Her cheeks began to burn. Thank God the light was dim. She took a moment to steady herself. “I want you, too.”
“Well,” Matt commented drily, “I’m glad we’ve settled that.” He glanced out the window. “We have arrived.”
The coach rolled to a smooth halt and a footman opened the door. Dotty withdrew her hands from Dom’s. Once they were in the hall, it was clear his burst of energy had begun to fade.
“Dominic,” Lady Merton said, “go on to bed.”
He shook his head. “But Worthington and Thea.”
Though Dotty could not approve of overindulging in drink, it certainly brought out another side of her betrothed. “We are leaving. I shall see you tomorrow.”
He weaved just a bit. “If you’re sure?”
Sleep would be the best thing for him. “I’m positive.” She watched as a footman assisted him up the stairs. “Well, that was illuminating.”
Lady Merton’s countenance was awash with anger. “If Alasdair was still alive, I would kill him. Imagine telling a young child not to go to his mother, then keeping his friends away. No wonder Dominic was so lost when my brother died. He probably didn’t feel as if he had anyone else.”
“Well, he’s defying his uncle by marrying Dotty,” Matt said, apparently deciding levity was called for.
She fought down the blush as she remembered Dom’s words in the carriage. “Very true.”
“Merton’s going to have a devil of a head in the morning.” Matt turned to Lady Merton. “I can send over a recipe if you don’t have one. It will make even a dead man feel better.”
She pulled a face. “Please do. We have one. I gave it to him earlier. However, it does not seem to have worked very well. After seeing him earlier, I honestly do not know how he managed to get up.”
“And dress,” Dotty added. “He appeared as if he had done it without his valet. I wonder how that happened.”
* * *
Dom was awake, but when he tried to open his eyes, the lids wouldn’t cooperate. A bird made a loud racket outside his window, adding to his aching head, and his mouth felt like someone had stuffed dirty rags into it. He cast back in his mind for the reason he felt so badly. Ah, brandy. His uncle had warned him about it. Apparently, he’d not listened.
“Kimbal.”
Long moments passed, and the man didn’t answer. “Kimbal,” he tried saying a little louder. His door opened. “I want Kimbal.”
“I’ll be right back, my lord.” The door closed. He would have to speak to his butler about the footman slamming the door.
A few minutes later, Paken entered. “Yes, my lord.”
Dom finally got his eyes open. Luckily the chamber was devoid of bright light. Although it must be late in the morning for that bird to be so cheery. “Where the devil is Kimbal?”
A smug expression briefly graced Paken’s face.
Why was it he had servants that let you know what they were thinking, when Worthington’s wouldn’t crack a smile?
“You sacked him, my lord. Your new valet will arrive within the hour.”
Fired Kimbal? What had Dom been thinking? Actually, to be honest, he had wanted to get rid of the tyrant for a while, but his uncle refused to allow it.
A footman entered with a tray he set on the side table.
“My lord”—Paken picked up a large mug—“if you’ll drink this first, you will begin feeling better.”
At this point, Dom would try anything, especially with that damn bird outside. Having a vague recollection of how bad it tasted, he held his breath and downed it, but it wasn’t as horrible as the stuff last night. “Coffee.”
A cup was placed in his hands. “Thank you.” He took a sip, savoring the heat and slight bitterness. He may as well know the worst. “Tell me what happened.”
“You came through with flying colors, my lord. You even managed to attend the ball.”
