Mr. Cavendish, I Presume
Page 38
” Amelia said. “How delightful! We shall have to have you and your wife over to Belgrave once we are wed.” She caught her breath, feeling almost light-headed. She’d never anticipated their life as a married couple with such certainty.
Even now she could not quite believe she’d been so bold as to say it.
“Why, we would be delighted,” Mr. Gladdish said, giving Thomas a bit of a look. Amelia wondered if he’d never invited him over.
“The Baddish, Harry,” Thomas almost growled.
“Now.”
“He’s drunk, you know,” Mr. Gladdish told her.
“Not anymore,” she replied. “But he was. Quite.” She turned to Thomas and grinned. “I like your friend.”
“Harry,” Thomas said, “if you do not place a Baddish upon this counter within the next thirty seconds, as God is my witness, I shall have this place razed to the ground.”
“Such an abuse of power,” Mr. Gladdish said, shaking his head as he went to work. “I pray that you will be a good influence on him, Lady Amelia.”
“I can only do my best,” Amelia said, using her most prim and pious voice.
“Truly,” Mr. Gladdish said, placing a hand on his heart, “it is all any of us can do.”
“You sound just like the vicar,” Amelia told him.
“Really? What a compliment. I have been cultivating my vicarish tone. It aggravates Wyndham, and is thus something to aspire to.”
Thomas’s arm shot across the bar and he grabbed his friend’s collar with strength remarkable in one so impaired. “Harry . . . ”
“Thomas, Thomas, Thomas,” Mr. Gladdish said, and Amelia nearly laughed aloud at the sight of her betrothed being scolded by an innkeeper. It was marvelous.
“No one likes a surly drunk,” Mr. Gladdish continued. “Here you are. For the sake of the rest of us.” He plunked a short glass on the counter. Amelia leaned
forward to inspect the contents. It was yellowish, and rather slimy-looking, with a dark brown swirl and a few flecks of red.
It smelled like death.
“Good heavens,” she said, looking up at Thomas.
“You’re not going to drink that, are you?”
He grabbed the glass, brought it to his lips, and downed it in one gulp. Amelia actually flinched.
“Ew,” she let out, unable to suppress her groan. She felt sick to her stomach just watching him.
Thomas shuddered, and his chin seemed to tense and shake, as if he were steeling himself for something very unpleasant. And then, with a gasp, he let out a breath.
Amelia backed away from the fumes. That kiss he had promised . . .
He had better not be planning on it today.
“Tastes just as good as you remembered, eh?” Mr.
Gladdish said.
Thomas met his gaze dead even. “Better.”
Mr. Gladdish laughed at that, and then Thomas laughed, and Amelia just looked at them with a complete lack of comprehension. Not for the first time, she wished she’d had brothers. Surely she could have used a bit of practice with the males of the species before trying to understand these two.
“You’ll be cured before long,” Mr. Gladdish said.
Thomas gave a nod. “That’s why I’m here.”
“You’ve had one of these before?” Amelia asked, trying not to wrinkle her nose.
Mr. Gladdish cut Thomas off before he could reply.
“He’d have my head if I told you just how many of these he’s tossed back.”
“Harry . . . ” Thomas said warningly.
“We were young and foolish,” Harry said, holding up his hands as if that were explanation enough. “Truly, I haven’t served him one of these in years.”
Amelia was glad to hear it; as amusing as it had been to finally see Thomas at less than his best, she did not relish the thought of marriage to a habitual drunkard.
Still, it did make her wonder—just what had happened that made him want to go out and overindulge?
“Served one of these to your friend the other day,”
Mr. Gladdish said offhandedly.
“My friend,” Thomas repeated.
Amelia hadn’t been paying much attention, but the tone of his voice when he replied was enough to make her look sharply in his direction. He sounded bored . . .
and dangerous, if the combination was possible.
“You know the one,” Mr. Gladdish said. “You were in here with him just yesterday, wasn’t it?”
“Is someone visiting?” Amelia asked. “Who is it?”
“No one,” Thomas said, barely looking at her. “Just an acquaintance from London. Someone I used to fence with.”
“He is handy with a sword,” Mr. Gladdish put in, motioning to Thomas. “He trounced me every time, pains me though it does to admit it.”
“You were invited to share his fencing lessons?”
Amelia said. “How lovely.”
“I shared all his lessons,” Mr. Gladdish said with a
smile. It was a real smile, too; nothing teasing or silly.
“It was my father’s only generous gesture,” Thomas confirmed. “Not generous enough, of course. Harry’s education was stopped when I left for Eton.”
“Wyndham couldn’t be rid of me that easily, though,”
Harry said. He leaned toward Amelia and said, “Everyone should have someone in his life who knows his every secret.”
Her eyes widened. “Do you?”
