|
Junior Member
"To feel anything deranges you."
Personal Text
Noble
Rank
Assistant teacher of anatomy
Occupation
|
Iris
Offline
May 11, 2021 19:15:15 GMT
She / her
Tag me @connor
|
|
Post by Connor Morrison on Mar 25, 2021 14:47:58 GMT
Connor had, until this point, been able to keep himself lulled enough by the warmth and the weariness to put off how he felt about this whole situation. There was still that quiet sense, at the back of his mind, that he would regret allowing this vulnerability later, but that was dormant enough for now that he could ignore it.
Then Hippolyte pressed closer, arched his back, and squinted in the light, and the world stopped.
It stole Connor's breath, that image. He had admired Hippolyte, since before they had begun their trysts; he had wanted him, certainly; he had thought of him, at every turn, as handsome, sophisticated, skilled, desirable, and good company. He had long begun to acknowledge that there was something different than the other men Connor had taken to bed, over the years — with them, Connor was content to leave the connection confined to the dark back rooms, scarcely ever desiring their company outside those heated, private moments. He could not have pinpointed when, precisely, that changed in the case of Hippolyte. He would not have wished to, even if he were capable. When he had begun to take notice of the change, he had found a thousand ways to explain it away: it was only natural that he should desire the attention of an eminent surgeon outside of the bedroom, after all, and that did not mean anything profound. And, why, Hippolyte was perfectly charming! Would any man eschew his company over a glass of wine? And if Connor had chosen to take a position in Paris, what of that? It was certainly not for Hippolyte's sake — it was a sensible move for his career, nothing more.
In the hazy light filtering in through the window, lighting Hippolyte's languid, smiling face, those excuses now felt too transient and flimsy to grasp. He could fabricate an explanation for most things, fooling even himself, but there was little he could do to justify the sudden clenching and shuddering of his heart in his chest. He knew precisely what that meant.
But he would not, as usual, confront that. He thrust the feeling down hard, berating himself for the ridiculous weakness. He was not a simpering woman. Severing the eye contact between them, he turned his head towards the window and pushed a hand through his hair. It would muss the curls, but there was time enough to see to fixing that before the ball. "Oh, some gossip rag." He was thankful, at least, that his voice came out sounding perfectly nonchalant. Years of practice. "Everyone is all abuzz over it, as she names the subjects in full. It is all idle nonsense, mostly — who stepped on whose foot at the last ball, who lost a fortune in the horse races, so on. Anwyl was in it, two weeks ago. And wouldn't shut up about it, predictably." |
|
|
|
Junior Member
"To feel anything deranges you."
Personal Text
Noble
Rank
Assistant teacher of anatomy
Occupation
|
Iris
Offline
May 11, 2021 19:15:15 GMT
She / her
Tag me @connor
|
|
Post by Connor Morrison on Mar 24, 2021 23:45:11 GMT
Connor, unlike Benedict, positively adored events like this. By the end of the night, the pressure of the façades did tend to wear rather thin, but at the start, Connor was positively in his prime. He took an equal amount of pride in his fashions, his conversation, and his footwork — and for a man who wished to display all three, there was no better place than a London ball. With no parents in attendance to prod and needle about courting the right woman for a future bride, he could conduct himself as he pleased, dance with whomever he liked, drink his fill, and do whatever met his fancy.
Observing the rest of the partygoers was as much a part of the enjoyment as anything else, of course, and for Connor, observation often went hand in hand with judgment. He would not dream of making any rude remarks, naturally, but for a new season in London, it was useful to know who was worth watching for the latest fashions. That Featherington girl was still clad in an absolutely atrocious shade of yellow, as she had been at last week's ball, and the amount of men who thought it acceptable to wear poorly-starched cravats was truly abysmal. Some of the older fellows were still clad in tailcoats that would have been out of fashion in 1809, to say nothing of 1813. Astonishing.
Later on in the evening, he would make an effort to strike up a few proper conversations. For now, however, he remained content to watch. Every so often, someone with whom he had a passing acquaintance would pause to exchange a few words, which he always received good-naturedly.
