Page 45 of Stealing the Rake's Heart
“What is it, Lucy?” Abigail said, her voice trembling ever so slightly.
“We should get back, Miss Atwater,” the maid replied coolly. “It looks like rain.”
Alexander glanced up at the idyllic blue skies above them and said nothing. There were afewclouds, certainly, but… he cleared his throat.
“Your maid is right, Miss Atwater. May I escort you back to the house?”
She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, a tremendous crash echoed up from somewhere below.
Biting back a curse, Alexander hurried forward out of the rose gardens, and peered down the hill.
Hamish. Of course it was Hamish. He was staggering through the maze and had knocked over a stone statue. The thing had probably stood for generations, and now its head was broken off.
“My friend,” Alexander said, apologetically. “I had better see to him.”
Abigail nodded. The three of them descended the same way anyway, and soon they reached the centre of the maze, where Hamish was ineffectually trying to slot the statue’s head back into place.
“Are you well, Lord Grey?” Abigail asked, looking anxious. “Lord Alexander, I think he’s ill.”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Alexander responded, levelling a steely glare at his friend.
The wretch is still drunk from last night,he thought, annoyed. Hamish had the grace to look ashamed, hanging his head like a drunken puppet.
“I’m so sorry, Alex,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Miss Atwater is such a nice lady, and I know you must marry, since…”
Fear spiked through Alexander’s chest.
“Yes, yes, well. I’ll take care of this, Miss Atwater, not to worry. You go on back to the house, won’t you?”
Abigail showed no signs of having heard or understood what Hamish was saying, much to Alexander’s relief. She gestured to her maid, and the two set off down the hill without another word. Alexander watched them go, hands on his hips, and breathed a sigh of relief once they were out of earshot.
Then he rounded on Hamish.
“What are you thinking of?” he hissed. “You were about to spill… to tell what I told you last night! It’s a secret, you fool!”
Hamish’s eyes widened. “What, that you won’t receive your money until you marry?”
“Hush! Don’t say it again! Oh, heavens. Who else have you told, Hamish?”
“Nobody. Nobody, I swear.”
“For your sake, I hope that’s true.”
Hamish slumped to the ground, leaning heavily back onto one of the hedges. He eyed the broken statue miserably.
“I just tripped,” he mumbled, pointing at the statue.
Alexander sank down onto a stone bench, elbows on his knees.
“Am I like this, do you think?” he wondered aloud, gesturing vaguely at Hamish and the statue. “When I’m… when I’m in my cups?”
Hamish stared at him. “You’re worse, Alex.”
He groaned. “My wretched siblings were right, then. I need to stop, don’t I?”
“I think we both do. I had an uncle who drunk himself to death. It wasn’t a pretty way to go.”
The two men sat there in silence for a few moments, staring at the statue to avoid staring at each other.
