well, I’d be quite beside myself with worry. It is only normal that a gentleman of your age and wealth seek a mistress, and at other times, the company of his friends and brandy.”
He was saved from answering her by a footman rolling in a tea cart upon which were two pots and several cups. “This contains the willow bark tea, and the other, the coffee,” he announced before making his exit.
Wesley rose to pour first the one that would cure his pain. He also drank it quickly and hoped his stomach didn’t reject the contents. Then, he poured a cup of coffee, inhaled deeply then sipped.
All this time he’d thought his nocturnal activities had been kept from his grandmother, who apparently knew nearly all.
Good God, he hoped she didn’t know everything he’d done after she retired.
The very idea made his face burn.
“I hope it’s the heat of the coffee making your cheeks pink, Wesley for there is no cause for embarrassment.”
Bloody hell. This is not a conversation one should have with one’s grandmother!
“What is an embarrassment?” Somerton asked with a grin as he entered.
Why the hell did the future groom appear to be well and whole? He’d drunk far more than Wesley the night before.
“None of your business,” Wesley grumbled, resenting his friend for experiencing such a full recovery.
Almost immediately, Lynwood entered. At least he looked as sickly as Wesley felt.
“Which is which?” he asked quietly as if muttering simple words were painful.
Her Grace explained the difference and Lynwood first poured a cup of the medicinal tea, before partaking of the strong coffee.
“I would recommend bread for both of you since you missed breaking your fast.”
Wesley looked to his grandmother. What the blazes did his grandmother know about the suffering from overindulgence?
“I well recall suffering from a night of rum. I only meant to sample the bottle that Jonathan had brought back with him from the Caribbean. I sampled too much,” she giggled.
Wesley pulled back and stared at his grandmother. “Captain Vail got you foxed?”
“No, Dear. I got myself foxed.”
“I assume it happened here, during your captivity,” Lynwood asked.
“It certainly didn’t occur at home, or my father would have had my head.” Again, she laughed.
If anything, Wesley was learning quite a bit about his grandmother since they had arrived at Hollybrook Park, and if he wasn’t worried that she’d start conversing with her dead love at inopportune times, he’d take delight in learning more.
“Good morning,” Miranda greeted cheerfully with a bright smile upon her beautiful face as she glided into the drawing room.
Somerton greeted her in return as Lynwood groaned.
Miranda merely chuckled and made her way to the serving cart. “I suppose there is no normal tea in either of these pots.”
“No,” Lynwood answered.
“Then I shall make do with coffee, I suppose.” She lifted the lids of each to peek inside before choosing the coffee to pour. “It’s going to be a glorious day,” she announced much too loudly, which Wesley suspected was to irritate her older brother.
Thank God Lucinda was elsewhere in the manor or she might do the same to him. Why were younger sisters often cruel?
“I’ll be off. My bride to be and I are walking into Bocka Morrow,” Somerton announced.
“Such a lovely day. Enjoy your stroll,” Miranda offered.
“If you would like to join us, we’d be happy to sail, Miranda.”
Why couldn’t she walk into Bocka Morrow? Why did she insist on sailing?
“It is kind of you to include me, but I’m certain you and Diana would enjoy the quiet before the guests arrive.” She smiled. “Besides, the sea is still rough this morning. I wouldn’t chance sailing right now.”
“The schooner barely made it to the caves last night,” Lynwood offered. “Thankfully, we aren’t expecting any more ships until after the wedding. Hopefully, the seas will be calm by then.”
“It was a pleasure, Your Grace and Miranda.” Somerton gave a slight bow. “Do recover quickly gentlemen, for the guests will be arriving this afternoon.” He chuckled as he gamboled toward the entry.
“Gentlemen?” Miranda questioned then slowly did a turn until her gaze settled upon him. “Lord Epworth! I’d not realized you were hiding in the shadows.”
He wasn’t hiding.
“The bright light pains him,” his grandmother chuckled.
She simply grinned.
Why did young women take such pleasure in the discomfort of gentlemen? It was cruel, truly. And his grandmother was no better. But at least the pain in his head was beginning to ease and his stomach had stopped threatening to cause embarrassment. All he needed was a bit more