Ambrose took one look at his brother and swore. “Well, that went well.”
“Obviously.” Anthony muttered as a squashed strawberry fell out of his jacket and tumbled onto the floor.
“I thought he didn’t like strawberries?” Wilde said to Ambrose, “It seems that if he was so offended by said fruit he wouldn’t take to bathing in them, which is the only conclusion I can come up with considering his state of dress.”
“It is my calculation,” Anthony sat on a nearby chair and cringed when the sticky juice of the strawberry ran down his legs, “that when the lady could find no daggers, swords, or pistols, she became desperate and decided to torture me with my favorite fruit.”
“She was successful, no doubt.” Ambrose smiled and let out a chuckle.
“I shouldn’t have kissed her.”
“Idiot,” Ambrose replied.
“Dolt,” Wilde agreed.
“What did you expect me to do? I apologized! I went down on one knee and I had this speech, truly it was a speech that would bring even Byron to tears, and then when I saw her lips and her face I lost—“
“—complete control of your mind, no doubt.” Wilde shook his head. “If you do not fix this then Gemma will never speak to me again! Women have to stick together, after all.”
At Anthony’s irritated look Wilde apologized. “Well, it’s not that I’m not concerned for you and the lovely lady, and yes perhaps I’m being a mite selfish, but saints alive, Anthony! I’ve never met a man so horrid at proposals and apologies in my life! And just this last year Ambrose apologized to Lady Cordelia by giving her a dead plant!”
“Now see here!” Ambrose roared. “I didn’t know it was dead until after I gave it to her.”
“That makes it so much better.” Anthony closed his eyes while his brother and Wilde continued to bicker. They were both right, perhaps he should allow the lady to shoot him—anything would feel better than the pain he was feeling at present.
Bridget. She deserved the prince, the white horse, the pretty words. She deserved it all, and he had kissed her instead.
Well, no more. He was going to do this right, even if it killed him, which to be truthful was a very real possibility.
“Right then.” He pulled himself to his feet and began walking towards the door.
“Where are you going?”Ambrose asked.