Page 53 of An Offer for a Spinster
It felt as though Katherine had barely put her head on the pillow before a huge crash downstairs had her jerking awake again.
She sat bolt upright, blinking in the pre-dawn gloom of her bedroom, trying to work out what, exactly, had happened.
The masquerade had gone on long past midnight. William had felt ill, and gone home early in the night, and she had never been able to find Timothy again. That should not have bothered her as much as it did. She had arrived home shortly before one in the morning, exhausted, miserable, and hollow.
The hollow feeling did not stand up to scrutiny. Whenever she asked herself why, exactly, she felt so hollow, it was as if her brain shied away from it. And now here she was, bleary-eyed, exhausted, and not entirely sure if the noise was part of a dream or not.
It was not. The crash came again, followed by an angry voice. Swinging her legs out of bed, Katherine pulled on a dressing-gown and hurried downstairs.
It was easy enough to find the source of the noise.
Alexander lay in the foyer, his white domino suit stained and torn in places. His arms and legs were spread out, like a puppet with the strings cut. An upturned table lay beside him, with a broken vase spread across the floor. The butler, a robe tied tightly around him, was holding up a candle over the miserable scene, looking unsure as to what to do next.
Henry stood over his brother, face red, looking purely furious. He glanced up, briefly meeting Katherine’s eye.
“He’s drunk,” Henry said, somewhat unnecessarily. “He got drunk at the masquerade, and then he went to a club and drank more. I had to drag him out.”
“You’re no fun, Henry,” Alexander slurred. “Why can’t I be happy?”
“I don’t want to stop you from being happy, fool,” Henry snapped. “I just don’t want you to have your reputation ruined. Get up, can’t you? I want to go to bed, and I can’t until you’re settled.”
Alexander did not seem to hear him. His head rolled back onto the cold floor tiles with a nastybang. Swallowing hard, Katherine hurried down the rest of the stairs.
“Get something to go underneath his head. No, wait, a glass of water,” she said, and the butler moved at once. “Henry, let’s try and bring him round. If he vomits now, he might choke on it.”
Henry’s lip curled. “I can’t believe he’s gotten himself into this state. What would he have done if I wasn’t there?”
“Don’t think about that now.”
“How can I think of anything else? He’s always been a bit of a fool, but never like this. I can’t keep doing this, Kat.”
“You’re his brother,” she said shortly. “What else should you do?”
That was the wrong thing to say. Henry’s pride had always been prickly, and now he was tired, angry, and upset. He recoiled, glaring at her.
“If you’re going to be like that, I suppose I should just let you get on with it,” he snapped. “I’ll go to bed.”
He stamped towards the stairs and was halfway up by the time he finally paused, glancing down.
Katherine watched him, too tired to argue.
“I don’t want to fight,” she said quietly. “But really, what else are we to do? We can have a serious word with Alexander later, but not now. It’s pointless, now. And I can’t get him upstairs by myself. I need your help.”
Henry’s shoulders sagged.
“Alright,” he muttered. “I’ll help. But you must talk to him.”
“I’ll do my best. Perhaps we should tell William about this.”
“Will? Ha. He’s not much help these days.”
“Leave him be, Henry. William has a lot to think about.”
“And the rest of us don’t?”
That was an excellent point, and Katherine fell silent.
Between the two of them, they got Alexander more or less up onto his feet, and slowly, step by step, they climbed the stairs. The butler followed behind with a jug of a water and a glass, looking anxious.
