Page 90 of Not his Marchioness
She rushed across the room to hug her sister, who embraced her in return.
Rhys sat with a smile on his lips. He would be an uncle.
How odd that thought was, for he had never considered himself part of a family beyond his own. Even then, he had often felt like an outsider.
The closest thing he had ever known to true family was Gideon, his dearest friend. The two of them had always been inseparable. They still were, though Rhys had not gone to clubs or gambling halls with him for months. Still, they met often. Indeed, he had seen him only that very morning.
The rest of the afternoon passed much as the previous day. The ladies congregated in the corner, discussing the future and names for Evelyn’s unborn child.
As the sun began to set, Gideon joined them. He had promised to come for dinner. He would spend Christmas Day with his family, of course, but for this evening, he had chosen to join Rhys.
Much to Rhys’s relief, Nathaniel and Gideon got on immediately, and before long, the three of them were playing cards at the table by the window.
“I have to say,” Gideon remarked, “I never thought I would see you so domestic.”
“Domestic?” Rhys repeated with mock offense. “Whatever do you mean? I am hardly in the kitchens, whipping butter.”
“You know what I mean. Do you recall where we spent last year?”
Rhys frowned. “I believe it was Dover?”
“Cardiff! You are not even in the right country.” Gideon laughed. “We were at a posting inn, with a rather lovely hostess tending to gentlemen’s?—”
Rhys cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow.
“—culinary needs,” Gideon finished, chuckling. “That is what I meant. You must not always think the worst of me. Although by the end of the night, she tended to other needs as well.”
Nathaniel roared with laughter, though Rhys closed his eyes, mortified.
“I had a Christmas like that myself,” Nathaniel confessed. “Not too long ago, though not recently. Yet I must tell you, I do not miss it.”
“Neither do I,” Rhys admitted.
Gideon’s eyebrows flew up in shock. “Not even a little?”
“No. And once you have a woman in your life, you will understand.”
“I dare say that will never happen. Who would take a louse such as I?” Gideon smirked.
“You do not strike me as vermin,” Nathaniel replied with a wink. “Although I am surprised the Lords have not come after you.”
“There has been some talk of reforming my ways, but I am merely an heir, and my father is in excellent health. It will be years before I must worry over such matters. By then, all the old codgers who now look down their noses at me will have their own concerns. Gout and rheumatism, most likely.”
“Careful,” Rhys warned. “Before long, we will be the codgers with gout.”
“I will pretend you did not say that,” Nathaniel snorted.
The game continued until Rhys was distracted by a rider coming up the snowy road. He narrowed his eyes as the man hurried up the front steps.
Though the house was large, the parlor sat almost directly beside the front door, and Rhys heard both the knock and the sound of shoes squeaking across the marble floor.
He pretended not to be distracted, playing his hand. But then a butler appeared.
“My Lord, a letter has arrived,” he announced, presenting it on a silver salver.
Rhys took the letter and scanned it. There was no seal, but the hand was tight and unfamiliar.
“Excuse me,” he murmured, rising.
