Page 36 of Stealing the Rake's Heart
William made sure the door was securely closed, then turned to face the other two. He folded his arms tightly across his chest, gaze travelling over the room. He missed nothing, focusing on the mostly-empty bottle of whiskey.
“Did you take that from the cabinet, Lord Grey?” he asked, slowly and pointedly.
Hamish gulped. “I… I did. I do apologise, your Grace. I only meant to sample it, but… but things got out of hand. It’s a delicious whiskey.”
“It was our father’s,” William snarled. “He kept it for close two decades, and then you come along and drink it.”
The blood drained from Hamish’s face. “Oh, oh. I am so truly sorry. I cannot apologise enough…”
“No, you can’t.”
“I’ll pay twice the value of the whiskey,” Hamish began, but Alexander interrupted him.
“Why do you say that as if it has any significance, William?” he demanded, getting to his feet. “I am not excusing Hamish’s behaviour, butIhave made a fool of myself more than once with drink. So has Henry, in fact,andKatherine.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“You miss my point. Why should we care if Hamish drinks Father’s whiskey? We hated the man, or have you forgotten?”
William flinched. “Don’t speak so thoughtlessly. He was still our father. Where are your filial feelings?”
Alexander gave a bark of laughter. “Filial feelings? Oh, what a laugh. Don’t you remember the time Katherine and I took a sip of brandy from a leftover glass at the table? It was silly childishness, no more than a single sip each. And father was so angry he poured us both a large cup of whiskey each, and forced us to drink until we were sick?”
Hamish sucked in a breath. William’s expression tightened.
“That’s irrelevant.”
“I was ill for days,” Alexander snapped. “I was a child. Barely ten years old, if I recall. Father said it would teach us a lesson, and I suppose it did. He was a cruel man, and if Hamish wants to drink his whiskey, why should we care?”
There was a tap on the door before William could respond.
“Your Grace? My lord?” came a footman’s quavering voice. “Lord Grey’s room is ready. Should we help him to his bed?”
“Yes, yes, for heaven’s sake, get the man out of here,” William snarled, glowering at Hamish.
Hamish hung his head.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, and it wasn’t clear whether he was talking to Alexander or William.
The door creaked open, and the two footmen scurried in. Taking an arm each, they helped Hamish to his feet, and walked him to the door.
“I’ll mix you up a special drink in the morning,” Eric whispered. “Cook swears by it. You’ll feel like death, and the drink will taste vile, but it’ll work.”
“Thank you,” Hamish mumbled, and then the door closed behind them and the two brothers were alone.
Silence grew heavy between them.
“I don’t have many friends,” Alexander said at last. “But I have Hamish. He’s been with me through thick and thin. I trust him. I care for him. He’s not perfect, and I intend to have strong words with him about his behaviour tonight, but really, what damage has been done?”
William pressed his lips together in a thin line. He moved over to the fireplace, staring into the empty grate.
“I think it’s best that you go to bed, too,” he said, after a full minute of silence.
Alexander flinched. “But the ball’s not over.”
“Are you telling me that you are enjoying yourself?”
He flushed. “Not particularly, but Mother will be hurt if I leave now. I know she will.”
