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“Andrew? It’s Tabitha. May I come in?”
Silence. There was no response, not even a stirring, so she knocked again. After another round of silence, Tabitha tried the doorknob and found it was unlocked. Cautiously, she entered the room.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior. The drawn curtains shrouded the room in darkness. The fire in the hearth had long since died down. A mixture of booze and sweat was the first thing Tabitha noticed. She put a hand up to her nose.
Once her eyes focused, Tabitha took in the state of the room. What in God’s name had happened? It looked like a storm had blown through the place. Papers were strewn over the floor, the upended table lay on its side. Over by the fireplace, there were shards of broken glass. An empty decanter sat on a table near the fireplace, its contents long gone, along with other bottles scattered across the room. Tabitha followed the trail until she found Andrew slumped in the corner.
She gasped, racing to his side. Tabitha leaned Andrew’s head back, relieved to see him breathing. The stench of alcohol was overwhelming. The brandy bottle next to him was nearly empty. She put it down with a thud and turned her attention back to Andrew.
“Andrew, it’s Tabitha. Wake up.” She gently patted his cheeks to get a response, but Andrew remained unresponsive, the alcohol having done its job.
Angry at Andrew having done this to himself, Tabitha hit him slightly harder on the cheek. When that did not work, she slapped him hard on the arm, which finally got her the response she wanted. He grunted and momentarily came out of his stupor.
“Tabitha?” he said, trying to focus on her. “What the devil are you doing here?”
“George called for me. He said you had been shut in here almost two days, and he was worried about you. So am I.”
By the time she finished her sentence, Andrew had drifted off to sleep again.
Tabitha sat back on her haunches and shook her head. Damned Miranda. If she could, Tabitha would have rung the woman’s neck for causing Andrew so much pain. But there was nothing to do now except help the man she loved, and that meant getting him up to bed. She rang the bell for George.
The valet quickly entered the room, also stunned by the sight. He looked at Tabitha, who simply shrugged her shoulders.
“It appears His Grace did some redecorating. He’s passed out in the corner over there.” Tabitha motioned to Andrew’s limp body. “I want him put to bed, his clothes changed, and I’ll try to get him to eat later. I will stay with him and see that he is cared for.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And please see that this room is cleaned.”
“Of course. I will fetch help to carry His Grace to his chambers.”
As she waited, Tabitha knelt by Andrew. He was breathing evenly. All he needed was some time to sleep off the effects of the alcohol, then they would have a long chat. It pained her to see Andrew this way. She didn’t want him to fight alone. When he awoke, she would tell him she would stand by his side no matter what.
The servants came and carried their inebriated employer to his room. Tabitha waited outside as they changed Andrew’s clothes and placed him in bed.
Tabitha had taken a book from the study and pulled up a chair by the bed. It could be a while before Andrew woke up, so she settled in for the wait.
The shadows moved across the floor in the bedroom, signaling the passage of the day. Evening set in. Around that time George arrived with dinner for Tabitha and a small tray for Andrew.
“I took the liberty of apprising the dowager duchess of the situation since she returned home a short while ago. She said she will leave everything to you, and she will speak with you tomorrow.”
“Thank you, George.”
Tabitha placed the dinner tray on the table near the fireplace and was placing her napkin on her lap when there was a stirring from the bed. It wasn’t the most pleasant noise, a moan signaling Andrew had awakened and was probably not happy about it.
Ignoring the sounds behind her, Tabitha finished placing her napkin and reached for her silverware. It was pointless to say anything until she was certain Andrew was coherent enough to have a decent conversation.
The moans grew louder as Andrew slowly came back to reality. Tabitha glanced behind her in time to see Andrew attempt to sit up, grab his head, then throw himself back onto the pillow with a sound of disgust.
She smiled to herself, slightly satisfied he was paying for his stupidity. Tabitha had never understood why people would drink to excess when afterwards, they were guaranteed to feel worse. Hopefully, this would teach him to stay away from spirits in the future.
* * *
Andrew lay in bed,vaguely aware of a faint tinkling noise he couldn’t quite place. After shaking some of the fog from his head, Andrew realized he was in bed, probably brought up by the servants. When he attempted to sit up, a wave of dizziness and nausea caused him to lie back down in defeat. There was that strange noise again.
This time, he slowly raised his head and saw Tabitha seated by the fire eating. That explained the sound—silverware. He settled back down on the pillow, closing his eyes. It did little to drown out the thunderous pounding in his head.
His skull felt like it was going to explode, and his stomach threatened to revolt just from the smell of Tabitha’s food.
