“One minute, my lord,” an elderly groom said. “We’ll have them harnessed before you know it.”
Dom nodded. Once he and Thea were married he would explain it to her. Maybe it would be better if he visited a mistress rather than risk . . . risk what? Experiencing passion with his wife? The thought of another woman disgusted him. Not only that, but it would hurt Thea. No. Better to deny himself. After he explained his family’s history to her surely she would understand that they could not fallinlove with one another. She had to. Love for one’s family was well and good, but the unfettered passion of a love match—he shuddered—was dangerous.
A few moments later, he was in his curricle. He reached his stables sooner than he’d thought he would. Using the garden gate and the back door, he went directly to his study and poured a glass of brandy. It burned as it touched his tongue and made its way down his throat.
Refilling his glass, he tossed it off, giving a mirthless laugh. “Here’s to you, Uncle Alasdair. To save my family, I will do exactly as you taught me.”
“My lord, are you all right?”
Dom tried to open his eyes, but the flickering light blinded him and a sharp pain speared his head. “Get that damned thing away from me.”
The footman, or at least that’s who he thought it was, moved away.
Some time later, a hushed voice intruded on his sleep. “Boosey, he is.”
“Nonsense, his lordship is never in his altitudes. He must be ill.”
“If you say so, Mr. Paken, but that brandy decanter was full this afternoon.”
“Good Lord.”
The door closed quietly, and Dom was left by himself again. He really should go upstairs and dress. Kimbal would wonder where he’d got to. Mustn’t upset one’s valet. Although why Uncle Alasdair cared more for the valet than any other servant, Dom didn’t know. Always had to tell Kimbal where he was going.
Dom must have drifted off again. When he awoke, the room was pitch dark. The door opened and he closed his eyes against the light, covering them with his arm.
Soft, firm footsteps approached him. “Oh my.”His mother. “You will have to see if Cook remembers the remedy. He’ll need it when he finally awakens. Get a couple of strong footmen and take him up to his chamber. They will probably have to help his valet undress him.”
He didn’t need help. He was perfectly capable of doing it himself. He tried to rise and rolled, landing on the floor, and hitting his head.
Ow.Damn, that hurt.
“Do you think he’s going to cast up his accounts, my lady?”
“I certainly hope not. Bradford men can hold their brandy better than that. Just get him upstairs.”
“Yes, my lady.”
When Dom woke again, he was in his bed, sinking down into the soft mattress.
“I told Lord Alasdair when he hired me I could not work in a household where drunken licentiousness occurred.” Kimbal’s shrill tone made Dom wince.
He opened his mouth to protest and some vile liquid was poured down his throat. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Don’t worry, my lord. It will make you feel better,” his butler said calmly. What was Paken doing in Dom’s chamber? He felt fine now and there was nothing dissolute about it. Although, he might like to be licentious with Thea.
Sniff.
“Then mayhap you’d like to find yourself a different employer,” Paken replied.
“I do not work for you, Mr. Paken.”Sniff. “I will discuss this with his lordship in the morning.”
“You do that, Mr. Kimbal, and call for more of the remedy when his lordship wakes.”
Blast it all, he was awake. The mattress refused to let him go. Maybe not for long.
“When Lord Alasdair was alive . . .”
“Well, he’s not here any longer and even though I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, we are well rid of him. Speaking badly of his lordship’s father like he did and not allowing his name to be mentioned is something I don’t hold with. A better master there never was.”
