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“Oh course it’s me,” the Earl said stumbling forward to catch Mr. Crafton by the lapels to steady himself. He nearly pulled Crafton into the fountain with him. “Do you know me?”
“No he doesn’t,” Wentwell said getting between the men.
By then, the three gentlemen had reached the fountain. “Get his shoes and stockings,” Neville demanded as he and Reg man-handled the Earl out of the fountain. “Let’s get you home,” he said to the Earl.
“Do I know you?”
Samuel collected the stockings and wrung out the wet, before picking up the shoes while Mr. Crafton intoned that theTonwould surely stop talking about how drunk he was when they heard about The Earl of Shalace bathing in the public fountain.
Samuel stood with the shoes in hand, shrugged in the direction of his friends, and gave the man a sharp push. Crafton fell backwards into the fountain himself.
“Must have had you as an example,” Samuel Beresford said. “Or are you still so ape drunk you wouldn’t know your own mother, Crafton?” Samuel asked as he dumped half the contents of his hip flask on Mr. Crafton’s head and left him to make his own way out of the fountain. “Waste of good whiskey,” Samuel muttered as they moved away from Crafton. “But I doubt any will believe ill of Shalace from Crafton now.”
“Good Lord! Who is that in the fountain?” Lord Cornishe asked of the gentlemen as he came out of the pub.
“Crafton,” Wentwell answered as the frog marched the Earl away from danger.
“Is he tossed?” Lord Cornishe asked.
“Drunk as a wheelbarrow,” Neville intoned as they marched the Earl away.
“Wait,” Shalace said dragging his feet. “I didn’t get my drink.”
“I think you have had quite enough to drink, my lord,” Reg intoned. “You are already quite foxed.”
Once they were out of Cornishe’s view, Samuel thrust his hip flask into the Earl’s hand. “Drink up, man,” he said. “Knowing your wife, I think you are going to need it.”
Shalace took a drink from the flask and sputtered. “That isn’t water,” he said.
“No it is not,” Samuel agreed. “It’s the finest Irish whiskey. Enjoy it, Shalace. And you, Wentwell, you owe me.” He pointed a finger at Neville.
“The Earl of Shalace took another drink from the flask. “It is very smooth,” he agreed smacking his lips in appreciation.
“Nothing wrong with this man’s head that I can see,” Samuel intoned.
“What were we celebrating, gentlemen?” the Earl asked as they attempted to usher him into the carriage. “Or is this the wake? Is someone getting leg shackled?”
Samuel guffawed. “Perhaps Wentwell, there,” he said.
“Who are you marrying, Wentwell?” the Earl asked turning to Neville.
Neville hesitated but a moment. “Your daughter with your permission, and hers,” Neville said.
“Why of course, Wentwell,” the Earl replied with a laugh. “A wife and daughter? How drunk do you gentlemen think I am?”
“We need to get him home before anyone else sees him out of sorts.” Neville gave him a push. “Let’s go, Shalace.”
“No one is going to think anything but that he is in his cups.” Samuel said. “He shall not be the only gentleman who spent the afternoon at the musicale imbibing.”
The Earl balked at getting into the carriage. The gentlemen could have picked him up bodily and put him inside, but they paused to hear his protestations. “I don’t know you,” he said pointing a finger at Samuel. “Wentwell who are these men?”
“How it is that he recognizes you,” Reginald said, but Neville shook his head. “I think he is mistaking me for my father.”
“Oh,” Reg said realizing that Neville’s father had died when Neville was a boy. This must be a strange experience indeed.
“Of course you know us,” Neville said.
“Oh, I think you have your work cut out for you, Wentwell,” Samuel said.
