Chapter 2

Women and Wine

Nigel Maxton, Duke of Glassley, had not been to Emberly Castle for some time. The last time he had visited the castle had been for the birth of his Godson, Arthur. The thought of his friend's growing family caused a twinge of jealousy and sadness in Nigel. I can never have what he has.

Shaking himself, Nigel dismissed the thought. There was no point dwelling on what could never be. He wandered through the hall and found himself outside the drawing room. He knocked on the door.

It opened, and he found himself staring into the surprised face of Olivia Rokesby. He had not planned on seeing her but found he couldn't help but smile as she opened the door.

"Well, this is rather a surprise. I came here expecting a duke, and instead I am faced with a lady." Nigel grinned. "Unless there is some witchcraft at play

Olivia shook her head, smiling, "Duke Glassley, you do seem rather determined to accuse me of witchcraft. Why, when we danced at my debut, you said the same!"

"Well, what else can have convinced dear Rokesby to end his eight-year isolation and attend a ball?" Nigel laughed.

Olivia joined in Nigel's laughter. "I simply gave him a… nudge… After all, what brother could deny a sister's request? It was simply brotherly affection — not witchcraft."

"I fear, dear lady, that you will never convince me otherwise."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "You confuse witchcraft with determination, good sir."

"Whatever it is, I must thank you, for you have returned a good friend to me." Nigel gave her an exaggerated bow. "I am forever in your debt."

Olivia laughed and shook her head. "You owe me no debt. In truth, I am rather glad that my brother is not perpetually brooding about the house. And I rather suspect that his company is not quite the gift you portray it."

Nigel grinned. "Ah, well the company of a brother to a sister is rather different than that between friends. And I am glad to give you a reprieve when needed."

"You are too kind." Olivia gestured into the room behind her. "I assume you are here to see my brother?"

Nigel nodded. "Yes. I was told he might be here."

Olivia shook her head. "No, though I imagine he will be soon. After all, he cannot go more than an hour without checking in on Rose."

As if on cue, a voice boomed out, "Maxton! It has been an age!"

Nigel felt a hand smack into his shoulder as his friend smiled down at him. Though Nigel was tall, he was still a head shorter than Alexander, who towered over most people.

"Rokesby. It is good to see you." Nigel glanced behind Olivia at Rose and her mother. "Dear ladies, you must forgive my rudeness. Lady Emberly, it is lovely to see you as always. And of course, Lady Cotswalts."

Lady Cotswalts smiled warmly at Nigel and said, "It is lovely to see you too, Duke Glassley. I am sure we can forgive your indiscretion, after all it has been quite some time since you saw Lady Olivia."

"Indeed. Nearly a year ago." Nigel nodded at Olivia.

"Has it really been that long since Arthur was born?" Alexander shook his head and then looked to his wife. "Rose, are you well my dearest?"

Rose smiled. "Yes, I am quite well. And I am sure I will continue to be well the next time you check on me."

Alexander laughed, and Nigel felt a tiny twinge of jealousy in his chest. It mingled with happiness. I am glad that he has found someone who brings him such joy.

"We are going to the club — so you shall be spared your husband's over-protectiveness for some hours." Nigel made a bow to the women in the room.

"What a relief." Rose's eyes twinkled mischievously as Alexander kissed her on the forehead. "Now go, and I shall see you when you return."

"Try not to bring my brother home for some hours," Olivia called to them as they left.

"I shall do my best," Nigel answered.

As they set off down the lane, Nigel glanced at Alexander. "Family life seems to suit you rather well."

Alexander nodded, smiling. "It does indeed. Though I had not expected it to."

"I am glad you have found such joy. Truly, Rokesby, you deserve it." Nigel clasped Alexander's shoulder and smiled.

"Thank you." Alexander beamed. "I am sure you will find your own happiness soon enough."

Nigel made a noncommittal noise and shrugged. There is no need to disabuse him of his hopes, at least not now. As they walked into the gentleman's club, the familiar smell of whiskey and cigars washed over him.

A well-dressed servant with well-oiled hair bowed to Nigel and Alexander as they entered.

"Good evening, Mr. Walter." Nigel nodded to the man as he handed a footman his coat.

"Good evening, Your Grace." Mr. Walter smiled obsequiously at Nigel before turning to Alexander "Your Grace."

"Mr. Walter — tell me how busy is the club?" Alexander handed his own coat to the waiting footman.

"The dining room is rather full, but there is plenty of space in the bar, and I believe several of the billiard tables are available should Your Graces desire a game or two."

Nigel glanced at Alexander. "I think the bar is as good a place as any to start. Could you have them send us a bottle of single malt?"

