Page 175 of Ashen Torment
“All the more reason to inform ourselves better,” Nathaniel replies, without taking his eyes from the board.
Richard huffs. “We are marquesses. I see no reason why we should be excluded.”
“We are not, Richard.” The piece slides into its place.
“Our father is,” he retorts immediately. “And one day you shall be.”
Nathaniel does not look up. “Or it could be you.”
I am about to respond with my move, but I stop.
“What do you mean by that?” Richard asks, stiffening.
Nathaniel crosses his hands before him. “That everything can change. You might marry a widowed Marchioness. Or a Duchess.”
Richard’s chair screeches against the floor, he stands up abruptly.
“Richard?” I call out, surprised.
“You are unbearably stubborn,” he hisses, avoiding looking at his brother.
Nathaniel takes a sip, then tilts his head toward me, indicating him without words.
I follow his gaze, Richard is flushed, he brings a hand to his cravat and loosens it with a brusque gesture.
“Do you not feel this heat?”
He strips off his jacket, then his waistcoat, tossing them over the back of the chair.
Nathaniel clenches his jaw, the flames of the hearth hardening his features.
“Do not be unseemly and ill-mannered.”
“We are among ourselves,” Richard retorts, too quickly.
“And I do not believe Evander is troubled by it. We shared a room at the academy, he has already seen me at my worst.”
I remember perfectly well the state my friend was in. Drunk one night and drunk the next. And if he was not drunk, he was in the company of some woman.
“Do as you deem most appropriate, Richard.”
He sits back down.
“Curious...” Nathaniel comments.
Richard turns his head.
“What?”
“Have you changed your cologne?”
Richard stiffens, his shoulders rising a fraction. Then he laughs. A laugh that arrives a beat too late.
“I must have taken a towel that wasn’t mine. It must have belonged to Isobel.”
“Do you take your own towels now?” Nathaniel retorts.
Richard raises his hands, defensive. “I must have touched it without realizing.”
