Page 59 of Stealing the Rake's Heart
“What on earth is going on out there?” Alexander said, even though he was not meant to speak a single word once he had read the prompt.
By way of answer, the drawing room door barreled open and a man collapsed inside, making the ladies nearest to the door leap to their feet and shriek.
The minute-glass ran out, and Alexander dropped the prompt.
Chapter Eighteen
The awful sinking feeling made Alexander feel as if he’d swallowed his heart.
The piece of paper he’d picked out of the hat – he was sure Abigail would guess it, as it was the title of her favourite play,Much Ado About Nothing.He’d already planned how he would act it out, clowning around and making her laugh.
And then there was that horrible noise, the door banged open, and who should stumble inside but Hamish.
Poor, wretched Hamish, who’d obviously convinced one of the more impressionable servants to get him some alcohol one way or another.
Stupid Hamish, who was quite clearly drunk again.
He came stumbling into the room, grubby and unshaven and stinking of alcohol, his shirt untucked and undone at the neck, a large, unpleasant-looking stain of something on the thigh of one of his trouser legs. He was wearing dancing slippers, for some reason, and they were too loose on him, slapping against his feet with every step. His hair stuck straight up, and one glance at his slack face and reddened, bleary eyes told them all that he was – to put it politely – not himself.
“So this is where the party’s at,” Hamish slurred, grinning absently at the young debutante, Lord Donovan’s partner. The girl shrank back, glancing about her for her mother.
“Lord Grey,” William said sharply, stepping in front of Hamish. “You are not yourself. You are quite clearly in your cups, which is entirely inappropriate for a gathering like this, and certainly not proper in the presence of ladies. You’ll be so good as to remove yourself at once.”
Hamish blinked lazily at him, and Alexander’s heart sank further.
He recognized that look. He’d seen it on Hamish and other friends before, and he’d experienced it himself. It was the level of drunkenness where a person could no longer function properly. It was beyond dizziness and vomiting. Hamish would not – could not – listen to reason. He likely could nothearanything, and was only clutching to some odd, preconceived idea of what was going on, fueled by whiskey-addled senses. It could be a dangerous thing, too. Even the mildest men could lash out at a time like this. Alexander swallowed hard, pushing in between William and Hamish.
If Hamish was going to strike anyone – he’d never hit anyone before, but there was a first occasion for anything – he was jolly well going to hit Alexander instead of William.
“Hamish, old boy, I thought you were in bed,” Alexander said, with forced joviality. “You said you were tired, and not feeling well. Do you think you have a fever?”
He moved as if to lay a hand on Hamish’s forehead. It was a mistake. Hamish knocked his hand away with an audibleslap, and a shocked gasp ran around the room.
Hamish rounded on the other guests, glaring balefully.
“Oh, and what are you all looking at, with your stupid, blank faces? Like you’ve never had one tipple too many.”
“No, I have not,” Lord Donovan remarked acidly. Alexander glared at him.
Now is not the time to be snide, you fool!
Hamish made a few tottering steps towards Lord Donovan, who paled and shrank back into his seat. However, Hamish’s balance was not faring well, and he wobbled sideways, arms flailing to catch himself. He knocked against one of the sideboards, making the most horrible clatter, and a tall vase set on one of the shelves began to rock.
Alexander knew what was happening before it did. The vase had gone past the point of no return, and rocked slowly to and fro before giving up altogether. Toppling down from the high shelf, Alexander watched it fall, noting miserably that it had been a present from his grandmother to his mother.
Crash. The vase shattered into a hundred pieces, small bits of porcelain showering the skirts of a nearby woman. She darted away with a gasp, shaking her dress to dislodge any remaining pieces.
“Oops,” Hamish mumbled, smiling blearily around. “That was an accident. Alex, tell them it was an accident? Alex and me, we’re friends. Good friends. We know all each other’s secrets, just as friends should.”
Alexander stiffened. He glanced briefly over at William, whose face was white. He didnotlook at his younger brother.
“Hamish, why don’t you let me walk you out?” Alexander tried again. He generally had no trouble marshalling a drunk Hamish in their various pubs and clubs, but here, in the quiet gentility of his mother’s drawing room, things felt very different.
Hamish glowered at him. “Am I embarrassing you, Alexander?”
“You are embarrassing yourself, sir,” William rapped out. Hamish turned his vague glare onto him.
Alexander bit the inside of his cheek.You aren’t helping, Will.
