“My eyes deceive me, Your Grace. I haven’t seen you in here in years.”
Gregory turned to address the boisterous claim. “Three to be exact.” He dipped his head to Lord Bainsbury, son of the Earl of Winchester, one of his closer neighbors. It could be said that he grew up with Reginald. He wouldn’t be one of those to say that since he’d always considered Reginald too arrogant. At one time, Gregory had told Jonathan that he predicted Reginald would never grow into his own skin. He had no way of confirming that. Until now.
“Which one of these tarts are you docking tonight?”
Gregory stared back into his drink. Of all the people to run into tonight.
Reginald slapped his back. “Come on, let’s see here. I’ll be dog’s rigging that barmaid out back in an hour. You can count on that. I’ve been salivating over her bubbies for weeks now.” He bumped Gregory’s elbow causing his drink to slosh around and out of his cup. “You look like you could use a bit of skirt.”
“Reginald–”
“It’s Reggie. Come now. We’ve known each other for far too long.”
“Reginald–”
“Remember the old days when we’d have all those dinners together.” He guffawed. “Your parents were quite unconventional, having us over for those plays you would put on. Most people did musicales, but not the Campbells. You would put on the most godawful plays.”
“Reginald–”
“Yes, I’m remembering more and more as we speak of it. Who was it?” He snapped his fingers. “Yes, Lady Edwards.” He slapped Gregory on the back, again causing drink to splash out of his cup, this time landing on Gregory’s Hessians.
“Always about mermaids and pirates, wasn’t it? I wonder what she did with all those pages? Fire starters?” He guffawed again with some spittle flying onto Gregory’s cheek. “Ah well, I’m sure she’s realized her place in the world. She’s probably still looking for a husband,” he smirked, “But I could be convinced to give her a taste of my–”
Reginald deserved the first blow to his ribs for what he had been saying. He deserved the second blow to his ribs because as he staggered back, he flung his arms forward striking Gregory in the face with his glass and slicing open his eyebrow. He deserved the last punch to his ribs for wasting ale.
Gregory stepped over Reginald and pushed a few pound notes in the barmaid’s hands. “See him another drink and then have someone take him home. Keep the rest.”
It was late but Mary couldn’t sleep. She decided to slip down to the kitchen for some warm milk. She didn’t want to wake any of the footmen, and she knew her way around their kitchen. The girls had tagged along after Cook enough to be shown a few things.
Just as she was about to pour the milk into her cup, she felt a presence. Then she heard a sound by the entrance.
She looked up to find Gregory in the shadows, leaning against the frame. “What are you doing here?” he drawed out theyou.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she murmured. “I just came down for some milk.”
“Ah yes. Such a grown up drink for a grown up girl.”
The disdain in his voice caught her off guard. Ever since his return from the continent, he was so harsh toward her. Mayhap to everyone now.
“Your grace,” she began.
“Mary.” He mocked.
She forced her face to remain impassive. A scowl would not do. “I have my drink. I’ll be off to bed now.”
As she grabbed her drink she saw him take a few steps into the room as if to pass her, and the light from her candle lit his face.
She couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. “You’ve been bleeding.”
“Oh this,” he reached up to his eyebrow. “It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing.”
“Yes, well, I suppose it is something enough to have brought me down here for some honey.”
“Honey?”
“It is said to be beneficial to put over cuts.” Gregory took a cursory glance around the kitchen. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Cook keeps the honey, would you?”
