Most of the residents of Marblestone Mansion gave up waiting for the master of the house and his butlers to come home, and went to bed. Keith sat in the parlor and tried not to close his eyes, but the hour got later and later, until at last, he succumbed to the need for sleep. When the front door loudly slammed, a startled Keith jumped up and hurried into the foyer. "Sssh," Keith tried, but he was greeted by two silly grins and the strong smell of whiskey.
McKenna had not yet gone to bed, and still sat in the upstairs sitting room worried that her brother was enraged enough to seriously hurt someone. He did not always know his own strength and had nearly killed a man in Scotland, although the man deserved what he got. Still, this was America, not Scotland, where the word of a duke was never in question. When the door slammed, she was relived and headed for the stairs. A few seconds later, she too was looking at his silly grin and unfocused eyes.
"Hannish MacGreagor, you are drunk," McKenna said, walking into the foyer. Been in a fight too, I see. Are you not a little old to be brawlin'?" With Keith trying to hold him up on one side, she slipped Hannish's arm over her shoulders on the other, and tried to help steady his wobbling knees.
"But sisser," he slurred, "'Twas…the best fright I've…had. Alistair took free…" He tried to hold up three fingers, but couldn't quite tell how many there were.
"Aye, but where might Prescot be? Have you left him somewhere?" McKenna asked.
Hannish wrinkled his brow and slowly looked around for Prescot.
Certain he would fall down if he didn't, Alistair sat down on a window seat. His hat had begun to slide forward, but instead of catching it, he looked up and watched. "Pressy be…(hic)…horses, Yer ace."
Hannish suddenly stood up straight. "I said, dinna call me that! 'Tis what…started…the fright." He soon slumped again.
"Forgime,…(hic)Yerace." Alistair finally pushed his hat up, touched a cut on his lip and checked his fingers for blood. He tried hard to make his eyes focus and when they wouldn't, he decided he didn't care anyway and let his hand fall to his lap.
McKenna examined the small cut on her brother's forehead, the start of a bruise on his cheek and then rolled her eyes. "Keith, help me get him up to bed."
Alistair groaned and started to fall over sideways. "I shall…here."
"Alistair…" Hannish started.
"Never mind, that," said McKenna. "Off to bed with you."