Anthony was in a foul mood most of the evening, which dragged on the following day. He was becoming more and more frustrated in all matters concerning Lady Sarah Jane. Mr. Collins was very hard to locate, with his constant moving from place to place, and at his insistence that he was sorting out matters as best and quickly as he could, had responded to Anthony's letters only with cryptic, yet senseless assurances while urging the lord to be patient.
And then there was the trouble of his desire.
She was more irresistible now, and his mind refused to let him forget it. He remembered his lips on hers, his hands on her body, and the scent of her hair tangled with the sweetness of her breath halting him on his tracks and making him momentarily forget what he was doing.
He sought to bed someone, anyone, to finally be rid of this constant tightness and unspent desire. But every time he was on his way to a local tavern for a most willing wench, his bile crept up to his throat threatening to upturn his stomach.
Seeing as seeking a wench was quickly becoming a lost cause, he focused his attentions on finding an answer to his predicament. He had located his own solicitor but he hasn't been at all helpful since his own solicitor was not able to bring answers to a situation where there are many holes brought about by two dead lords, so obtaining answers for these holes was completely out of the question. He had sent out letters to the new estate managers about the possible change of ownership, and they did not sound surprised that another Lord Rosenberg would be taking over.
On nights where he found that sleep was evasive, he visited the nearest gentlemen's taproom and shared a few drinks with some old friends. His newly married friends also shared a few drinks with him, but they went home early, perhaps too eagerly, to their wives.
He was all the more sickened to be surrounded with happily married fools. He needed to focus on something more concrete. More manly.
One particular evening, Creston invited him for a game of billiards in his sprawling London mansion while his very pregnant duchess prepared baby clothes in the next parlor with Ravensdale's wife.
"Why don't you just marry her?" Came Creston's comment one evening, swirling his whiskey in his hand. Anthony had invited his brooding friend for some company, expecting himself to expire on the spot if he had not been able to voice out his concerns to someone, to anyone, really.
Anthony smirked, his chin retreating to his neck, a clear sign that he found his suggestion most unappealing. "Don't be absurd." He polished the leather tip of his stick with a bit of chalk and bent on the woolen green table to ascertain his shot.
Creston laughed, taking Anthony's expression lightly. "You don't want her marrying Lord Holt, you don't want her marrying any of the Foresters, who is good enough for her, then?"
"If you were in my place, you will not allow Lord Holt to have her either."
Creston agreed, "The Foresters then? They certainly have something within their name. The oldest one has a few scruples here and there, but what man doesn't?"
The ball missed its pocket, and Creston moved to settle himself over the table as Ravensdale casually strolled in the room.
"Our wives are making enough baby clothes for a village." Ravensdale declared trying to sound disapproving, but instead sounded more emotional than he would have liked to expose. He took in the sight of the two gentlemen and figured that they might be discussing something interesting while he was gone. "What are we talking about?"
"I've merely suggested a solution to Killsworth to rid him of his pain," Creston said as he pocketed his seventh ball, chuckling as he pointed at the blue color of the ball.
Ravensdale winced, empathizing with the male kind of pain. "How long?"
Creston snickered as he eyed his next shot, using his stick to measure the distance to the pocket. "From what I understand, since the arrival of Sarah Jane, wicked Killsworth had been entirely celibate."
"For the love of God." Killsworth was just about ready to strangle them both.
"Hell." Ravensdale shook his head as he climbed a stool. "You are in pain." He speared a pointed look at Killsworth's rigid stance and poor play, noting that Creston had easily beaten him at his game. "Have you tried Sam's tavern? They have very willing..."
"Do you fools think that I have not tried?" He said in between gritted teeth. Releasing a pent up breath as Creston missed his shot.
Both young dukes gave each other knowing glances and opted for a bit of silence as they considered their friend's situation.
"Well, I hate to wager on such sentimentality, but I think you might be in love with this chit."
Anthony missed the lead ball entirely, his cue stick slipping on his aim, which caused both men to topple over with unconcealed mirth.
"Indeed." Ravensdale said with a solid nod.
Creston clapped his friend's back. "I can certainly confess that I have been in such a situation, one I dare not to repeat."
"You fools are being ridiculous." Anthony stood as Creston pocketed the last ball, giving the win to him. In bitter defeat, he downed his glass and motioned for the door. "I bid you all a good evening."
"Ah, such a surly old man!" Creston said brightly as he tried to be encouraging. "Everything shall be in order, you see. It was clearly stated that if the Rosenberg title returns to the crown, you will have to honor a dead man's wish that is to see his daughter wed to the Killsworth heir. I think this solves all your problems quite well."
"Solves most of it. After consummating your marriage, you'd be rid of all your problems and your pain." Ravensdale added.
"I had not mentioned that letter to her." He said quietly, his resolve starting to show some cracks.
"What of it? Killsworth, you swept legions of married and unmarried ladies off their feet. Surely little Lady Sarah Jane wouldn't pose much of a problem." Creston replied coming to collect the balls from its pockets.
"Are you having trouble in that regard as well?" A mocking grin came to rest at Ravensdale's face, and Anthony understood that this might be the opportune time to leave these indomitable gentlemen in their own company.
He moved to depart, laughter from both gentlemen trailing behind him. A distinguishable voice bidding him sweet dreams as he inserted his arms in the holes of his coat. Exasperated, he descended the steps of the London mansion and trekked his way back home.
"Marry her? What a ridiculous idea." Anthony muttered under his breath as he kicked a stone off the pavement.
What was he thinking talking to these besotted fools?
—————-
A/N: updating a chapter, yay!! I sincerely hope you enjoyed this exchange! I wanted to show the readers how men usually reach their decisions. I saw my dad and brother do this a lot (and many of my male friends). They present their problem, usually in a humorous way if it's an awkward topic to talk about, and in an air of nonchalance if the problem is a bit serious.
Their friends would help them in a weird way too. They would discuss and intersperse insightful comments with humor and teasing. Haha did you notice this as well? What other human behaviors do you find intriguing? I've noticed this a lot since women tend to huddle up and be comforting with each other when one is sharing a problem, and for men it's what I mentioned above. Very curious haha
Anyway, thanks for reading the chapter! If you like it kindly consider giving it a vote :) comments and any kind of feedback is greatly appreciated!
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Teasing Your Wicked Heart
Historical Fiction[Reached # 2 on Regency and # 1 on Austen] After the death of her father, Lady Sarah Jane is passed around her inheriting cousins and uncles as the tolerated ward no one wanted to care for. Years later, when the last of her relatives passed, and wit...