When Benedict Bridgerton passed by him, Connor almost did not recognise the man. They were, after all, in a rather different context than their last meeting. "Bridgerton!" The Scotsman's delighted bark cut across the short space that separated them. Connor certainly looked very little like the fellow Benedict had met at Granville's party, half-dressed and half-stupefied with drink. Now, he was the very picture of a dandy, clad in snug black silk breeches, embroidered stockings and waistcoat, expertly-arranged cravat, elegant slippers, and a dark, fine wool tailcoat. Even his posture was vastly different. That broad smile, however, was quite the same, as he waved Benedict over. "Spare a moment for a friend, hm?" |
|
|
|
Junior Member
"To feel anything deranges you."
Personal Text
Noble
Rank
Assistant teacher of anatomy
Occupation
|
Iris
Offline
May 11, 2021 19:15:15 GMT
She / her
Tag me @connor
|
|
Post by Connor Morrison on Mar 24, 2021 20:53:56 GMT
Tag: lennie3 Thread: Investigating Mr. Bridgerton Notes: N/AConnor scarcely listened to her initial response. Everything concerning the man's marriage prospects was easy enough to glean from Lady Whistledown, if Connor cared to investigate. He came to these parties to escape from the mindless nonsense of the marriage mart, not to hear more about it. All the ton seemed capable of carrying about was who was courting whom, who had vowed never to marry, who had begun an affair with the stable boy, and on and on in an endless, boring, stupid swirl.
But of course, Genevieve abandoned that topic quickly enough. Given the phrasing of his initial question, he supposed he couldn't really fault her for taking the opportunity to tease a little. He granted her a lazy roll of his eyes as he tossed back the last dregs of his brandy before pausing to refill the glass again.
"He intrigues me," he confessed, keeping his gaze on the pouring liquid to ensure he wouldn't overfill the glass. As much as he enjoyed a bit of oblivion, there was a delicate balance to walk; he should not like to start the first month of the season by finding himself passed out in the gutter after one drink too many. When he had filled the glass to his satisfaction, he held the decanter out for Genevieve to take if she was so inclined. "Can't say why, really. I suppose I hardly expected anyone in that family to have a personality beyond sporting and dancing, or whatever they get up to." |
|
|
|
Junior Member
"To feel anything deranges you."
Personal Text
Noble
Rank
Assistant teacher of anatomy
Occupation
|
Iris
Offline
May 11, 2021 19:15:15 GMT
She / her
Tag me @connor
|
|
Post by Connor Morrison on Mar 24, 2021 18:37:15 GMT
Connor supposed that Benedict might have some point in his protests. The details of the man's life, after all, were not likely to be altogether too interesting — he came from a wealthy family, he possessed many siblings, he likely had been abroad, and there was probably little more of substance to say about his life than the life of any other second born son of a nobleman.
It was not the details of his life, however, that Connor hoped to divine. The fact that the man frequented Granville's parties was proof enough that there was more to Benedict beneath the surface. If the man were interested in only drink or sex, he could easily find that in any pub, gambling den, or whorehouse he chose, and London most certainly had an ample supply of those to satisfy any libertine. The people who attended Granville's parties desired something more than that. What they desired was not always the same, but there was a shared sense of a desperation for something that couldn't be found many other places.
There was more to Benedict than just the second son of a nobleman. That much, Connor did not doubt. And when Connor's interest was piqued, he was not the sort of man to let the matter go until he'd satisfied his curiosity.
Benedict's question brought a faint, enigmatic smirk to Connor's lips. Noncommittally, he lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. "That little game we played tends to end with the players as either friends or enemies, in my experience. As we do not seem to be enemies, that does leave only one option, does it not?" |
|
|
|
Junior Member
"To feel anything deranges you."
Personal Text
Noble
Rank
Assistant teacher of anatomy
Occupation
|
Iris
Offline
May 11, 2021 19:15:15 GMT
She / her
Tag me @connor
|
|
Post by Connor Morrison on Mar 24, 2021 17:02:40 GMT
Tag: lennie3 Thread: Investigating Mr. Bridgerton Notes: N/AAh, there was that quintessential Delacroix boldness. Unabashed as ever. He supposed he had rarely considered it before, but her profession must certainly have given her an ideal position for gossip. The women of the ton liked nothing more than to talk, and during the fittings and the consultations for the endless gowns they wore to endless balls, he supposed a fair few of them might choose to gossip with the modiste herself. Little wonder that she had grown curious about the Bridgerton men. He had not been in London long for this season, but he had already heard that name batted around more times than he could count.
