Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Milo groaned as someone kicked him awake.
“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!” Rafferty yelled, making Milo groan again.
Something cool and wet slapped over his face, and he threw it away even as something round was pressed into his other hand. But the effort to grip it made him remember the indulgences of the night before had been great.
“Drink it.”
He cracked one eye open and realized Rafferty was holding a tankard under his nose. “What is it?”
“Ale.”
He pushed the tankard away. “Water.”
“No, ale. It’s best for what ails you right now.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m waiting for my carriage, to take Becca home again. Got tired of watching you snore your head off.”
Milo took in the stall around him and blinked. He had slept in the stables. And apparently, he’d drooled on his coat sleeve, too.
He sat up quickly, wiping his mouth. “What am I doing here?”
“Ensuring the survival of your marriage I suspect. Samuel here aided your departure from the ballroom last night, to prevent you from making a bigger fool of yourself than you already had, but you took off when his back was turned.”
“Then why am I in the stables?”
“That’s a good question. We think your horse brought you back when you fell asleep. It’s a miracle you didn’t slide off and break your neck. The stable hands put you in here, rather than risk your reputation as an expert horseman. The horse is fine, by the way.”
Milo frowned, trying to remember the evening before with any clarity. Amelia, the ball, and…
He drew a blank. He only vaguely remembered part of the evening—dancing with his wife, Rafferty upsetting her, then drinking too much whiskey as his marriage was toasted again and again to the sound of a distant harp.
His stomach growled alarmingly, and he turned his head quickly to cast up his accounts all over the straw piled up beside him.
It was so violent an eruption that he barely managed not to collapse into it when he was done.
“I told you he’d do that!” Rafferty crowed. “You owe me a shilling.”
“That you did,” Samuel answered. “A stable hand will have to clean that up after he’s gone.”
Milo sprawled against the ground again, better yet feeling worse, somehow. His head pounded now, and he thought he might be seeing double because there were two horses in the next stall, and they never did that here. “Kill me now.”
“You don’t get out of this so lightly,” Rafferty argued. “Apologies are required.”
“Sorry,” he said wincing as he caught his brother’s eye.
“Not to us.”
Rafferty hauled him upright by his lapels and shook him hard. That did not help his memory, or his stomach but his vision improved dramatically as a result.
He shook off Rafferty’s grip and smoothed down his waistcoat. “Did you get me drunk on purpose last night?”
“You did that yourself, fool that you are. For the good of your marriage, I abducted you to father’s study, but you couldn’t stand still.
I turned my back for a moment and you were gone,” Samuel complained.
“You can clean up in the freshwater barrel if you need to, but you still won’t be as handsome as me. ”
Milo considered punching his brother, but a good dunk might indeed help with his memory. He glanced down at the clothes he’d been wearing last night and winced. He was badly rumpled, but that hardly mattered around his relatives. “You’ve seen me in worse condition. I’ll change later.”
“I’ll bet your wife hasn’t seen you in such a sorry state,” Rafferty warned. “Becca would throw a fit if I came home in such a condition.”
That gave him a moment of doubt, but then he shrugged. “I’ve lived through a wife’s theatrics before.”
Rafferty clapped his hands together once. “It’s your funeral.”
Milo winced at the loud sound and dragged himself over to the barrel and threw his head into the cold water anyway. He came up sputtering. A shake of his head to flick away the excess water had him seeing stars, and he had to find something to cling to for support.
Rafferty’s carriage appeared, horses restless and stamping their feet. Milo looked at the carriage, then at the manor beyond, and winced at the distance he had to walk. He wasn’t certain he could make it that far without falling down.
“Samuel?”
“He’s gone. Don’t worry, we kept your father in the dark, too, about last night. He’ll only yell and your head will hurt worse. Now, climb aboard before you faint.”
That lifeline gave him some steel in his spine, and he strode to the carriage and climbed inside.
They got underway immediately, but Milo frowned at his brother-in-law. “Where are you going again?”
“The side door of the manor with you, then I’m going around to collect your sister and my daughter. I can only hope neither one sees you. My wife would relish the chance to ring a peal over your head before your wife can do the honors.”
His stomach lurched as a hazy memory of Amelia and Dunstan whispering swam before his eyes. “Stop the carriage.”
