It was a struggle getting Hannish up the stairs and she was surprised to see Charlotte at the top watching. Just before she and Keith got Hannish into his room, she said, "Thank you, Charlotte, go back to bed."
"Yes, Miss." Even so, Charlotte stayed in the hallway, hoping Hannish would notice that it was she who cared most about him. Too soon, McKenna closed the door.
*
Sprawled on the parlor floor with a blanket covering him and his hat lopsided on his head, Alistair opened one eye and then the other. He was alarmed to find himself so exposed and tried to sit up, but when the room began to spin, he lay back down. He turned on his side, pulled the blanket over his backside and went back to sleep. The next thing he knew, Hannish was sitting on the floor beside him, pouring half a glass of whiskey.
"Drink this, 'twill help." Hannish offered his arm, helped Alistair sit up and watched him down most of the liquid. "Will you survive?"
Alistair quickly handed it back and grabbed hold of his aching head with both hands. "I do hope so, Sir."
Hannish poured another half glass of whiskey and held it out, but when Alistair refused, he drank the contents himself. "Prescot is some fighter. I had no idea he was a boxer before he came to Colorado. I dinna believe there is a scratch on him."
"Not a scratch?" Alistair asked.
"Tell me, why do you think Olivia brought Graham with her? She must have known I would find out and suspect the worst."
Alistair had a feeling he had said way too much the night before, although he could not quite remember what. Stalling for time, he began to rub the back of his neck and move his head from side to side, hoping to alleviate the headache. "Graham, Sir?"
"Alistair, we are old friends, you can tell me the truth."
He eyed the glass until Hannish noticed and refilled it. Then he took another two gulps. "Your wife does not confide in me."
"Does she hope to marry this stonemason?"
"Give up her title?" Alistair scoffed. "I hardly think that likely unless…"
"Unless a better title has come along?"
Alistair wrinkled his brow. "What could be better than a duke?"
"A Prince?"
Again, Alistair scoffed. "The Queen frowns on divorce and none of Victoria's sons would be that stupid."
"You've not seen a foreign prince or two paying Olivia undue attention, then?"
"Nay, Sir." Alistair abruptly realized where he was and caught his breath. "Have the others seen me…like this, I mean?"