Truth be told, he found most of the family exceedingly boring, from all that he had heard of them. Anthony seemed to be the very archetype of a stern, unyielding head of the household, so aggressively protective of his family that he had managed, according to rumour, to scare off nearly all his eldest sister's suitors before the Duke of Hastings had taken an interest in her. Said eldest sister, whose name he could not recall, was now happily making life in the countryside. The third brother, whose name he had also quite forgotten, he had heard very little about, except that he was charming and fond of travel. Boring, boring, boring.
Benedict, however... Benedict was interesting. His presence here proved that amply enough. Swirling the brandy in his glass, the Scotsman grinned and cocked his head to one side. "Well, Madame Delacroix, I really must ask: did the dear Mr. Bridgerton live up to all that fuss?" |
|
|
|
Junior Member
"To feel anything deranges you."
Personal Text
Noble
Rank
Assistant teacher of anatomy
Occupation
|
Iris
Offline
May 11, 2021 19:15:15 GMT
She / her
Tag me @connor
|
|
Post by Connor Morrison on Mar 24, 2021 15:24:31 GMT
Tag: lennie3 Thread: Investigating Mr. Bridgerton Notes: N/AIt was an odd thing, to be lying here so exposed. Connor was not at all ashamed of his body — quite the opposite, in fact — but taking, as he did, such pride in fashion, he was accustomed to paying more attention to the clothes than to the body they sat upon. Stays to smooth the lines and aid posture, starching to ensure the correct placement of every fold of the cravat, precise shades of silk to complement the embroidery of the waistcoat, and on and on and on for every aspect of his wardrobe. He wore the title of dandy like a badge of honour.
Here, all of that was stripped away, in quite a literal sense. Hippolyte took all that apart, piece by piece. The time that Connor spent in front of the mirror, arranging and rearranging the minutest of details, all came undone in a hurried frenzy of grasping hands — the work of hours deconstructed in a matter of minutes. Connor never minded that, of course. Really, in the heat of the moment, the sheer amount of layers to undo and unlace and unbutton were quite irksome.
But he was used to rising to put himself back together, with Hippolyte's assistance, as soon as their little trysts ended. True, there were times — most times, in all honesty — when they only managed the task halfway before temptation had its way with them again, but even then, Connor returned to dressing himself once the moment had passed once more. It was never in any conscious, hurried way; if he were to question the matter, he would have scoffed at the idea that he was rushing to clothe himself or to escape any part of this union.
The rare times when they did linger, however, were always notable for the absence of that rise to dress again. Beyond the more conscious acts of tracing collarbones and feeling pulses, there was intimacy in the simple way they lay together, unhurried, exposed, and almost content.
Connor ought to have risen then. He could have, really — there would be nothing odd now about continuing the conversation as he got up to fetch the discarded items of clothing and don them once more. And he might have done so, had Hippolyte not stretched into his space and allowed a leg to drape across his. Almost unconsciously, he found himself turning his upper body so that he could sling an arm loosely around the Frenchman's waist, allowing his hand to settle in a position to trail an index finger lazily up and down the curve of his spine.
He would regret all of this, later. He would berate himself for it. But as long as they did not rise from this bed, that was a matter for another time.
When he opened his eyes properly, there was a faint, devious smirk on his lips. "Hm, you wish for gossip, do you?" He propped his chin up on his free hand, the elbow sinking into the mattress. "Well, let me see. There's the usual society nonsense of marriages and babies, but none of that is interesting. Only thing of note is that the Bridgerton girl — the eldest one, starts with a D — had a proposal from Prince Friedrich and turned it down in favour of that awful, surly Duke instead. Why, I can't fathom. Whistledown certainly had fun with that nonsense." |
|
|
|
Junior Member
"To feel anything deranges you."
Personal Text
Noble
Rank
Assistant teacher of anatomy
Occupation
|
Iris
Offline
May 11, 2021 19:15:15 GMT
She / her
Tag me @connor
|
|
Post by Connor Morrison on Mar 24, 2021 14:41:02 GMT
Tag: lennie3 Thread: Investigating Mr. Bridgerton Notes: N/AThere was certainly ample opportunity for entertainment in a place like this. When he had first begun attending Granville's parties, he had not been quite as wide-eyed as some of the young men who crossed this threshold, but he had been conscious of a fresh sort of excitement at the thought of the freedom the parties might bring. And for a while, they had delivered. He could gamble, drink, and gossip to his heart's content, with little fear of suffering any consequences for it.