Alexander shook his head. "It will have to be wine for me, Maxton. Now that Rose is with child again, she has developed a rather… erm… strong aversion to the smell of Whiskey."

"Wine it is. Bring us a good red. Something full bodied and rich." Nigel clapped his hands together and made his way towards one of the free corner booths in the bar.

Alexander slid into the seat across from him and drummed his hands on the table thoughtfully.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Nigel asked.

"I was just trying to remember the last time we were here together." Alexander frowned thoughtfully.

"You know, I am not sure. After all, the cellars at Emberly are rather well stocked." Nigel smiled. "Although, there is rather more risk of interruption."

Alexander laughed. "Indeed. There is little risk of that here."

He chewed the bottom of his lip, a pensive look on his face as he said, "I think it was the night after father's funeral…"

"Oh God. I have rarely been that drunk." Nigel winced.

"It was your fault. You were the one who suggested we go for a drink to ‘drown our sorrows'." Alexander pointed an accusing finger at Nigel.

"I said ‘a drink'. Not seven bottles of wine and half a bottle of scotch." Nigel shuddered.

"And a bottle of port." Alexander shook his head. "I still can't stand the stuff."

"Nor can I." Nigel grimaced. "I only remember patches of the night."

A memory floated to the forefront of his mind. They had been walking — well, stumbling — back from the club, a bottle of port being passed between them. Alexander had stopped suddenly, tears streaming down his face.

"Does it get better?" Alexander's voice shook, and he was unsteady on his feet.

"The port isn't that bad. I can barely taste - hic - it now. I think." Nigel inspected the bottle in his hand, sniffed it, and made a face. Why won't the ground stay in one place? "Perhaps it is that bad."

"Not the drink." Alexander shook his head emphatically and almost fell. "This… this pain."

Nigel darted forwards, steadying his friend as his own legs threatened to give way. "No. Not really."

"Oh." Alexander's voice was barely more than a whisper, full of pain.

"Well… no, that's not quite right. It's… it's hard to explain." Nigel screwed up his face, trying to force his thoughts into something coherent. "When my father died, I was still quite young. I was only a boy really, so it is hard to remember."

"I see." Alexander slumped.

"I remember my mother and her sadness. I was so scared that she would die of heart break." I did not want to be an orphan. Nigel clenched his fists. "I spent so long trying to cheer her up. And I was so angry at father for doing that to her."

"I doubt your father meant to cause your mother such pain," Alexander said in a reasonable voice.

Nigel shrugged. Yet he still did. "I remember being sad myself, but I do not think… I do not think I understood that… well, that he was gone, not truly." Nigel ran a hand through his hair, frustrated at himself. "It wasn't until I was older, and there were things a father should teach a son, that I really felt his loss. That I could have my own sadness."

"Perhaps it would have been easier if he had died while I was young." Alexander leaned against a nearby tree and slumped to the ground.

"Do not say that. I would give anything to have had these last few years with him." Nigel felt fury course through him. You have had so much more time than I, and you will get far longer with your own family.

Alexander waved a hand in apology. "That was… poorly said. I only meant… Well… I'm not sure what I meant."

Nigel slumped beside his friend. "I know… It does not get better. That's the wrong word. I always think of those dark feelings after father died as this sort of giant cloud."

"A cloud?"

"Yes. A big one. And it just… takes up all this space." Nigel threw his arms wide to demonstrate and accidentally hit Alexander in the face. "Ah. Sorry, Rokesby!"

"S'quite all right, Maxton." Alexander gestured for Nigel to continue.

"What was I saying? Right. Yes! That cloud! At first it takes up… everything. But over time… well… the space around the cloud, it gets bigger…" Nigel paused for breath, willing the words to form in his mind. It is like a cloud of molasses has settled over me. "And so, that pain… it becomes more bearable… It is still - hic - there, but you aren't constantly stumbling over it or into it."

Alexander nodded. "I would like the space to be bigger."

"In time friend, in time." Nigel clapped him on the shoulder.

Raucous laughter brought Nigel back to the present, and he glanced to his left, catching sight of a group of young men laughing together. The looked no older than one and twenty, and he felt a twinge of jealousy in his chest. They do not know how lucky they are.

"You have a rather black look on your face, old friend." Alexander glanced at the youths. "Though I admit, they are being rather loud. Perhaps we should have a word with the steward."

"I am sure we were the same at their age." Nigel shook his head. "Besides, we were so drunk the last time we were here, I am quite convinced we caused as much of a disturbance."

Alexander grinned. "I suspect there is more than a little truth to your words."

