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Chapter 13
“Well, you’re stronger than I thought,” Marcus said, laughing.
“How can you say that when I’m losing this? Miserably?” Mr Blake asked as Marcus pushed his hand down to the table surface. They had long since finished dinner and were having their after-dinner drinks whilst sharing an arm wrestle. Something that Mr Blake was losing, and Marcus was winning easily.
“You managed to hold your own for a short while,” Marcus said as he sat back on the table and beckoned a footman over, who quickly delivered them two fresh glasses of port to sip from.
“Would you two gentlemen care to partake in cigars this evening?” the servant asked, looking between the two of them.
“Not for me, thank you,” Marcus said. “But my companion might.”
Mr Blake looked up with a frown, looking between the two of them.
“Ah…” Marcus said, leaning forward a little. “Have we discovered something else you have not done before?”
“We have,” Mr Blake said with a smile. “I have never smoked in my life.”
“Well, would you like to give it a go?” Marcus asked. “It is not something I particularly like, but a lot of people do. I find it takes one’s breath away. In a very bad way!”
“I guess I am giving all sorts of new things a try. Why not?”
“Very good, sir,” the server said, bowing to them both. “I will bring one over shortly.”
“Will I regret this?” Mr Blake asked in a whisper, leaning toward Marcus as though it were a great secret.
“I regretted my one and only taste, but I cannot tell you if you will regret yours.”
A minute later, the cigar was delivered to Mr Blake and lit. The whole time, Marcus watched Mr Blake with an amused grin that he tried to hide behind his glass.
“You are staring at me rather intently,” Mr Blake said, hesitating before taking the first puff on the cigar.
“Apologies,” Marcus said with a snigger. “I am clearly curious as to what your reaction will be.” Mr Blake offered a mocking glare before placing his lips over the cigar and taking a puff.
Marcus grew somewhat distracted by watching the simple action. His mind went back to Lady Violette, who looked so like Mr Blake, thinking of the woman who had looked up at him from behind that piano. His mind went somewhere rather alluring, thinking of those same delicate lips in Lady Violette’s features and imagining what it could be like to kiss them. The reaction was instantly sensual, making him shift in his seat uncomfortably and berate himself for being distracted so.
Mr Blake started coughing heartily and lowered the cigar from his mouth, discarding it quickly into the porcelain tray between them.
“I see you dislike it as much as I do,” Marcus said, chuckling before reaching out and slapping his friend on the back, trying to help him clear his lungs.
“Why do people like this thing?” he asked, his voice strained from coughing so. “I never want to do that again.” His eyes had tearing up from the strain of the smoke.
“My sentiments exactly,” Marcus said, pushing the little tray away, so neither of them had to smell the smoke again. He gestured to one of the servers nearby to come and take it away, who promptly did so. “Maybe partaking in what all gentlemen do in London is not such a good idea?”
“Maybe not,” Mr Blake said, coughing one last time. “I think I’ll stick to the port,” he said, before lifting the small glass beside him to his lips and sipping eagerly from it. Marcus laughed heartily and leaned toward his friend over the table.
“I’m going to miss this.”
“Miss what?” he said, looking at him over the port glass.
“This,” he said, gesturing between the two of them. “This freedom, this happiness, this laughter. In two days, I will have to return home again and play at being the next Marquess.”
“Play? You make it sound rather like you’re an actor on stage, or a child pretending to be something they’re not when they run around the garden.”
“It’s rather how I feel I suppose,” Marcus said, sitting back in his chair again. “I’m reluctant to go home, but I know I have no choice. And there I will not have you to distract me from those woes.”
It was a true confession. In the matter of a few days, Mr Blake had somehow become a very close friend indeed. Marcus had even gone as far as telling him about his father and losing his brother, things that he didn’t even speak openly about with Walter on occasion— how odd of a thing that was! To trust this gentleman before him so much and be so at ease to tell him everything.
“I guess, Mr Blake, I want you to know how much this friendship has meant to me of late,” Marcus said, smiling a little. Mr Blake put down his glass and smiled fully.
