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“Snow,” he said moving only his lips. What was he doing in this carriage, travelling all the way to Dover to spend Christmastide drunk? What was he doing with his life? He’d been asking himself questions like this a great deal of late.
“You do an amazing job of saying so much while talking so little. Your entire face tells a story,” Chase said as he stretched, giving a loud yawn. His jaw cracked and he reached his hand down to rub it. “You’ve really perfected stoic disapproval. It matches your black hair and craggy features perfectly.”
“Attractive description.” Max allowed the curtain to fall back in place. “No wonder debutantes aren’t chasing me and instead run in fear.”
“Oh please.” Chase rolled his eyes. “They don’t chase you because you flaunt debauchery. The second you show an iota of interest in marriage, they will flock about you.”
“They still chase you and you’re the most debaucherous of the lot of us.” Max rubbed his temples, trying to rid himself of the pounding in his head. It was true. Chase had the classic features of a god. His brown hair and sparkling eyes had lured many a women into his bed.
“You’re not actually considering it, are you?” Chase placed his elbows on his knees, his gaze narrowing as he assessed his friend.
For Max’s part, he had little intention of answering the question. Honestly, he didn’t know what he was considering beyond getting out of this carriage and returning home to sleep in his own bed. There was a vague sense that this life of drinking, gambling, and women had become too much, brittle and hollow in its pursuits. “Considering what?”
“Debutantes. Marriage. Domesticity,” Chase practically spit the last word.
Max leveled his friend with a stare. Chase was as close to a brother as he had. They all were. Some parts of a man’s mind, however, were private. “And miss all of this? Driving into Canterbury in the middle of a storm? Tell me again why we didn’t just Christmas together in London?”
Chase shrugged, sitting back in his seat, but his gaze continued to assess his friend. “The whiskey will be sweeter for the suffering.”
Max scratched his head. Somehow those words seemed significant. Puzzling out the how and the why, however, had to wait as the carriage slid upon the road, the vehicle tipping precariously to one side. Max braced himself against the wall as the driver pulled the conveyance to a stop.
Letting out a long breath, Max snapped the door open and stuck his head out. “Forgive me, Your Grace.” The driver removed his hat as he spoke. “But I don’t think we’ll make it to Dover tonight. Best to stop in Canterbury and travel on after this storm passes.”
Max gave a clipped jerk with his chin. “Put your hat back on, man, and tell the other driver.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the driver answered, bounding down from his seat.
It took a few minutes but the carriage began moving again.
They quickly made their way into Canterbury and stopped at an inn only to discover that it was full. As was the next and the next.
The five friends gathered outside the fourth inn they’d tried. Snow was pelting them as it collected on the ground soaking into their leather hessians.
“I think I’ve a solution.” Chase gave them a devilish grin. It was one he had perfected over years of practice. “There is a brothel over on Castle Street. Frau Kraus’s establishment. Perhaps there is room for us there.”
Rex let out a bark of laughter. “Only you would know where a brothel in Canterbury is located.”
“Frau and I go way back,” Chase’s grin spread even further. “Now there is a woman that can turn a boy into a ma—”
Si gave a timely cough. “Regardless, it’s freezing out here. Let’s go before the brothel is full too. If it isn’t already.”
Climbing back into the carriages, it took less than a quarter hour to make their way to the brothel and only a few minutes to secure a room.
Frau gave them a saucy wink. “We’re filled to the gills but Vadoma has generously allowed you gentlemen to share her room for the evening. She’ll expect compensation in addition to mine, of course. She’d also be happy to tell your fortune, if you’re so inclined.”
A gypsy. Max held in the long exhale he wished to let out. He’d have to sleep with one eye open tonight, which meant he’d need to refrain from drinking too much. A pity. After the day he’d had, it would have been nice to numb his throbbing head.
They were ushered upstairs and entered into a spacious room with a large bed, a table, and a window seat. A dark-haired beauty greeted them with a smile. “It is a pleasure, my lords,” she murmured, looking down at her open hand.
They each placed a shilling in her palm. This was the fee just for being allowed space on the floor, which was fine with Max. He had no desire to share a bed with such a woman. He wasn’t sure what was so distasteful about it. He’d made a hobby out of bedding willing females. Near an occupation, but not tonight. “Will any of you be needing additional services?” she murmured.
“No,” he answered before anyone else could. “Just a place to sleep.”
“Bloody bullocks, what is wrong with you, man?” Chase made a face at him. It was somewhere between a scowl and an eye roll.
“I meant,” the gypsy interrupted. “Would any of you like me to tell your fortune?”
“Not yet, love,” Chase gave her a rakish wink. “Perhaps later.”
