The Tenacious Miss Tamerlane by Kasey Michaels

Author:Kasey Michaels
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-04-16T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Ashley Benedict roused himself most reluctantly the morning following the ball, tried to raise his head, and was rewarded for this effort by the appearance of a stabbing pain that shot across his broad forehead. It faded to a dull, sickening throb only after he prudently buried his face in the scratchy bedspread beneath him. The discomfort of lying sideways atop his bed, his long legs dangling almost to the floor, combined with the distinct chill that pervaded the room, convinced him that a further attempt to rearrange his limbs into an upright position was worth the agony such a move entailed.

Slowly, and, oh, so carefully—he prized himself up and away from the dubious comfort of his massive bed, staggered over to lean heavily against his tall dresser, and contemplated his bleary-eyed visage in the tilt-mirror.

"Egad, can that drunken sot be me?" he groaned incredulously. He raised one hand and stroked his beard-shadowed chin. It was he, all right, but the memory of what horrendous happening had driven him to so abuse his constitution he was unable, for the moment, to recall.

Just then Farnley burst into the chamber from the dressing room, without preamble starting in to harangue his master with a complaint about "that she-devil" Miss Tamerlane, who refused to heed signs that were as plain as the nose on his grace's face, begging his pardon.

Tansy! Of course! Who else but that infuriating menace of a cousin had ever gotten so firmly under his skin that he was forced to resort to take refuge in the bottom of a bottle—or two or three.

"Drat you, Farnley, stow it! Can't you see I am in excruciating pain? Have you so little pity for a fellow human being that you would so callously add to my burdens by bringing me your petty problems?"

Farnley looked embarrassed for a moment, but after apologizing he made one more try at laying his side of the story before the Duke.

"Enough!" Avanoll barked, immediately raising his hands to his throbbing skull. "Prepare my bath and get some coffee up here. And you may shave me today, if you can collect your nerves sufficiently to refrain from slicing my throat."

Once dressed for his afternoon meeting with some friends at Tattersall's, Avanoll gingerly descended to the breakfast room, where he found himself confronted with muddy coffee, underdone eggs, burned bacon, and cold toast. The servants were obviously, in their own subtle way, expressing once again just where their allegiance lay.

As his memory of the previous evening slowly filtered back to him he had to admit that—perhaps this one time, at least—he had behaved just a trifle badly. Furthermore, if he ever hoped to enjoy a decent meal under his own roof again he would either have to make it up with Tansy or replace the entire staff.

As it was less trouble to perform the former requirement, and because he really did feel a slight twinge of remorse for his boorishness, he abandoned his unappetizing meal and went to seek out his cousin, thereby making his first meal of the day a serving of crow.

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