Page 42 of Indecent
“That’s wonderfully convenient,” Bennet said.
“For everyone,” Wexford agreed as they entered the library. There weren’t many places to sit, and Bennet wondered if the club was always this crowded or if this was due to it being Tuesday night with both gentleman and ladies crammed into the men’s side. The men weren’t ever invited to the ladies’ half of the club—only into their side of the ballroom on Friday nights.
The assembly! Would Prudence be there with her new charge on Friday? Bennet hoped so. Now he had something wonderful to look forward to. Just to see her across the room would be enough.
“Irish whiskey?” Wexford asked him.
“That’s available?”
“There’s also the inferior Scottish variety if you’re an imbecile.” Wexford twisted his mouth in disgust.
Lady Wexford laughed. “Forgive Ruark. He’s awfully snobbish when it comes to whiskey.” She lowered her voice and leaned toward Bennet. “He does spend a great deal of time defending his homeland’s whiskey.”
“Because the lot of them have no taste,” Wexford grumbled.
“I’d love some Irish whiskey, thank you,” Bennet said.
“Always knew I liked you. Even when you beat me at the boxing club.” Wexford grinned before taking himself off, presumably to pour drinks.
Lady Wexford led him to stand near one of the front windows. “Did you just arrive back in town? Your absence was noted.”
“Last night, yes. I imagine I’ve attained quite a bit of notoriety over the past few weeks.”
“Thanks in large part to my father.” She gave him sympathetic look. “I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s not your fault. I confess I’m surprised at how welcoming you and Wexford are being.”
“What would be the point of holding a grudge for how you behaved at the fight? As you said, everything worked out as it should. Well, except for your reputation taking a fall.”
He lifted a shoulder. What else could he do? Wail and complain about the injustice of his father’s stupidity? No, not stupidity. That was not what had plagued him. What plagued nearly his entire family. “I do appreciate your generosity,” Bennet said as Wexford returned with whiskey for him and a glass of wine for his wife. Then he went back for his own drink.
“Glastonbury?”
Lord Lucien Westbrook strode toward them, his eyes slightly narrowed. He arrived just as Wexford did.
“Sorry, Lu, didn’t see you or I would have brought you a drink,” Wexford said.
“I have a brandy in my office I’m going to fetch.” Lord Lucien looked to Bennet. “Why don’t you join me, Glastonbury?”
There was an icy expectation in the man’s dark gaze that didn’t seem as though he would accept refusal.
“Just allow me to make a toast to the newlyweds.” Bennet lifted his glass. “May you live together in happiness and love for all the rest of your days, and on into eternity.”
Lady Westbrook’s face bloomed into a charmed expression. “That was lovely. Thank you, Glastonbury.” She tapped her glass to his and then her husband’s before taking a drink.
Bennet sipped his whiskey, appreciating the smooth, bold flavor. He glanced toward Wexford. “Why do you try to persuade anyone to drink this?” Wexford’s features immediately darkened, and he looked as if he wanted to challenge Bennet to a third bout, which Bennet supposed would settle things once and for all since they’d each won one. Before Wexford could say anything, Bennet added. “Because I would hoard it for myself.”
Wexford relaxed and grinned. “You make an excellent point. I’ll stop that immediately.”
“It’s too late for me, I’m afraid,” Bennet said. “This is what I plan on drinking whenever I visit.”
Clapping him on the shoulder, Wexford chuckled. “Then we shall share many a toast.”
“Shall we?” Lord Lucien prompted.
Bennet inclined his head to the Wexfords, then left the library with Lord Lucien. They walked past the stairs, and Lucien led him to a closed door. Opening it, he gestured for Bennet to precede him.
The office wasn’t large, but it was imposing, with a large desk and a wall of bookshelves. The fireplace was encased in marble, and a fantastic Reynolds was displayed on the wall above the mantel. A pair of dark green chairs sat before the hearth.
