur did not so much as look up.

"I did no such thing."

"No?" questioned Laurence.

Arthur calmly folded the corner of his newspaper before setting it aside altogether. There was little point in attempting to read whilst Laurence was determined to entertain himself.

"I merely informed him that should he continue to ignore the Duchess’s correspondence, I would consider it a slight against the House of Buckingham."

"And?"

Arthur reached for the marmalade with unhurried precision.

"I explained that I should find it deeply inconvenient if I were forced to travel to London and challenge him to a duel for said slight."

Laurence barked with laughter, nearly spilling his tea.

"My dear Buck..." he wheezed, setting his cup hurriedly back into its saucer. "You have just described a threat."

Arthur spread marmalade evenly across his toast.

"I described a consequence."

"A consequence involving pistols," said Laurence.

"Only if he chose unwisely," said Arthur, causing Laurence to snort.

"When," he asked without looking up, "are you leaving?"

"I had no idea my company had become so unbearable.”

"I have found it unbearable for quite some time," replied Arthur.

"You hide it remarkably well.”

"I wasn't trying to," grunted Arthur.

"Very well then." Laurence paused, clearly abandoning one avenue of mischief in favour of another. "If discussions of duelling are no longer welcome, perhaps we might resume yesterday's conversation regarding..."

Laurence lowered his voice conspiratorially, leaning across the table until his elbows rested upon the polished oak. "...the marital bed."

He accompanied the words with an outrageous wiggle of his eyebrows.