Chapter 18
Sunny was completely foxed. He tried to grab the tumbler in front of him, but he couldn’t determine which of the three blurry glasses it was in his vision.
He should leave, but he wasn’t entirely certain that he could stand up on his own without assistance or mount his borrowed horse.
And he didn’t want to return to the beautiful and impeccable Avalon Palace.
This dirty and seedy little tavern was perfect for a stupid, lovesick sot like himself.
Someone bumped his arm, and he rubbed his eyes to see Wick—actually, two Wicks—sitting next to him. “What are you doing here?”
“Enjoying the moral high ground. I must say that the view from up here is incredible.”
With an ease that irritated Sunny to no end, his friend picked up Sunny’s glass of port and sipped from it. “The cheap stuff. The bartender must know that you are too far gone to tell the difference.” He signaled to the tapster. “Get His Grace something to help him sober up.”
The taproom was swimming when Wick all but poured a glass of some noxious liquid down Sunny’s throat. The dark room stopped moving, but his head felt like a horse had sat on it. He’d never felt more miserable in all his life.
“What caused you to scurry away with your tail between your legs, Sunny?” Wick asked in what might have been a normal tone of voice, but it sounded like shouting to Sunny’s intoxicated and aching brain.
“I told Mantheria that I loved her.”
His friend whistled. “Isn’t that a little soon? Her late husband hasn’t been dead a full month yet.”
Sunny dropped his throbbing head into his shaking hands. “I know that it is too soon. I didn’t mean to say anything, only the opportunity arose. And I wanted her to know how I felt and what I hoped for.”
“If she said no, then it probably wasn’t the opportunity.”
“Are you trying to help me or not?”
Wick grinned at him. “I’m just enjoying our role reversal. You had so much to say when I was reluctant to court Louisa, and now I am the happily married man with all the good advice.”
“Mantheria doesn’t want to be married again.”
“Once bitten. Twice shy.”
Sunny shook his head. “And she doubts that I can bear strong responsibilities. I am entirely unmanned.”
“You’re entirely foxed,” Wick said, placing a heavy hand on Sunny’s shoulder.
“Mantheria takes pride in managing her estates. She knows the names of every man, woman, and child upon them. She keeps abreast of farming inventions and was the person who convinced me to invest in threshing machines and seed drills. Her tenant farms yield almost a quarter more than they did ten years ago. She follows my father’s maxim: The land isn’t yours until you’ve worked it.
And you, my friend, like Matthew, have never labored a day in your life. ”
Grabbing both sides of his head, Sunny asked, “You think I should become a farming duke?”
“I think you should become a man and take care of your home and estate rather than let others do the heavy lifting,” Wick said.
Exhaling, Sunny slumped his shoulders. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Go home to Sunderland House first thing in the morning and make yourself worthy of my sister. Learn every position on your estate, from the lowest scullery maid to the grooms to the tenant farmers to the duties of your steward. You should know your estate inside and out. And once you do, use that clever, bookish mind of yours to make improvements.”
“What if Mantheria still won’t have me?”
“At least you’ll have your self-respect.”
Wick picked Sunny up by his shoulders and hauled him out of the tavern. It was an ignominious end to an awful day.