Page 25 of Moaning Under the Mistletoe
“Oscar, come with me. My sister needs to discuss this with her lover before they decide.” He grabbed Oscar’s hand and marched out of the room. And this would give him a chance to rectify his own life.
Chapter Eleven
Oscar shouldn’t lovethe way Ambrose dragged him out of his office. He shouldn’t feel this thrill when Ambrose opened a broom cupboard and pushed him inside, then followed him, and pressed up against him in the dark.
“How can you marry Mary? You are already getting married.” His brain struggled to make sense of anything with the scent of Ambrose surrounding him; that hint of whiskey under the smooth notes of tobacco and nutmeg.
“I lost the bet in the betting book.”
He gulped, remembering that Ambrose had mentioned that. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Why doesn’t it matter?”
“It’s not that you are getting married or aren’t getting married.” He was more than a little muddled, but grateful that Ambrose hadn’t touched him yet because his proximity was sending his insides into a riot. “It’s that you told me I needed to be exclusive, and you weren’t. You didn’t mention your intentions and you expected me to uphold a standard that you weren’t keeping.”
“What are you accusing me of?” Ambrose’s soft whisper floated in the dark.
“I don’t know. Wanting something from me that you weren’t willing to do, I suppose. It made me feel small to see your upcoming marriage in writing. You have this whole life away from me, and it reminded me that this was just temporary and didn’t mean anything to you.” He didn’t really care if they were going to be exclusive, at least not at the beginning, since he’d had no intention of doing that when it was just a bit of fun. He’d gone along with it because Ambrose had defined it as something he needed, and then to find out that he’d been lying was a punch in the guts.
“Oscar Mardin. Listen very carefully.”
His mouth went dry and he licked his lips, waiting as his stomach dropped to his shoes.
“All my life I’ve been trained to be the Earl of Bennington. It is my duty to marry and provide an heir for the Earldom.”
Oscar couldn’t give a flying rat’s ass about the Earldom. It was no justification for lying to him about needing him to be exclusive. “But don’t you have several brothers? Why can’t they inherit?”
Ambrose’s gasp was audible. “I do. Oh, I’m a fool. Of course, they could. Have I told you how much I love you and admire your keen intelligence and your wonderful, wonderful smile. A lot of trouble could have been avoided if I’d simply questioned the notion that I was the one who needed to provide the heir.”
Oscar’s knees went weak. Not only was that more words than Ambrose usually said, but he loved him? “You love me?”
“Yes. Most ardently.”
“Well, this is a right mess then, isn’t it?”
Ambrose leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Oscar’s. “Yes.”