But it had not taken long for him to grow a little weary of the whole thing, in truth. He found himself remaining always on edge, to a degree that few of the other partygoers were; while they indulged with genuine, joyful unrestraint, he kept certain checks on himself, which made the whole endeavour rather exhausting. Even here, a level of façade was necessary. And yet, he continued to come. This place might still require an act on his part, but at least it only required one or two layers of a mask, while the rest of society demanded three times that. It was not complete liberty, but it was enough.
And tonight, he was not in the mood to examine his own feelings on the matter. Tonight, he was in the mood to gossip, and Madame Delacroix had just opened the doors beautifully for that. With a lopsided grin, he knocked back another sip of his brandy, then said, "It seems you have found a good source of entertainment yourself, madame. Benedict Bridgerton, hm? A fine choice. You could have knocked me over with a feather when I saw that Granville had invited a Bridgerton to a place like this." |
|
|
|
Junior Member
"To feel anything deranges you."
Personal Text
Noble
Rank
Assistant teacher of anatomy
Occupation
|
Iris
Offline
May 11, 2021 19:15:15 GMT
She / her
Tag me @connor
|
|
Post by Connor Morrison on Mar 24, 2021 0:23:55 GMT
Now, that was rather curious. Connor might have dismissed Benedict's earlier self-conscious remarks about his art without much further thought, after tonight — it had piqued his interest, but it was not so unusual for a man to find himself wanting in some skill or another. If Benedict was new to art, it was natural enough that he might still be insecure.
These fresh remarks, however, renewed the interest that had begun to wane. Speaking poorly of a skill was one thing, but denigrating oneself this way betrayed a greater insecurity. Again, Connor had to wonder if that went back to Benedict's status as a second son. He couldn't claim to know the Bridgerton family well enough to guess what the family dynamic might be like, but from what he had seen and heard of Anthony Bridgerton, the eldest son certainly provided a fair bit to live up to.
Curious. Tilting his head, Connor squinted at Benedict for a moment, as if he could work the man out simply by scrutinising him. It was a pity, really, that the mind was not as simple to study as the structures of muscles and bones. "Permit me, Mr. Bridgerton," he said finally, "to give you some advice. No one likes to hear a man put himself down. I tell you that as a friend, not a critic, but really, it is dreadfully unbecoming. You do not do yourself any favours in the eyes of any man by apologising before he has had the chance to work you out. Have a bit of confidence in yourself, hm?" |
|
|
|
Junior Member
"To feel anything deranges you."
Personal Text
Noble
Rank
Assistant teacher of anatomy
Occupation
|
Iris
Offline
May 11, 2021 19:15:15 GMT
She / her
Tag me @connor
|
|
Post by Connor Morrison on Mar 23, 2021 23:05:04 GMT
Tag: lennie3 Thread: Investigating Mr. Bridgerton Notes: N/AHe may not have known Genevieve well, but he had a bit of a fond spot for the woman. She was bold, in a way that few members of the ton dared to be; she knew her worth and her professional talent, and she made sure that no one in London could doubt either one. It was impressive, for a young woman to make such a name for herself in a city like this.
And she was bold enough, evidently, to decide that his invitation for a drink was an invitation to take the glass of wine right out of his hands. He had been planning on simply pouring one for her if she decided to join him, but no matter — he could just as easily pour a drink for himself instead. Opting for brandy this time, as the bottle was closer to hand, he poured himself a fresh glass, took a large sip, and let the liquid sit on his tongue for a moment before swallowing.
"London will have the pleasure of my company for a whole season, as a matter of fact." Spending an entire season in London was something he had not done since his student days — it was almost odd, to be here as a fully-fledged adult and not a boisterous, greedy young man. "Edinburgh is exceedingly dull this time of year, and as I am to move to the continent in autumn, I thought it better to enjoy my last few months here in London." |
|
|
|
Junior Member
"To feel anything deranges you."
Personal Text
Noble
Rank
Assistant teacher of anatomy
Occupation
|
Iris
Offline
May 11, 2021 19:15:15 GMT
She / her
Tag me @connor
|
|
Post by Connor Morrison on Mar 23, 2021 18:29:09 GMT
Tag: lennie3 Thread: Investigating Mr. Bridgerton Notes: N/AEver since their little game at the last Granville soirée, Connor had resolved to keep an eye on Benedict Bridgerton. He could not precisely put into words what he found so intriguing about the man, but there was something in his childlike awe that amused Connor. Benedict was, of course, far from a child, but it was abundantly clear that this whole world beyond society's rigid expectations was new to the man, and he had not yet learned to take it all in stride. He was, in a word, sheltered. With this new door opened up, there were a dozen paths he could take. Connor was rather curious which one — or ones — he would choose.
