Page 50 of The Rogue’s Offer

With a gentle motion of his hand, he swirled the whiskey in his glass before he raised his head to meet his friend’s unreadable gaze. The sharp, angular planes of Charles’s features were frozen as if he were a statue. Despite his friend’s unreadable expression, Percy sensed the tension holding his friend rigid. Charles clearly hadn’t known about Beatrice’s son. Aware that he’d pried into a matter he shouldn’t have, Percy quickly finished his drink and rose from his chair.

“I should be going. Rhea is certain to be home by now from that new play at the Lyceum.”

“I envy you, Percy.”

Startled by his friend’s quietly worded statement, he tipped his head to one side in puzzlement.

“What the devil do you have to be envious of?”

“You found a wife who adores you and doesn’t protest when you go out with your friends.”

“Actually, I think Rhea deliberately arranges to attend parties or events she knows I’ll detest so she can encourage me to spend an evening with friends while she’s out of the house.”

Percy smiled as an image of his wife filled his head. Charles was right. He was a man to be envied. His friend abruptly set his glass on top of the liquor cart and turned to face him. The earl’s cheerful smile made it appear as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“As I said, I envy you. Rhea is an exception to the rule when it comes to wives. A situation I have no intention of exploring anytime soon.”

“I thought the same thing, but look how things turned out for me.” At the amused note in Percy’s voice his friend directed a look at him as if to say he was out of his mind.

“And here I thought your sisters were the only matchmakers in your family.”

“I lack the superb skill my sisters possess. Give them the word, and they’ll work hard to weave their magic.”

“Then if there should be any sly comments regarding my lack of a countess made the next time I see any of your sisters, I can guarantee you will not enjoy our exercise in the boxing ring at the club.”

“After the sound beating I took the other morning, I’ll heed your warning quite diligently.” Percy raised his hands in muted form of surrender as he laughed then stepped forward to shake his friend’s hand. “I’ll see you soon. And I’ll be sure to drop some subtle hints to Constance and Louisa. I think they’ll put a plan of action into motion within hours of my dropping hints.”

Charles nodded his head as he shook Percy’s hand. While his friend’s expression was one of amusement, Percy could tell there were emotions running deep beneath the surface. Feelings that centered on Lady Beatrice, and something told Percy that the woman wouldn’t be happy to see Charles headed her way.

§ § §

Mathias suppressed a groan as he entered the breakfast room to see Charles at the breakfast table. He had a miserable headache, and he was in no mood to talk. In fact, he’d hoped his brother would have left already for his usual morning ride. Last night was mostly a blur, and Mathias wasn’t eager to be subjected to a round of questions this morning. As Mathias sat down at the table, his stomach lurched in protest as his brother added haddock to his plate.

“Jeremey, would you ask Mrs. Harper to fix me some tea, please?” Mathias said as he looked in the footman’s direction.

The servant nodded and moved quickly out of the room. Trying to breathe through his mouth to avoid the smell of his brother’s fish, he reached for a piece of toast and the butter. Determined to overcome the nausea the haddock was causing, Mathias concentrated on the warm smell of the piece of toast he was spreading with butter. Charles was reading the newspaper as he ate.

“You look like you found the wrong side of the bottle last night, little brother.” Charles didn’t look up from his paper.

“I’m fine,” Mathias mumbled as he took a bite of his toast.

“Really? Then your constitution is quite remarkable given the amount of drink you must have consumed last night.” Charles slowly lowered the newspaper to narrow his gaze on Mathias. “Do you recall bellowing for more whiskey at the club as if you were in an East End pub?”

“Vaguely,” he lied as he tried to remember how loud he’d been.

“Drowning your sorrows in a bottle is the last thing you should be doing, Mathias.” The quiet words made him stiffen. How much had he told his brother last night?

“I wasn’t drowning my sorrows,” he snapped, instantly regretting the harsh sound of his voice as it made his head pound even more.

“I see.”

Charles returned to his paper, and Mathias gratefully accepted the tea the footman had brought him. He added a small amount of sugar and milk before he took a drink of the hot brew.

“What are you going to do about it?” Charles’s voice echoed out from behind the newspaper, and Mathias froze in the process of lowering his cup to its saucer. It took him several seconds to slowly set the cup down.

“Do about what?” The pounding in his head increased as he sought to head off the conversation his brother seemed on the verge of starting.

“I’m not in the mood to play games with you this morning, Mathias.” The paper slowly dropped to reveal Charles’s scowl of irritation. “I asked you a question. What are you going to do about it?”