Page 43 of Wickeds Scandal
“Dear God, Nick!” Cam raised aneyebrow. “Pray, do not destroy yet another piece offurniture. The Dowager is stilled distressed about the couch in her musicroom.”
“Hmm. Well that was shoddy workmanship,although I didn’t wish to risk her offense by saying so.”
Cam grinned. “Cobbs!”
A man standing discreetly in the shadowsstepped forward.
“A glass for Viscount Lindley.”
“Yes, my lord.” The unflappableCobbs scurried off.
“So this is what has become of the greatand dangerous Satan Reynolds. Sitting alone with nothing but anover-eager servant and an expensive bottle of whiskey.” Nicholas peeredat the bottle. “Looks Scottish. Likely quite peaty.” Nicholassat back. The chair groaned. “You’re horribly foxed, Cam. Whatcalamity has occurred to put you in such a state? Did Bishop’s lecture notsufficiently bore you to tears? Did your latest volume of the history ofthe pyramids not arrive on time?”
Cam scowled at him.
“Oh, I know! A woman was immune toyour charms!” He winked at Cam, grinning evilly. Nicholas wasafraid of nothing in this world, certainly not Cam in a foul temper. Now thenextworld, if one believed in such things, was open for discussion.Nicholas wasn’t concerned. Being one of the damned, and already destinedfor hell, meant one didn’t worry about such things.
He stretched out his long legs, decidinghow to broach the subject of Runyon, without Cam going completely mad.Nicholas suspected the unknown Alexandra played a part in Cam’s drunkenrevelry. Curious. Cam did not drink himself into a stupor overwomen. Time to go fishing and see what he caught.
“Who is she?” Nicholas took a sipof the whiskey. The whiskey tasted warm and delicious. A bit peaty,with a smoky finish, as he assumed.
Cam huffed and looked away.
Nicholas swirled the whiskey aroundthe inside of his mouth, savoring the amber liquid. The stuff really wasgood. He held his glass out to Cobbs who promptly refilled it.“Give over, Cam.”
“Alexandra Dunforth.” Camslurred. One of his eyes nearly shut, then snapped back open. Hespilled a bit of the whiskey on his breeches.
Amazed, Nicholas took another sip ofwhiskey. It took an enormous amount of liquor to make Cam unsteady.In fact, the last time Nicholas heard Cam slur drunkenly, had been atEton. Whiskey was the culprit that time as well. Cam’s tolerance for alcoholadded luster to his nickname at Eton, since he drank like the devil, with fewill effects. Unlike poor Colin who could be found stumbling after two glassesof Madeira. Nicholas shook his head.
“Alexandra Dunforth? I don’t believe I’vemade her acquaintance. I rather thought someone died with the long faceyou’re wearing, and your sister sobbing away on my shoulder.”
Cam sputtered. His lips pressedtogether and his brow furrowed.
“Oh don’tfrownso, I didn’t touchMiranda. She cried ‘properly’ on my shoulder.” Nicholas popped hisknuckles and took another sip of the whiskey. He waited.
Cam remained stubborn.
Nicholas shrugged. He had no otherentertainment scheduled for tonight. He regarded Cam thoughtfully.His friend resembled an angry, avenging angel. St. Michael oranother enraged cherub, perhaps. A multitude of women would swoon over Camshould they see him so upset. Females found Cam most attractive when hebrooded.
“I’m not sure what the problem is,”Nicholas said with a chuckle. “One woman is much like another. You lifttheir skirts over their heads, and it’s difficult to tell them apart. Ifind throwing the skirts up cuts down on female chattiness. The silktends to muffle the noise.”
Cam did not find Nicholas’s joke to be witty.
Nicholas assumed a stern demeanor,determined to get to the bottom of things. “Really Cam, what is thisAlexandra Dunforth to you? You’ve shown no pointed interest in any womansince your return. I’veneverseen you give a fig for any of thefairer sex, excepting your sisters and the Dowager. Did she injure you insome way?” Nicholas’s opinion of females tended to be low in general, althoughhe did have a deep affection for his own sister and a healthy fear of Cam’sgrandmother, which he supposed could be construed as a type of affection.“Is she trying to have you murdered? People do seem to be trying tomurder you as of late.”
Cobbs coughed delicately from theshadows.
Cam’s head lolled sideways. It tookmore than a moment for him to respond.
“No! She is a tiny, foul-tempered,opinionated little Badger! With curling hair. Lots of it.”Wistfully he sighed, sloshing whiskey over the fine leather chair.
Cobbs pursed his lips and immediatelywiped up the spill.
“You know how I love curls.” Cam’sgaze tried to focus on Nicholas.
Nicholas would soon need an interpreterif the evening went on much longer. Cam was very drunk. “Yes, you’vementioned that to me before. Every curly-haired whore in Londonpropositioned you after you voiced your preference at Covent Garden.Ladies of thetonswarmed Bond Street purchasing every curling ironavailable after you spoke of your obsession at Lord Meriam’s fete. SoAlexandra is curly haired. That is not an excuse for your presentstate. Did she refuse your attentions? Is she insane? Crazed?Does she not know you are a great seducer of women?” Nicholas pretendedshock.
“Yes. I mean,no.Well, I don’t know. I don’t think she’s mad.” Cam struggled to situp. “Nick, she isbetrothed.” Cam’s handsome featurescontorted into misery.