And so he had watched. It was no surprise to see Benedict seeking the room full of artists at the start of the next party; it did seem that the man had a genuine interest in art, beyond what others might have feigned as an excuse to gawk at the nude models. Connor would have liked to get a peek at the man's artwork itself, but given the way Benedict had positioned himself in the room, it would have been impossible to look at the young man's easel without attracting attention. Next time, perhaps.
As the night wore on and the drinks kept flowing, Connor's attention began to wander a little. Lulled by the conversation and the wine, he found himself drifting outdoors with a small handful of other partygoers to pass a pipe back and forth in the garden. When, at last, he grew bored enough of the smoking to return indoors, he had almost entirely forgotten about his plan to observe Benedict. Until, that is, he caught a chance glimpse of that familiar Bridgerton hair — and, upon second glance, he found that the man had traded his artist's easel for the embrace of the dark-haired modiste, Delacroix.
He could not say he was entirely surprised. He had guessed at their first meeting that the Bridgerton boy attended these events for more than just art lessons and good wine. He did not know Delacroix well, apart from the few times they had made brief conversation at these parties, but he couldn't deny that she was a striking woman — it was little wonder that she had snagged the attention of Benedict. He moved on down the hall without lingering to observe them for too long, and for the next half hour or so, he found his entertainment elsewhere. When, however, he spotted the modiste passing by the doorway against which he was lounging, he called out to her.
"Delacroix, ma cherie." With his glass of wine dangling between his thumb and index finger, he grinned. "It has been a while, eh? Come, share a drink." |
|
|
|
Junior Member
"To feel anything deranges you."
Personal Text
Noble
Rank
Assistant teacher of anatomy
Occupation
|
Iris
Offline
May 11, 2021 19:15:15 GMT
She / her
Tag me @connor
|
|
Post by Connor Morrison on Mar 23, 2021 14:55:47 GMT
There had been times in his youth, of course, when Connor had longed for the company of siblings. Even as a child, he had always been the outgoing sort, rarely content to spend his days alone; more than once, he had watched his peers sporting with their siblings with open envy and had returned home to beg his parents for a brother or two. They never obliged, of course. He had never understood the matter then, but he suspected now, as an adult with a medical education, that there may have been difficulty conceiving even him, to say nothing of further children. He knew better than to inquire about that supposition.
Still, now that he was a grown man, he found himself rather grateful to have no siblings. It might have been of some benefit to have an elder brother to take the title and responsibility of the lordship, once his father passed on, but the estate was not so large that it would prove unmanageable even with his profession. No siblings, in childhood, meant no one to play with, but no siblings now meant no sisters to marry off and no brothers to keep out of trouble. That suited Connor quite well indeed.
But he supposed that Benedict raised a fair point, in regards to safety in numbers. As the head of the family, Anthony bore most of the burden, and although Connor had never met them, he was certain that the two youngest were enough of a handful to keep Lady Bridgerton's attentions fixed on them. Benedict and Colin seemed free enough to get by doing what they pleased.
In reply to Benedict's remark on similar paths, Connor hummed in agreement and bobbed his head in a nod. The better to keep his gaze on the taller man, Connor twisted around to walk backwards in front of him — a risky move, given his current state of inebriation, but if one could manage the winding streets of Edinburgh, one could manage the streets of London."Similar paths, indeed." He cocked his head to the side slightly, looking rather thoughtful. "I should like to know more about you, Bridgerton. You are quite the little enigma. You'll be at the next party, I presume? Granville is hosting another next week. He must have told you." |
|
|
|
Junior Member
"To feel anything deranges you."
Personal Text
Noble
Rank
Assistant teacher of anatomy
Occupation
|
Iris
Offline
May 11, 2021 19:15:15 GMT
She / her
Tag me @connor
|
|
Post by Connor Morrison on Mar 23, 2021 2:46:38 GMT
Benedict certainly was a curious fellow. There was something almost endearing about the way he seemed so eager to learn everything he could — as quickly as he could — about his companion. Connor, conceited as ever, rather enjoyed finding himself the object of such interest. There was little he liked better than being seen as intriguing, sophisticated, and worth knowing. If Benedict wanted to play inquisitor, Connor was more than happy to oblige him.
