Page 34 of Stealing the Rake's Heart
She inclined her head, not seeming offended in the least.
“Of course. I’m sure we shall see each other again soon, your Grace. Very soon,” she added, and those were the words that rang in William’s head as he hurried away.
Chapter Ten
Alexander entered the library just in time to see Hamish vomit into a large antique urn. A pair of them had stood by the fireplace for years, although he suspected that from now on, there would only be one.
The urn was being held by a panicked-looking footman, a man that Alexander vaguely recognized as Eric.
Relief swept through the young man’s face when he saw Alexander.
“Oh, your lordship, there you are! The butler and James went off to fetch his Grace. The gentleman is ill, I think. We should call a doctor, shouldn’t we?”
Alexander put his hands on his hips, glaring down at his friend.
“He doesn’t need a doctor. He needs a bucket of cold water over his head and a good slapping, I think.”
Groaning, Hamish rolled onto a sofa, dropping his forearm over his eyes.
“It’s so devilishly bright in here, isn’t it?”
“Not particularly,” Alexander muttered, eyeing the feeble candles. “There isn’t even a fire. How did you get into this state?”
By way of answer, Hamish held up a bottle of whiskey.
At least, ithadbeen a bottle of whiskey. There was less than a third left, and Alexander had the feeling it had been full before Hamish got his hands on it. Not to mention whatever the wretched man had drunk before he started on the whiskey. Wine, punch, and champagne, no doubt.
“You can leave us, Eric,” Alexander addressed the footman. “I shall take care of this. Don’t let any guests come in here, of course.”
The man bowed. “As you say, your lordship.”
“Leave the urn,” Hamish spoke up, face still hidden under his arm. “My stomach feels a little strange still. Probably that cream-cheese pudding thing I ate.”
Alexander gave a bark of laughter. “The pudding? Oh, you fool, it’s nothing of the sort. You’ve drunk entirely too much. You’re no longer in your cups, you’re steeped in your flagons.”
“Nicely put. I do feel ill, though. Don’t be unkind to me.”
“You deserve for me to be unkind to you.”
Alexander sat down at the foot of the sofa with a sigh. His head was pounding, he felt sick himself, and his ears were ringing with the noise and laughter in the other rooms. The noise was muffled here, but he could stillhearit. And if he went back into the ballroom, Diana would be there. Waiting for him.
“Do you remember Diana?” Alexander asked at last, after the silence had trailed on for too long. “From before she was married, that is?”
It was relative silence, of course. There was chatter, laughter, and music from the distant ballroom, of course, as well as Hamish’s self-indulgent groans and mutterings, and even the loud, genteel ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner.
“Of course I do,” Hamish answered. “She chased you with a great determination, I recall. I was quite sure she’d catch you. But then she caught a gentleman of greater wealth. You can’t possibly be thinking of her.”
“I’m not, I just…”
Hamish removed his arm, fixing his friend with a bleary but unblinking stare.
“She jilted you carelessly,” he said firmly. “You had an understanding. She knew how you loved her. She made you believe she loved you, too. And then she threw you over for a greater prize. I remember the pain you went through, Alexander. Don’t treat me like a fool. If you believe I’ll sit here and watch you endure that again, you’re mad. I’m your friend. I cannot allow it.”
Alexander bit his lower lip hard, staring down at his hands, entwined in his lap.
“But I want to be wed.”
“Then marry,” Hamish responded. “You’re handsome, charming, and rich. You have a reputation as a bit of a rake, but not a desperate flirt. Ladies like a reformed rake, after all. You don’t need to marry this Season, though, do you?”