“Know his every secret? Absolutely.”
Amelia turned to Thomas. He did not contradict. She turned back to Harry with delight. “Then you do!”
Even now she could not quite believe she’d been so bold as to say it.
“Why, we would be delighted,” Mr. Gladdish said, giving Thomas a bit of a look. Amelia wondered if he’d never invited him over.
“The Baddish, Harry,” Thomas almost growled.
“Now.”
“He’s drunk, you know,” Mr. Gladdish told her.
“Not anymore,” she replied. “But he was. Quite.” She turned to Thomas and grinned. “I like your friend.”
“Harry,” Thomas said, “if you do not place a Baddish upon this counter within the next thirty seconds, as God is my witness, I shall have this place razed to the ground.”
“Such an abuse of power,” Mr. Gladdish said, shaking his head as he went to work. “I pray that you will be a good influence on him, Lady Amelia.”
“I can only do my best,” Amelia said, using her most prim and pious voice.
“Truly,” Mr. Gladdish said, placing a hand on his heart, “it is all any of us can do.”
“You sound just like the vicar,” Amelia told him.
“Really? What a compliment. I have been cultivating my vicarish tone. It aggravates Wyndham, and is thus something to aspire to.”
Thomas’s arm shot across the bar and he grabbed his friend’s collar with strength remarkable in one so impaired. “Harry . . . ”
“Thomas, Thomas, Thomas,” Mr. Gladdish said, and Amelia nearly laughed aloud at the sight of her betrothed being scolded by an innkeeper. It was marvelous.
“No one likes a surly drunk,” Mr. Gladdish continued. “Here you are. For the sake of the rest of us.” He plunked a short glass on the counter. Amelia leaned
forward to inspect the contents. It was yellowish, and rather slimy-looking, with a dark brown swirl and a few flecks of red.
It smelled like death.
“Good heavens,” she said, looking up at Thomas.
“You’re not going to drink that, are you?”
He grabbed the glass, brought it to his lips, and downed it in one gulp. Amelia actually flinched.
“Ew,” she let out, unable to suppress her groan. She felt sick to her stomach just watching him.
Thomas shuddered, and his chin seemed to tense and shake, as if he were steeling himself for something very unpleasant. And then, with a gasp, he let out a breath.
Amelia backed away from the fumes. That kiss he had promised . . .
He had better not be planning on it today.
“Tastes just as good as you remembered, eh?” Mr.
Gladdish said.
Thomas met his gaze dead even. “Better.”
Mr. Gladdish laughed at that, and then Thomas laughed, and Amelia just looked at them with a complete lack of comprehension. Not for the first time, she wished she’d had brothers. Surely she could have used a bit of practice with the males of the species before trying to understand these two.
“You’ll be cured before long,” Mr. Gladdish said.
Thomas gave a nod. “That’s why I’m here.”
“You’ve had one of these before?” Amelia asked, trying not to wrinkle her nose.
Mr. Gladdish cut Thomas off before he could reply.
“He’d have my head if I told you just how many of these he’s tossed back.”
“Harry . . . ” Thomas said warningly.
“We were young and foolish,” Harry said, holding up his hands as if that were explanation enough. “Truly, I haven’t served him one of these in years.”
Amelia was glad to hear it; as amusing as it had been to finally see Thomas at less than his best, she did not relish the thought of marriage to a habitual drunkard.
Still, it did make her wonder—just what had happened that made him want to go out and overindulge?
“Served one of these to your friend the other day,”
Mr. Gladdish said offhandedly.
“My friend,” Thomas repeated.
Amelia hadn’t been paying much attention, but the tone of his voice when he replied was enough to make her look sharply in his direction. He sounded bored . . .
and dangerous, if the combination was possible.
“You know the one,” Mr. Gladdish said. “You were in here with him just yesterday, wasn’t it?”
“Is someone visiting?” Amelia asked. “Who is it?”
“No one,” Thomas said, barely looking at her. “Just an acquaintance from London. Someone I used to fence with.”
“He is handy with a sword,” Mr. Gladdish put in, motioning to Thomas. “He trounced me every time, pains me though it does to admit it.”
“You were invited to share his fencing lessons?”
Amelia said. “How lovely.”
“I shared all his lessons,” Mr. Gladdish said with a
smile. It was a real smile, too; nothing teasing or silly.
“It was my father’s only generous gesture,” Thomas confirmed. “Not generous enough, of course. Harry’s education was stopped when I left for Eton.”
“Wyndham couldn’t be rid of me that easily, though,”
Harry said. He leaned toward Amelia and said, “Everyone should have someone in his life who knows his every secret.”
Her eyes widened. “Do you?”
“Know his every secret? Absolutely.”
Amelia turned to Thomas. He did not contradict. She turned back to Harry with delight. “Then you do!”