Before either man could say anything more, a waiter arrived with their wine, and after testing it and deeming it adequate, Nigel dismissed him.

"What shall we drink to?" he asked, holding his glass a loft. "Old friends?"

"Old friends and growing families!" Alexander clinked his glass against Nigel's. "And to seeing more of both!"

Nigel laughed, trying to hide the stab of pain. The truth was, as much as he loved Alexander and spending time with his friend, it had become harder for him to do so. Alexander had a loving and growing family, one that he would grow old with. Meanwhile my time grows shorter and shorter; I find it harder to be reminded of all that I will never have.

In an effort to stifle this thought, Nigel downed his wine. Alexander followed suit, and before either of them could fully understand how it had happened, they were on their fourth bottle.

Nigel blinked his eyes hard, trying to focus on Alexander's words as they stumbled from their chairs and made their clumsy way out of the club.

"Love. Love is… it's very nice… I want YOU to find love." Alexander swayed as he said it and poked Nigel in the chest.

Nigel shook his head and instantly regretted it. If the world would just stop spinning, I could think. "I need a wife… I don't have – hic - time for – hic - love."

"Everyone has time for…" Alexander swallowed and then continued, "Everyone has time. For love."

Nigel felt his chest tighten. "I don't want love. I just – hic - want a life. No, a wife!"

"Very well." Alexander attempted to look sombre briefly, but Nigel could see the grin beneath. Or at least he thought he could. "So what are you looking. For?"

Nigel stroked his chin. "I hadn't give it much thought. Just need a li- wife. Wiiiife."

"Issa hard word to… say." Alexander thumped Nigel so hard on the back that Nigel almost fell over.

"It IS a hard word." Nigel steadied himself. "I need a wife. By the end of the season!"

"What'sa rush?" Alexander looked confused. "You're only six and twenty. Plenty of… time."

"Ezzactly!" Nigel struggled to make his mouth form words. My father died at 27 and his father before him, and his father and his father. "I'm old!"

Alexander opened his mouth, closed it, and shrugged. "If you insist… Ahhhh! I know. You've already found her! You dog! Who is she?"

Nigel only just remembered not to shake his head again and settled for waving his hands in negation instead. "No. You've… You've got it all wrong! I just. I need to find a wive. A wife."

"Wives are quite lovely." Alexander nodded sagely. "Though hardly – hic - a decision to be… rushed."

"We can't all – hic - have your luck." Nigel laughed and almost lost his footing.

"Or my meddling mother-in-law." Alexander glanced over his shoulder as if looking for someone. "Shhh. Don't tell Rose."

"Tell Rose what?" Nigel tried to remember what Alexander had just said.

"That I said her mother was meddling!" Alexander put a finger to his lips. "Although it's true. But… nonetheless. Don't. Tell. Rose."

"Your secret's safe – hic - with me." Nigel put a hand over his heart as he tried to make eye contact with one of the three Alexander's swaying in front of him. "I shwear it!"

"Good." Alexander linked an arm through Nigel's, and they began to stumble towards the castle.

Alexander showed Nigel to the guest room and then departed to his own chambers. Nigel flopped onto the bed, trying not to focus on the sickening way the floor moved or the roiling in his stomach.

Every part of him seemed to cry out for sleep, but his mind was whirring. Nigel sighed and propped himself upright, glancing at the door.

"I should make sure I cannot get out of these chambers. Move something against the door maybe." He attempted to stand, and the whole room swayed ominously.

"You can do this. Just one step at a time. Get a hold of yourself man!" Nigel gave up attempting to walk to the door and settled for crawling.

Like his father and grandfather before him, Nigel had recently had a spate of waking up in chambers other than his own with no recollection of ever making the journey. He needed to stay in his chambers tonight, and that meant blocking his only escape.

"Just a little farther," Nigel murmured to himself.

As he reached the door, he slumped against the cool wood, closed his eyes, and pressed a hand to his temple. He tried to ignore the way it trembled. It's just the wine. You've had far too much to drink, that's all. He clenched it tightly into a fist.

He thought back over the evening and what he had not said when Alexander had told him he had more time. How could I tell him the truth? That my line is cursed. One son, all dead at twenty-seven. Nigel had no time. He knew it. Already, he felt the tendrils of the curse creep towards him.

He forced his eyes open and tried to reach for a nearby table. As he stood to pull it towards the door, the room tilted violently, and Nigel crumpled. For a moment, he feared he would be sick. He gave the table a push towards the door.

If I am too drunk to move even this table, I doubt I will be able to get up to much mischief in my sleep. Perhaps if I sleep in front of the door that will be enough. The thought was a comfort to him as he gave in and let sleep take hold.