Page 42 of The Duke of Distraction
Felix watched, helpless, as color leached from both Sarah’s and Anthony’s faces.He saw Anthony’s hand tighten around his utensils, his knuckles turning white.And Felix noticed the slight tremor in Sarah’s hand as she picked up her wine.Rather than draw attention to their discomfort, he turned toward Michael and asked him about his final term at Oxford.This led Felix to draw Anthony into reminiscing about their days at Oxford, and they were thankfully able to keep Aunt Bridget and Uncle Martin relatively quiet.
And so they managed to endure the meal and his aunt and uncle’s company.Afterward, Sarah said she was tired and bid them good night.Aunt Bridget said she didn’t want to go to the drawing room alone, and so she insisted Martin and Michael accompany her to the dower house, for which Felix was exceptionally grateful.
Not five minutes after they left, he and Anthony were in his study with their coats discarded, cravats untied, and a bottle of whisky on a small table between the chairs in which they sprawled.
“Good Christ, those are miserable people,” Anthony said.“I begin to understand why you never invited me here.Have they always been like that?”
“Mostly, yes.”
“And you let him run the estate?”Anthony shook his head.“I knew you allowed him to live in the dower house and that he looked after things when you were in London, but I didn’t realize he was your de facto steward.”
“I have a steward.”
“Then you don’t need your uncle.”
This was another reason he didn’t invite people to Stag’s Court.How he ran his estate—his life—was no one’s business, not even his best friend’s.“His son is going to inherit someday.Why not let him oversee things?I’m quite content with this arrangement.”He gave Anthony a cool look before taking a long draw from his whisky glass.
Anthony pressed his lips together and lifted his glass.“My apologies.I know you don’t plan to marry.I just assumed that would change and that you didn’t really mean to have your cousin inherit.Clearly, I was wrong.”
“Yes.”
“I can see the benefit of not marrying—many of them, actually.”Anthony sipped his whisky.“However, I do not have a male first cousin.I’ll have to do some digging.Bound to be someone along the line.”
“As my aunt said, marriage isn’t for everyone.”It certainly wasn’t for them.
“Was their marriage arranged?”Anthony asked before shaking his head.“And they havethreechildren?”At Felix’s nod, he laughed.“I presume they didn’t always hate each other.”
“My father said they did.Since they had two daughters before Michael, I have to assume they fucked each other through their mutual hate just to have a son.”
“Why does that sound vaguely arousing?”Anthony said, laughing.“Mutual hate fucking, I mean.”
“Because you had four glasses of wine at dinner and are nearly finished with a first glass of whisky.”Felix didn’t want to encourage him to get drunk, not after he’d had such a good day, but the fact was that Felix was already more than halfway drunk himself, and going all the way sounded pretty damn good at present.
Almost as good as mutual hate fucking.Or just fucking.An image of a woman wrapped in dark purple silk vaulted into his mind.He drained his glass and poured another.Before he set the bottle down, Anthony held his glass out for a refill.
“Looks as though we’re getting completely stewed,” Felix said.
Anthony held up his glass in a toast.“No one I’d rather do it with.”
Felix had no idea of the time when he helped Anthony up to his bedchamber.They were both stinking drunk, but Anthony was nearly unconscious.His arm around Anthony’s waist, Felix tried to open Anthony’s door without losing hold of him.He failed miserably.Anthony hit the floor with a thud, drawing his valet to rush to the door.
“I’ve got him,” he said, helping a muttering Anthony to his feet.
“Sorry about that,” Felix said, wincing.“Take good care of him.”He pulled the door shut with more force than necessary, causing it to slam.“Shit.”
He turned too fast and leaned back against the door to steady himself.
The door across the hall opened, and standing at the threshold was a goddess.Dark hair plaited over her shoulder, with curls that extended down over her breast, Sarah tied the sash of her dressing gown as she stepped out of her chamber.
“Felix?”
“’Tis I.”He stepped forward and swayed.
“My goodness.You’re foxed.”
“Felix is foxed.I think I shall say that three times fast.Felix is foxed.Felix is foxed.Fox is felixed.”He grinned and took another, far steadier, step toward her.
“I take it my brother is in the same condition?”
