“I know, my lord,” he said in a hollow voice.
“Do I pay you enough, Felton?”
Startled, Felton said, “Your lordship is most generous. I have no complaints about my remuneration.”
“I’m glad I pay you enough to put up with me, then,” said Emrys, rising and stretching. He shook his head, dislodging some of Felton’s carefully arranged curls.
“If you won’t consider pantaloons, my lord, would you at least consider purchasing some jackets and waistcoats that fit your trimmer figure? I have done what I can with your breeches, my lord, but I’m no tailor, and the jackets and waistcoats are beyond me.”
Emrys looked down at his flatter stomach, running a hand over it. “I suppose so. I hadn’t really noticed. This slimmer me seems to be the new normal version. But I won’t purchase coats so tight you have to use a shoehorn to get me into them, mind.”
“Of course not, my lord.”
Emrys smiled and accepted the neckcloth Felton handed to him and attempted to tie the damned thing with a bit more precision than usual. He would never master the art of the cravat, he was sure. Dressed in one of his ill-fitting waistcoats and jackets and his rather scuffed boots, despite Felton’s best efforts with the bootblack, he reflected that the least he could do for Annis was pay a bit more attention to his wardrobe, and he resolved to pay a visit to Scott and Hoby.
Some time later, having spent an hour with his delighted tailor, he headed toward Hoby in St James’s to purchase some new boots and ran into the duke.
“Turning fashionable, Emrys, or did Felton threaten to resign unless you chopped it off?” said the duke, referring to his hair cut.
“Neither.”
“Ah, then I detect the influence of Annis.”
Emrys shook his head. “Annis likes my hair long. But you’re right—I did it for her. She is making strides to be fashionable and look the part of the viscountess; I don’t want to embarrass her by being shabby next to her. I’m heading to Hoby now to get some new boots.”
“I’ll come with you,” the duke said, falling into step with him. “Sarah mentioned she had both Annis and Deb at the dressmakers. Must have been quite a day. I know Sarah was tired after it.”
“Yes, Annis was, too. There are a dashed lot of bits that go into a lady’s toilette. Makes it damned tricky to get her out of all those layers.”
Rob grinned but didn’t comment.
After finishing with Hoby, the two men headed to Gentleman Jackson’s, where the duke was in the habit of practicing the pugilistic art regularly.
Emrys consented to go a couple of rounds with him and enjoyed it so much he resolved to continue the practice. After that, they repaired to their club for a meal.
Cutting into his steak, Rob said casually, “You look happy.”
Emrys sipped his wine and nodded. “I am. Annis is the perfect wife I never knew I needed.”
Rob nodded and said quietly, “I’m glad. No one deserves happiness more than you.”
“Well, I fancy I’m not the only one.” Emrys forked up some mashed potato and gravy with a quizzical look across the table.
Rob flushed faintly. “I am exceedingly happy. In fact”—he stopped and picked up his glass of wine—“you can be the first to congratulate me. We’re not making it public yet, but—”
“Sarah is expecting?”
Robert grinned and raised his glass to the one Emrys offered. “She is, and I couldn’t be happier. I’m so looking forward to it.”
Emrys nodded. “It is the best feeling in the world to hold them for the first time. Be warned, you will fall in love instantly and worry yourself into a frenzy about them for the rest of your life. Nothing will be the same again.”
“I know. I cannot wait,” confessed the starchy duke, already looking the very picture of a doting father.
They finished their meal and repaired to the billiard room for a game. This led to a card game or two, and it was in the card room that they were joined by the Marquess of Ravenshaw.
He started at the sight of Emrys’s shorn head. “Good God, Ashford, I thought you were someone else. What brought this on?”
“His new wife,” said the duke with a smirk.