Rafferty knocked on the ceiling, and the carriage came to a complete but rough stop. He put his hand on his belly, fighting the impulse to cast up his accounts again. “What exactly happened last night?”
“You questioned your wife’s devotion to you within the hearing of several guests, all of whom have sympathy for the poor girl you married.
You really ought to clean up if you wish to have any hope of being forgiven for that outburst. It’s clear she’s devoted to you, but I cannot fathom why she still would be.
Let’s hope she’s the forgiving sort, at least toward you.
If I’d spoken to Becca like that, drunk and rambling nonsense about some supposed betrayal, I’d have no bollocks left to scratch today. ”
Milo grimaced, but the memory of last night, the feelings, crept back. Anger and distrust were the most prevalent. Also, satisfaction that he’d spoken his mind to his wife.
But in his memory, he only pictured his first wife, not Amelia, as the recipient of those harsh words.
He’d spoken of Serena’s misdeeds with other men as if they were Amelia’s betrayals. As if she was embarrassing him, when he was the one causing a scene before Father’s friends and neighbors.
He scrubbed a hand over his face and groaned out loud, because he knew now that his behavior deserved no forgiveness. He had lost his mind.
Amelia and his first wife were so different, and yet they both appeared to bring out the beast in him. “I am so in the wrong.”
“Yes, you were. Perhaps you should get out now rather than risk facing your sister, who is bound to share an opinion of your performance last night.”
He nodded. Becca’s voice grated, especially when one was suffering, and she had limitless opinions when she was moved to speak her mind at any time.
Milo stumbled out of the carriage, and he heard Rafferty ask a groom to follow his stumbling passage to the manor door. He made it without falling down and waved away the groom, even when he offered to help guide Milo upstairs.
Milo hadn’t the first idea what he was going to say to Amelia when he saw her again. And she would have to see him, because they were still sharing a room. A bumbling apology for something he only half remembered was not likely to be accepted readily.
He headed upstairs slowly, dragging himself up one stair at a time, holding on to anything he passed and thankful he encountered no one on the way to his bedchamber.
But that was as long as his presence went undetected.
Amelia sat at the window, wineglass in hand, watching him return with the coldest expression he’d ever seen on her face.
He decided to speak before she could. “I probably cannot apologize enough for my actions last night and—”
“Enough.” Amelia set her wineglass aside and stood. “Enough of your wallowing in self-pity. I want you to tell me what happened that night.”
He nodded. “I wish I could, but I don’t exactly remember last night well.”
“Not last night. I want to know about the night she died.”
He shook his head and regretted the action when his head spun. “I don’t want to talk about the past.”
“Well, I do. In fact, I insist upon it. I’ve had enough of the whispers of your brother, and hints from Dunstan, too.
If I’m to be your partner in everything, as you claim I should be, then I have to know the truth.
Your brother hinted at some secret that I was going to ignore.
But Dunstan’s sly comments have me curious.
I almost had it out of him last night until you turned beastly.
You had the wrong idea about our conversation.
Your outburst sent him away, so now you must tell me everything, no matter how damning you think it is.
You act as if there was a scandal to be hushed up, and yet no one else in your family, not even my brother or society gossip, suggests you were ever under a cloud of suspicion. ”
He gulped.
“Tell me,” Amelia insisted, pushing him into a chair. He was in no condition to fight to stand, and he looked up at her with a sinking feeling. He’d have to tell her the truth and pray she wasn’t made afraid of him.
She drew a chair to face him and sat with her hands clasped in her lap.
He drew in a deep breath, clenched his teeth for a moment, and chose his words with care. “We were arguing. A lot.”
“What about?” she asked. “Her affairs?”
“Yes. I wanted her to give them up. Her beaus, as she called them. She refused.”
Amelia nodded. “She was selfish.”
“No…yes.”
“You realize you are enough of a man to please any reasonable woman.”
He shifted awkwardly in his chair, discomfited by her praise. He did not deserve it. He had not been a good husband to her so far. He had failed at it before, and still was.
“Go on,” she said, refusing to let the matter drop.
He raked a hand through his hair, his mind now clearer. “We were fighting.”
“Where did it start?”
He looked at her in confusion.
“The argument that day. Where were you? Describe the location for me in detail.”