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“Your brother awaits you in your study,” the butler said.
A smile broke across Ashley’s face. “I imagine he’s sampling my best whiskey?”
Wilkins smiled, then added glibly, “Not since I removed all the decanters upon his arrival, Your Grace. You should be aware that he partook of more than his share of spirits before he arrived.”
His brother had never been one for taking spirits in moderation. Ashley chuckled. “That bad, is he?”
“Worse, Your Grace,” Wilkins said, nodding his head slightly.
“Oh,” Ashley said as he turned and held up a finger. “Did you have any luck finding a suitable governess for Anne?”
The man sighed. “Unfortunately, no. The agency refuses to send another of their applicants. Not after what happened the last time.”
Ashley tried to remember. “Remind me of what happened last time.”
“Lady Anne set the governess’s hair on fire. On purpose.”
“Oh, yes. I remember. There was a stench for days.” Wilkins’s lip curled as he obviously remembered the same smell. “Are there other agencies you can try?”
“I’ll keep looking.”
“Thank you.” Ashley smiled as he walked down the corridor and turned the corner to enter his study. There, seated in a deep leather chair, was his younger brother, Lord Phineas, or Finn, as his friends called him. “I heard a rumor that you were in my study and that evasive maneuvers had to be taken to keep you out of my stock,” Ashley said, extending his hand.
Finn rose to his feet unsteadily, grasping for the arm of his chair as he lost his balance. The man looked positively miserable, his eyes rimmed with red, his face blotchy and pale. “Ah, yes. But he forgot the bottle you keep in your private stash,” Finn said as he held up a glass, lisping a little on the last word.
Of course, his brother would feel free to invade his private space at will. Never one to mince words, Ashley said, “You look like hell.”
“I feel like hell,” Finn grumbled back.
“Dare I ask what the matter is? It’s a bit early in the day to be so deep in your cups.” He urged his brother to sit before he toppled over. He was nearly as big as Ashley, so it would take at least two footmen to bring him back upright.
“Oh, I had a bit more enjoyment than I’d planned,” Finn groaned as he adjusted himself in the chair.
Ashley sat behind his desk and steepled his hands in front of him, waiting for the man to tell him what the matter was. It didn’t take as long as he thought for his brother to unburden himself.
“Do you remember the chit I set up in Mayfair?”
“Vaguely.” If Ashley remembered correctly, there was nothing truly remarkable about the girl.
“She’s up and left me.”
“And?” Certainly, worse things could happen to a man. Like being shunned for killing one’s wife.
“And she started a bit of a rumor.”
“About?”
“My lack of physical attributes and attention to her needs,” Finn mumbled.
Ashley tried to hide his chuckle behind a cough into his closed fist.
“It’s not amusing,” Finn pointed out.
“Certainly, it is,” Ashley said, laughing a bit louder.
“How do you deal with it? The whispers behind your back? The constant judgment from your peers?”
Ashley shrugged. “One becomes accustomed to it with time.” He’d had seven years to learn to accept his lot in life. The only time it rankled was when he met a lady like Miss Thorne. Then he wished he was anyone but himself.
