Page 56 of Made for the Marquess (Second Sons of London 4)

Chapter Nineteen

Percy had neverbeen more miserable in his entire life.

He took a swig from the whiskey bottle, draining the contents, letting it fall from his fingers on to the floor. The last couple of days had gone by in a haze as he had drunk himself into oblivion. He knew he was going to have to tell the Second Sons at some point about his decision not to wed. He realized he should have quickly retreated to Kingwood before he hit the bottle but he hadn’t. Last night, he was to have attended a card party. Only Ev and Adalyn were scheduled to go and they were supposed to pick up Percy in their carriage. Fortunately for him, Adalyn had a horrible bout of nausea and Ev had sent word they would be unable to go, urging him to attend without them.

Percy had no intention of going to any furthertonevents. Ever.

While he still had a cohesive thought within him, he scrawled a note to Owen and Louisa regarding tomorrow night’s ball, writing that he had somehow eaten a bad portion of meat and his belly and bowels were in ruins. He instructed Huston not to deliver it until tomorrow afternoon. That way, they would not expect him at that evening’s ball. He hoped by then he could pull himself together enough and get out of town and return to the country, where he planned to stay the rest of his life.

He had asked Huston to keep the liquor bottles coming as he tried to drink away his problems. If he drank enough, hopefully the nightmares would recede, as well as Minta’s image. The look on her face stayed with him and would until his dying day. Wounding her had been the hardest thing Percy had ever done but it was for her own good. The Season was only beginning and it would give her time to find a good man as her husband.

And forget she had ever met him.

He reached for another bottle and opened it, pouring the amber liquid down his throat. It burned a trail of fire to his empty belly, which growled in rebellion since he hadn’t eaten in who knew when. He continued drinking until he did not know if it was day or night. He drank to forget the dreams which had withered and died, knowing in his heart he had done the best thing for the woman he loved.

That admission had startled him. He hadn’t known himself capable of love but realized that was exactly what he felt for Minta. He tortured himself by wondering if she had those same feelings for him and tried to shove those painful thoughts away. He’d spent hours passed out and then awakened, drinking again, and repeating the process all over. The few times a knock sounded on his door, he shouted obscenities at the top of his lungs and, soon, whoever was there ceased trying to enter.

Hurt hung over him like a dark storm cloud. He would do his best to get dressed the next time he awoke and leave London for good.

Percy came to with a start, drenched in icy water. He sat up quickly, gripping his skull in his hands as pain exploded through his head.

Glancing up, he saw Owen hovering over him, a stormy look on his face. Huston stood nearby.

Turning his wrath upon the valet, he shouted, “Traitor!” Huston flinched at the accusation.

“What the bloody hell have you done to yourself?” Owen demanded.

“It is none of your business, Owen. Stay out of it.”

Percy fell back against the pillows, exhausted, his head throbbing violently.

“You don’t know me as well as I thought you did,” his friend said, glowering at him. “You are going to drink the coffee Huston brought you and we are going to put you in a tub.” Owen’s nose crinkled. “Because you stink to high Heaven.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and moaned. “Leave,” he begged.

“No,” Owen said flatly. “Coffee, Huston.”

Percy found himself lifted from the bed by the two men and placed into a chair. Owen tore open the curtains and bright sunlight flooded the room, instantly causing Percy to wince.

“You may drink the coffee yourself or I will pour it down you,” Owen threatened.

Knowing he hadn’t the strength to fight back, Percy gave in to defeat and took the cup offered to him by Huston. The hot brew was just what he needed and it began to clear the cloud which had descended upon him. Once the haze disappeared, only the dull thud remained, throbbing in his temples.

Not to mention the pain in his heart.

Signaling to Huston, Owen said, “Bring the concoction now.”

The valet went to the table and brought back a large container to Owen, who handed it to Percy.

“Drink,” his friend ordered. “The stuff is horrendous but it will help your head.”

He took a sip and his face scrunched. He spit it out.

Owen’s hand gripped Percy’s shoulders and he said, “This isn’t something to sip, my friend. Down it quickly. It may taste vile but it is highly effective.”

He did as he was told, not having the energy to protest. Drinking the entire contents, he dropped the cup and shuddered.

The door opened and a bevy of servants brought in buckets of hot and cold water. Owen had two of them strip the bed as the others filled the tub. Once all the servants were gone, Owen helped Huston remove Percy’s clothes and they half-carried him to the tub since his legs gave out.

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