The pair of them tried to contain their laughter.
"Did you know I like your Rogues?" Adele started down the stairs, and he leapt up several steps, one hand braced to catch her, before realizing she'd hauled her nightrobe up past her knees. Slim, delicate, bare calves flashed before him as she took slow, careful steps.
"Where are your shoes?" he demanded. "And your stockings?"
"Where's your cravat?" she replied, shrugging flirtatiously. "I like your cravat. Especially when you use it to—"
"Jesus Christ." Malloryn eased Adele up into his arms, reeling at the scent of brandy that steamed off her. "Did you drink the entire bottle of brandy by yourself?"
"I tried to talk them out of it, Your Grace." Ava looked chagrined as she appeared at the top of the stairs with Ingrid and Lark at her sides. "They wouldn't listen."
"When does anyone in this house bloody listen?" he growled under his breath as he strode back down the stairs and set Adele on her feet.
"He wants to know where my shoes are!" Adele called back up the stairs.
Ingrid slid down the bannister. "But that's not the theory!"
"Bloody hell," Byrnes said, and exchanged a long-suffering look with him. "We are in for a night of it."
"What theory?" Malloryn demanded.
"No, no, no!" Adele shook her hands in the air. "Ingrid wants to measure your boots. Don't let her! I wouldn't tell!"
"I'm so sorry, Your Grace," Ava repeated.
"It appears your wife is as much of a lightweight as Ava," Ingrid added, swinging off the bottom of the bannister. "She said she'd imbibed before."
"The punch is never as strong at the balls." Adele hiccupped. She set a hand to her temples, swaying slightly.
Malloryn swiftly caught her arm. "Are you all right?"
"I am most... excellent. Exceedingly excellent. Did you kill Lord Corvus? You don't have any blood on you."
"No, I did not. Do you want to sit down?"
Adele gave a little burp, and pressed her fingers to her lips in horror. "Oh, goodness. I don't think I feel very well."
He gaped at her.
"You need to get her upstairs and get some tea into her," Gemma muttered under her breath. "I did warn you that no matter what condition you found her in, tonight you had a certain duty to perform."
Yes, but holding my wife's hair out of her face as she casts up her accounts isn't even on the list of things I anticipated.
Getting her back up the stairs would be more hassle than it was worth. He swung her up into his arms. "Good God, how much have you had to drink?"
She held both hands about nine or ten inches apart with a giggle. "About this much." A slight frown wrinkled her brow. "Or was that the other thing we were discussing?"
"Definitely that much to drink," Ava blurted in a high-pitched voice.
Something was going on. His eyes narrowed. "Does this have anything to do with the size of my boots?"
"No!" Lark and Ingrid chorused together.
He did not want to know.
Herbert snapped his heels together. "I shall fetch Your Grace a clean chamber pot and some tea."
"There, there, Malloryn." Gemma patted him on the shoulder, grinning at him unsympathetically. "This is one of the joys of marriage."
Adele awoke with a groan.
Oh. My. Goodness.
She pressed her hands to her throbbing temples. There was far too much light in the room. What had happened? Where was she?
"Why," purred a dangerous voice, "if it isn't my favorite wife. How are you feeling, Adele?"
Malloryn.
She was in Malloryn's bed at the safe house. Adele rolled onto her side, realizing she was naked under the covers. With a squeak, she hauled them up to her chin, and then clapped a handful to her mouth as her stomach rebelled at the sudden movement. "What are you doing in here?"
Light streamed through the curtains he'd just jerked open, highlighting the dangerous smile on his mouth. "Well, I certainly wasn't sleeping, unlike others."
She managed to sit herself upright. Very slowly. "Where are my clothes?"
"Clara has very kindly removed them from the room, along with the chamber pot."
The chamber pot?
She groaned. There was a vile taste in the back of her throat. Faint recollections rose of lots and lots of brandy. Had there been singing at one stage?
"Apparently I'm not as good at hair as she is, though I did manage to braid most of it out of the way."
"Braid it back?" she asked in a horrified whisper, as images of the chamber pot resurfaced to haunt her. "Oh, no."
"Oh, yes, my favorite wife." Malloryn's smile was pure evil. "It was quite an eventful night. I have learned rather a lot about you. Including what you ate for dinner last night."
The only way to deal with such a statement was to ignore it.
"Why am I your favorite wife? I thought I was your only wife?" The world was spinning too much for her to put the pieces together.
"Well, apparently, I am your favorite husband. I am a very good husband, indeed." He said the titles simply, as if speaking them to a three year-old. "Am I a good husband, Clara?"
"The very best," Clara said promptly as she stepped into the light.
Adele hadn't even realized she was there.
"I hope you're feeling better, Duchess." There was a faint note of sympathy on Clara's face. "I've bought you up some tea. I wasn't certain if you were quite ready for breakfast."
The very idea of baked kippers made her stomach revolt again.
"Tea will be fine," she managed to whisper.
"Clara, would you be able to assist my wife with her toilette this afternoon? I don't want her to drown in the bath, and we have an important meeting to attend downstairs. Some of us have been putting together the pieces of what we learned at Angel's Fall."
"Certainly, Your Grace."
Malloryn strode for the door, and then paused, one hand on the knob as he glanced over his shoulder. "You may have to wash her. Thoroughly. Along with my boots."
"Your boots?"
Please tell me I did not....