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“No, my lord,” he said, sounding genuinely surprised. “I don’t think she cares at all about your wealth. If you were to lose it all tomorrow, she would not hesitate to step forward and help you out.”
He laughed. “With what? Her shopping allowance?”
Holmes regarded him, confused. “My lord, do you not know? The Braydens are one of the wealthiest families in England. Lady Hyacinth is an heiress, I’m sure. I would not be surprised if she could buy you two times over.”
Hellfire.
He’d behaved like a boor and insulted her thoroughly. “Thank you. That will be all.”
“Very good, sir.” He shut the door behind him, leaving Innes alone with his thoughts.
He began to pace across his study like a restless lion.
Hyacinth an heiress? Romulus ought to have had four burly footmen guarding her at all times. She ought to have known better than to go traipsing across London on her own.
Was the girl two cards short of a full deck?
Anything might have happened to her.
Even if she had no fortune, some opportunistic scoundrel could have noticed her and attempted to abduct her. She was too beautiful to overlook.
Indeed, she was too beautiful for words.
The more he thought about it, the more overset he became.
Yes, he’d given his sacred, unbreakable vow to join her for supper tomorrow. Oh, he would be there all right. He was going to give her a blistering lecture.
The talking to of her life.
He was still overset when he retired to bed later that evening to the point he growled at his valet when the poor man tried to assist in undressing him. “I do not require a nursemaid. Get your hands off my buttons.”
The man leaped back as though stung by a wasp.
Botheration, he’d done it again. “It isn’t your fault, Wilcox. I am in a foul temper this evening. Just take my boots and see to it they are properly polished.”
“At once, my lord.” He grabbed them and hurried out, leaving Innes to struggle with the cuffs of his shirt, which he would not have had to do if he had kept his mouth shut and simply allowed the man to do his job.
But he finally got them off, removed his shirt, and settled in a wing chair beside the fire. He had a book and a bottle of port wine on the small table beside him. It was quite comfortable, really. He did not require anything else or anyone else, especially not Hyacinth chattering in his ear or staring at him in disapproval with her lovely eyes.
He read for a little while, got himself drunk, and then staggered over to his bed to fall flat on his face atop the covers.
By daybreak the following morning, he awoke with a blistering headache, a raspy throat, and a mouth that felt as though a dragon had taken a piss in it. He rolled onto his back and groaned.
This was no way to spend the first Yuletide season without his detestable family.
He’d loved his father, but now that he was gone, there was nothing to hold him to family duty. He was free. He could enjoy himself. He was completely at leisure for the next few weeks. His services were not required at the Admiralty until after the new year.
He had nothing more pressing to do than go through the stack of invitations on his desk. He would decline most, for he was not in the market for a wife, and that’s what most of those were all about. But there were likely one or two he might find intriguing and accept.
It was an odd feeling to now be considered an eligible bachelor. Perhaps one of London’s most sought after prizes.
He did not feel like a prize.
He felt empty.
The scars of being raised in a family such as his ran deep. For this reason, he did not like most people. He did not trust anyone.
He counted no one as friends. Well, perhaps Hyacinth, Romulus, and Violet, but only because they had been friends of the past. He would have supper with them tonight but after that?
