AllFreeNovel
Share Us
HENRY STAGGERED OUT of White’s, listing like a rudderless ship, insensate to the chill rain pelting his bent head and bowed shoulders.
His carriage pulled up, and the footman opened the door.
Straightening, Henry advanced with purpose—and banged the top of his head against the doorframe. Clutching his skull, he released a stream of invective and clumsily dragged himself the rest of the way up onto the plush squabs.
“My lord?” the footman inquired, concerned for the trickle of crimson running down his master’s forehead.
Having at the moment no tolerance for being fussed over like a wayward child, Henry reached out and grabbed for the door, intending to snatch it shut. In his haste, however, he overreached and tumbled out of the vehicle, headfirst, into the street.
Several passersby laughed outright at the sight of his high and mighty lordship wallowing in the gutter.
Henry groaned, partly due to the pain blossoming in his head, partly due to the smell emanating from the muck now covering the majority of his person, but mostly due to a distant sense of humiliation. This would be all over London by morning.
Carefully bracing himself on the footplate, he stood and removed his soiled cloak, tossing it on the floor of the carriage before clambering in after it. This time, he allowed the footman to assist him and close the door behind him.
His once-shiny boots were now covered in mud, manure, and heaven only knew what else. With great difficulty and much cursing, he removed one and emptied it of the foul liquid it contained, forgetting for the moment that he was inside his carriage.
Cursing yet again, he thumped the roof to signal the driver. As the vehicle lurched into motion, he prayed he made it home without adding further to the stink in here—or his own humiliation.
Tonight had been the worst yet. Unable to find rest, he’d ventured down to the club, knowing Percy would not be there, as he was escorting his fiancée to the Yardley ball.
The thought was enough to make his stomach threaten to turn itself inside out—again.
A few rounds of cards, yes. A pleasant distraction. That was what he’d needed. A laugh or two, yes. And a pipe. And a drink.
Perhaps several.
A complete disaster.
He’d done this to himself. He’d brought a cat in to chase off a mouse, and the cat had unwittingly bitten him instead. It wasn’t Percy’s fault. After all, the man had asked him several times about his feelings for her, and he’d denied any sentiment other than a desire to protect her. He should have told the truth from the beginning and not been such a coward.
He’d lost her.
And now she was marrying his friend. She would get exactly what she’d told him she wanted.
At least she’ll be safe from Fairford, he reasoned. And Percy would be good to her. As good as she expected, anyway.
It was small comfort in the face of the misery he was currently experiencing, but at this particular juncture, he would take what comfort he could.
Finally, blessedly, they reached their destination. Two footmen helped Henry out, managing to haul him halfway up the steps before he shook them off. After stumbling and bruising his shins twice, he finally allowed them to help him the rest of the way into the house.
Looking utterly dismayed, his valet took his ruined cloak. His eyes widened as he noticed one of Henry’s boots was missing. “M’lord?”
“Not now, Watkins,” Henry slurred, batting the man’s hands away as he pitched toward the bed.
“But, my lord! You cannot go to bed in your present state!”
The note of hysteria in his voice made Henry stop. He looked down at himself. God, he stank! The odor emanating from his fouled garments was absolutely astonishing. They would have to be burned.
Thirty minutes later, he sat in the tub, watching curls of steam roll off the surface of the water. The scent of soap mingled with the strong, acrid smell of coffee as Watkins brought him another cup. Gratefully, he took it.
“M’lord?”
Wearily, Henry turned to face his inquisitor.
“Forgive my presumption, but wouldn’t it be better to busy yourself elsewhere for a while?” he suggested delicately. “Paris, perhaps?”
Henry shook his head, wincing at the sharp pain it caused. There was no such thing as a secret in London. Servants always knew. “I shall remain in London until after the wedding.”
