Julian said, his sarcasm evident. "Orders like, 'I do not wish to be disturbed' or 'Let anyone in at your own peril'."
"Do not wish to be disturbed?" Charles raked his hand through his slightly long, blonde yet graying hair. "Do you expect me to wait around all day while your man finds out if you're home when I know damned well you are?"
The duke gave a low chuckle and watched his friend drop himself uninvited into the chair across from him. It was true that Charles never waited for anything, especially something as tedious as being announced, though decorum and manners dictated it be so.
"I'll have a word with Craigs. Now, shouldn't you still be at home, listening to Lady Blackburn scold you for coming home in the wee hours?" Julian asked. "You really overdid it at White's last night. I haven't seen you drink that much since we celebrated old Barnby's marriage, and that was twenty-five years ago or more. We really must stop celebrating his birthdays — they always end in a week of misery to my head."
"I don't know whether you realize it, but you're the one that looks the very devil, and it's already past noon." said Charles. "It was certainly you who was foxed last night, but we have not the time for this. Why aren't you more distressed? I feel positively ill at what we've done."
"Blackburn, stop acting like an old scold," Julian interrupted with a scowl, perplexed and annoyed at his friend's alarm. "If I wanted someone to nag me to death, I would have remarried long ago. Tell me what this is about."
Charles stood from his chair, his jaw slack and his eyes wide. "You dog, you don't remember," he said, as he begun to pace the floor. "You don't remember, and Maddie is extremely angry — with the both of us I might add, not only me. She's had Edward and me up since before the breakfast hour coming up with a plan to mend this ... this chaos! And you know she's right, it's the only plan that makes any sense. Our children must marry and quickly. Should we start the banns this Sunday? Or wait 'til the house party? That may be better," Charles muttered to himself.
"Banns?" Julian asked in a shamefully high-pitched voice before swallowing hard. "Charles, I have come to think of your penchant for babbling as an endearing quality over the years, but you usually make sense. I haven't the slightest idea of what you are referring to. Sit down, be quiet, and let me think."
Julian held Charles' defiant gaze as he looked his friend straight in the eye. When he broke, he picked up the glass before him and downed the drink in one swift gulp, feeling dread creep upon him instead of relief from the soda tonic.
He hurriedly tried to recall the night before. There was brandy, talks of dowries, brandy, discussions of grandchildren, and again, the cursed brandy. He remembered his friends cheering and congratulating them, shaking their hands and passing around more celebratory drinks as they all talked of a wedding.
Oh hell , thought the duke, his dark eyes widening and snapping to Charles' blue.
"Cottoned on, have you?" Charles asked flatly, miffed at being ordered into the chair, a chair he was standing next to and most assuredly not sitting in.
Julian groaned and laid his head back upon his desk with a hard crack, not even minding the dull throb as it intensified. It seemed — in their unfortunately drunken state the night before — the duke and the earl discussed a betrothal between their children. No, discussed was too mild. Announced.
They announced a marriage between their households to God and anyone else who would listen.
"It cannot be that dreadful," he said, looking up at Charles, hoping against hope his memory served him ill. "Who will have remembered? We were all jug-bitten. Furthermore, not one of our friends care for such news, so will they even remember?"
Charles glared. "Of course they don't care, but that is not the problem here, Julian, their wives do and you can rest assured that they will remember once
"Do not wish to be disturbed?" Charles raked his hand through his slightly long, blonde yet graying hair. "Do you expect me to wait around all day while your man finds out if you're home when I know damned well you are?"
The duke gave a low chuckle and watched his friend drop himself uninvited into the chair across from him. It was true that Charles never waited for anything, especially something as tedious as being announced, though decorum and manners dictated it be so.
"I'll have a word with Craigs. Now, shouldn't you still be at home, listening to Lady Blackburn scold you for coming home in the wee hours?" Julian asked. "You really overdid it at White's last night. I haven't seen you drink that much since we celebrated old Barnby's marriage, and that was twenty-five years ago or more. We really must stop celebrating his birthdays — they always end in a week of misery to my head."
"I don't know whether you realize it, but you're the one that looks the very devil, and it's already past noon." said Charles. "It was certainly you who was foxed last night, but we have not the time for this. Why aren't you more distressed? I feel positively ill at what we've done."
"Blackburn, stop acting like an old scold," Julian interrupted with a scowl, perplexed and annoyed at his friend's alarm. "If I wanted someone to nag me to death, I would have remarried long ago. Tell me what this is about."
Charles stood from his chair, his jaw slack and his eyes wide. "You dog, you don't remember," he said, as he begun to pace the floor. "You don't remember, and Maddie is extremely angry — with the both of us I might add, not only me. She's had Edward and me up since before the breakfast hour coming up with a plan to mend this ... this chaos! And you know she's right, it's the only plan that makes any sense. Our children must marry and quickly. Should we start the banns this Sunday? Or wait 'til the house party? That may be better," Charles muttered to himself.
"Banns?" Julian asked in a shamefully high-pitched voice before swallowing hard. "Charles, I have come to think of your penchant for babbling as an endearing quality over the years, but you usually make sense. I haven't the slightest idea of what you are referring to. Sit down, be quiet, and let me think."
Julian held Charles' defiant gaze as he looked his friend straight in the eye. When he broke, he picked up the glass before him and downed the drink in one swift gulp, feeling dread creep upon him instead of relief from the soda tonic.
He hurriedly tried to recall the night before. There was brandy, talks of dowries, brandy, discussions of grandchildren, and again, the cursed brandy. He remembered his friends cheering and congratulating them, shaking their hands and passing around more celebratory drinks as they all talked of a wedding.
Oh hell , thought the duke, his dark eyes widening and snapping to Charles' blue.
"Cottoned on, have you?" Charles asked flatly, miffed at being ordered into the chair, a chair he was standing next to and most assuredly not sitting in.
Julian groaned and laid his head back upon his desk with a hard crack, not even minding the dull throb as it intensified. It seemed — in their unfortunately drunken state the night before — the duke and the earl discussed a betrothal between their children. No, discussed was too mild. Announced.
They announced a marriage between their households to God and anyone else who would listen.
"It cannot be that dreadful," he said, looking up at Charles, hoping against hope his memory served him ill. "Who will have remembered? We were all jug-bitten. Furthermore, not one of our friends care for such news, so will they even remember?"
Charles glared. "Of course they don't care, but that is not the problem here, Julian, their wives do and you can rest assured that they will remember once
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