Percy tapped a finger against the rim of his glass. “Tell me, do you regret this charming little scheme of yours? The one where you decided to irritate half the House of Lords by marrying the first woman who looked vaguely suitable?”
Heath scoffed. “It was not merely out of spite. You know it.”
“No?” Percy arched a brow. “Then pray, enlighten me.”
Heath swirled the whiskey absently, watching the way the liquid caught the candlelight. “I have never wanted to waste my life drowning in excess. Balls, scandals, pointless affairs—it is all nonsense. I wanted…” He hesitated, then exhaled. “Something more, I guess.”
Percy studied him for a moment, smirking. “Something more. And has marriage granted you this elusive fulfillment?”
Heath leaned back, shaking his head. “I don’t know if it has. But I know the plan itself matters less now than it did before.”
Percy barked a laugh. “God help me, you are growing sentimental.”
Heath scoffed, taking a slow sip. “Hardly.”
Percy’s grin widened. “And yet, here you are, contemplating your choices as though they were some grand philosophical dilemma.”
Heath rolled his eyes. “I do not spend my nights drowning in whiskey anymore, Percy.” He shot him a pointed look. “Perhaps you ought to consider doing the same.”
Percy chuckled, sipping his drink. “Ah, now you’re lecturing me.”
Heath smirked. “I am serious.”
Percy sighed dramatically, swirling his drink with exaggerated amusement. “I am perfectly content with my life as it is.”
Heath studied him for a long moment. “Your contentment is debatable.”
Percy huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he lazily swirled the whiskey in his glass. “You’re climbing atop your moral high horse rather suddenly, aren’t you?”
Heath exhaled, leaning back in his chair, his fingers curling absently around the rim of his drink. “Perhaps I have simply come to my senses.”
Percy smirked, taking a slow sip before tilting his head. “Come to your senses, have you? And what, precisely, inspired such a revelation? Surely not matrimony.”
Heath chuckled under his breath, but there was something thoughtful in the gesture, something measured. “I have spent years indulging in meaningless excess. At some point, a man must wonder whether it has any merit at all.”
Percy arched a brow, though something was flickering beneath his usual amusement—something unreadable. “And yet, of all men, you should understand why I drink.”
A beat, a pause just heavy enough to linger.
Heath studied him for a moment, his eyes sharp but steady. “A woman abandoning you doesn’t excuse your laziness, Percy.”
The humor in Percy’s expression dulled, not absent but edged now with something more restrained, more careful.
He scoffed, exhaling through his nose as he leaned further back. “Can’t argue with that.”
Then, with mock contemplation, he added, “You know if I did not find your wife so tolerable, I would return her husband with a fine bruise across his jaw for that remark.”
Heath chuckled, shaking his head. “She would probably thank you for it.”
Percy hummed, watching Heath over the rim of his glass. “Though, I wonder if she would have accepted your charming proposal so readily if that rake of a father of hers hadn’t mysteriously vanished.”
The air shifted between them after that statement, not drastically, but enough.
Heath’s grip on his drink tightened slightly, though his expression remained unreadable. “Rake or not, he’s still her father. And he’s still alive—supposedly.” A pause. “He owes her an explanation.”
Percy tilted his head, studying him. “That almost sounded like concern, Your Grace.”
Heath exhaled through his nose, settling his glass onto the table with deliberate ease. “She is defending a man who may very well have vanished without a thought for the consequences.”
