Page 63 of The Duke's Vice

Frederic grasped his chest in protest. “You wound me, brother. There is nothing here that cannot tame your senses. What has caused such melancholy in a joyful man?”

Ezra gritted his teeth. No one on God’s green earth would ever describe him as a ‘joyful man,’ not even those at Swarthmore’s who knew him as somewhat jovial.

He reached up and rubbed his eyes. “Honestly, Frederic, I question why we are friends sometimes.”

Frederic’s laugh annoyed him. “Well, it’s your misfortune if we are not friends, since I am married to your sister. Friend are not, I’m afraid I’m not going anywhere.”

Ezra groaned as he allowed Frederic to push him towards a corner that had two chairs on opposite sides of a chess set.

“I’m in no mood to play games, Frederic. I have enough game playing in my own life, I don’t need to do it for enjoyment.” Gods be damned if wasn’t whining. Ezra scowled, his whole life is becoming unrecognizable.

Frederic’s eyes focused on his friend. “Playing games, are we? Does this auspicious mood have anything to do with a certain Lady whose name begins with a ‘B’?” Frederic teased before pointing a finger in the air. “Oh wait, or does her name start with the letter ‘C’? I also hear congratulations are in order. You do wound me, though. You’re married and you didn’t invite your dearest and oldest friend, nor your sister.” Frederic tsked. “We expected more from the great solicitor.”

Ezra rolled his lips. “You spoke with Melinda?” His voice held no weight or emotion.

Frederic waved over an attendant who had two tumblers of whisky on his tray. “Aye, I did. She said you two were quiet the pair last night. Drinking and gambling, have a gay old time, did we?”

To Frederic’s defense, Ezra could tell his friend tried to hide his mirth but he was positively buzzing with it.

“Go on. Say what you’re going to say.” Ezra threw back some of the amber liquid and dropped his head into his hands.

Frederic laughed and ruffled his friend’s hair. Ezra swatted the hand away.

“How little you think of me that I would pick a man so obviously low that I would burden him with the knowledge that I was right.”

Ezra merely picked up his head and gave his friend a pointed look.

“And you’d be absolutely right to think that low of me, because I would love to burden you with such knowledge!” Frederic barked out a laugh, annoying Ezra to his core.

He drank more of the whisky, wanting the alcohol to dull of his senses. Particularly his hearing. Ezra sat back in his chair, resting his tumbler on his thigh.

“Well, then, let’s have it.” He conceded.

Frederic sat up and cleared his throat. “Give me a moment. It’s not every day you allow me the honor of being right.”

Ezra glanced to the door. There were other clubs he could go to.

“You’ve fallen for her.” Frederic’s words lost all jest and felt like a slap across Ezra’s face.

Ezra’s eyes snapped to his brother-in-law’s. “Excuse me?”

Frederic’s eyes searched Ezra. “Look at you. I have never seen you like this. You are positively lost to this woman.”

Ezra grimaced. “I am not.” He murmured.

Frederic tilted his head, considering his friend. “According to Melinda you have. She may not have known you as long as I have, but you must agree that she is an excellent judge of character.”

“And a gossipmonger if there ever was one.” Ezra grumbled into his tumbler, swallowing the last bit before signaling for another.

Frederic nodded. “True, thetondefinitely missed out on her expertise. Regardless, she said she saw you in a way she’s never seen you before. You were…” Frederic waved his hands in front of him, as if he was conjuring the words before him. “Nice. Cordial.”

“I take offense to that. I may be a bit standoffish here,” his head gestured to the club, “in polite society,” he said with a sneer. “But there those people know who I really am. I am never not cordial to them.”

Frederic slammed his hand on the table between them, startling some of the fellow gentleman at nearby tables. After nodding in apology, Frederic brought his attention back to Ezra. “Exactly.” His voice just above a whisper. “You took her to Swarthmore’s, a place you consider your refuge. You’ve never taken any one there, your own sister has never been there.”

“Well, that’s on you, brother. You can take your wife there.” Ezra interjected.

“Like you took yours?” Frederic challenged with a raise of an eyebrow.

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