Page 29 of A Touch Wicked
Didn’t matter.
He grasped the nearest gin bottle. “If you’re not going to say anything useful,” James said to his brother, “then get out.”
“I assumed that was useful knowledge. When was the last time you changed clothes? Hell, when was the last time youbathed?”
God, he couldn’t remember. He didn’t fucking care.
James shrugged and poured himself the dregs of the bottle, downed it quick. Gin was a poor man’s beverage, and he could see why some drank it every night. It went down so easily, once you grew used to it.
“Don’t you have something else to keep you busy, Richard? A new lover to entertain you?”
Richard’s expression darkened. “I don’t care to discuss it.”
“Ah. It’s to do with Miss Sheffield, then. Did you fuck her?”
Richard strode forward and grabbed the glass out of James’s hand, then sniffed it. “Jesus Christ, James. Gin? Where did you get this?”
“A gin palace in Spitalfields. At least it’s not opium.”
At that, Richard snorted. “Am I supposed to be relieved? No wonder you’re such foul goddamn company. Have you seen yourself?”
“If I wanted to hear a sermon, I’d attend church.” James snatched the glass out of his brother’s hand. “Go home.”
Richard, being as much of a stubborn bastard as James, didn’t even move. He scowled, not bothering to conceal his distaste. “I assume your efforts to destroy yourself didn’t come out of thin air. What happened with your masked woman?”
James reached for the gin bottle again only to recall he’d had the last of it.Shit.
“She lied to me and didn’t care for honesty. So we went our separate ways.”
His brother let out a short laugh. “It’s the Masquerade, James. A lack of honesty is rather the point.”
“I know that,” James said.
Richard stared at him. “You let her see your face.”
“More than that.” James’s voice was bitter. The admission felt foul on his tongue.
The answer must have dawned on Richard, because he gaped at his brother. “You offered tomarryher?” When James didn’t reply, he ran a hand through his hair. “Good god. What did she say?”
Brandy now. At least he had plenty of that around his desk. James poured himself three fingers and took a sip. It burned, and he liked it.
“I’ve been drinking the foulest liquor in London for three days, Richard. What do youthinkshe said?”
His brother didn’t respond to that. He just watched James down the brandy with a look of disbelief and, almost, understanding. But it couldn't be that. Richard didn't have any comprehension of fidelity or wanting a single woman. He made certain of that by bedding as many as possible.
“James. A man doesn’t turn to drink — especially one as bloody disgusting as gin — because a woman rejected his proposal. You love her.”
James looked at him sharply. “That would be a foolish decision.”
“Ah, and yet here you are. Drunk, smelly, and foolishly in love.”
“Then no wonder I’m a mess,” James murmured, staring at his drink. “Love does terrible things to people.”
“Not everyone.” Richard’s expression was far too perceptive. “You’re thinking of Mother. Kent . . . she’s far from an ideal example. She was ill.”
James shook his head. “You were too young to remember the months between Father’s visits. When Mother was pregnant with Alexandra, he stayed away for the last six months. Do you know she refused food from the servants?” Richard slowly shook his head. “No, you wouldn’t have. Our governess made certain you kept busy in the nursery.”
“I recall some things.” Richard leaned against his desk. “I didn’t see her often then. She was always in bed.”