"God, my father isn't here." Connor's nose wrinkled at the very thought of sharing a house with his parents at this age. There was nothing particularly wrong with either of them, but after so many years of living independently, it was positively stomach-churning to contemplate having his parents around to question his comings and goings and to issue orders around the household. "No, he's back in Aberdeen. I am staying alone for the season. How you endure living with seven siblings and a mother, I really cannot fathom." |
|
|
|
Junior Member
"To feel anything deranges you."
Personal Text
Noble
Rank
Assistant teacher of anatomy
Occupation
|
Iris
Offline
May 11, 2021 19:15:15 GMT
She / her
Tag me @connor
|
|
Post by Connor Morrison on Mar 23, 2021 2:19:51 GMT
It was always an odd experience, leaving one of Granville's parties and venturing out again. As soon as the door swung shut behind them, cutting off the light and the merriment within, they went from one world to another. The pressures of this world were, of course, still a little relaxed, given the fact that most of the city now slumbered and took no notice of them, but Connor still felt a profound shift every time he stepped out onto the street. Out of the world of relative liberty, back into the world of rules and obligations.
At least the alcohol in his veins kept him content enough as he traipsed down the street, hands in his pockets. When Benedict voiced his gratitude, the Scotsman said nothing, but he shot over a broad grin to acknowledge Benedict's thanks. In truth, he would not have offered to walk most people home, but Benedict had piqued his curiosity enough that he was willing to go a little out of his way. Raising his hand, he gestured vaguely towards the west of their current position. "My father has a house over that way," he said. "I'm staying there for the season. No more than a... fifteen minute walk, I'd wager." |
|
|
|
Junior Member
"To feel anything deranges you."
Personal Text
Noble
Rank
Assistant teacher of anatomy
Occupation
|
Iris
Offline
May 11, 2021 19:15:15 GMT
She / her
Tag me @connor
|
|
Post by Connor Morrison on Mar 23, 2021 1:37:11 GMT
It did not take too long, fortunately, for Connor to hunt down his discarded items of clothing. The waistcoat and cravat, he eventually found draped over the arm of a vacant chair; the jacket and hat, he could see hanging neatly in the front entryway, and that was easy enough to fetch on his way out. Before he made his way down that corridor, however, he, too, sought out their host to say a brief goodbye. He toyed, briefly, with the idea of asking Granville about the Bridgerton fellow and how he'd come to attend these parties, but he thought better of it by the time he had reached the artist. More amusing to figure things out for oneself, at times.
Once he had said his goodbyes and slipped away, he snagged his jacket from the hook, tugged it on, and took a brief moment in front of the mirror in the entryway to arrange his cravat. It was a hopeless exercise, really — the damned thing was abysmally crumpled. Connor would not have been caught dead in the daylight hours with such a glaring sin of his wardrobe, but given that they were only walking along streets that would be deserted at this hour, he could let it slide. In his drunken state, he was not inclined to care much, in any case.
When he was satisfied that he had arranged the cravat as best he could, he pushed his way out the door and onto the street, where he found Benedict, as expected, awaiting him. Returning the Bridgerton's smile with one of his own, the Scotsman descended the front steps and settled the hat atop his head. "You are a rather impertinent fellow, you know! Rest assured, my dear Bridgerton, if I wished to remain here, I would do so." |
|
|
|
Junior Member
"To feel anything deranges you."
Personal Text
Noble
Rank
Assistant teacher of anatomy
Occupation
|
Iris
Offline
May 11, 2021 19:15:15 GMT
She / her
Tag me @connor
|
|
Post by Connor Morrison on Mar 23, 2021 1:01:04 GMT
Rather unsteadily, Connor rose to his feet. He was sure he'd drunk more than Benedict throughout the course of the night, and although he was well-practiced at holding his drink, he was a fair few inches shorter than the Englishman, too. Even for the most experienced of drinkers, size and weight played a significant role. If his years as a student had taught him anything, however, it was how to keep himself on his feet even at his drunkest, and after only a brief stumble, he managed to right himself and ascend the few steps up into the house.
"No inconvenience," he assured Benedict over his shoulder. "Just give me a moment to find my waistcoat and jacket, would you? I will meet you outside." He knew he had discarded them sometime earlier in the evening, when the heat of the house had grown unbearable, but damned if he knew where they had ended up. One of these days, he was going to lose a perfectly good — and expensive — waistcoat that way. |
|
|
