by Ella Edon
Excusing himself, David started to make his way up to his bedchamber. He needed to get to bed and lie down before he fell down. Somehow, he managed to get his shoes off, his trousers and waistcoat, crawling into bed in his stockings and shirt. His fingers were fumbling to try and get the buttons undone, so David had given up.
Sleep often came very slowly for David, but as soon as his head lay on the pillow and his eyes closed, David didn’t remember anything else. He slept so deeply he barely moved in the night, whereas he would normally be tossing and turning, kicking the sheets away. Whatever was going on with him tonight, it was certainly enough to knock him out.
The next thing David was aware of was someone shaking his shoulder, making his head spin. David growled and swiped at whatever was shaking him.
“Go away. Leave me alone.”
“My apologies, Mr. Harrison, but I can’t.”
David cracked an eye open and saw the fair-haired, round-faced young man he used as a valet leaning over him. That was an even worse sight than David expected. He groaned and turned away.
“I said go away, Arnold.”
Benjamin Arnold sighed and shook him again. “Mr. Harrison, you need to get up,” he said urgently. “You’ve got a visitor.”
A visitor at this time? David lifted his head and tried to look at the clock, but his vision was blurry. He couldn’t read the time.
“What time is it?”
“Just after nine.”
He was supposed to have left for the ferry at seven. David wouldn’t get the ferry he wanted now. He would go tomorrow, he decided, and drew his sheets over his head.
“Tell him to come back at a more appropriate time,” he said under the bedding. “It’s too early.”
“But it’s Mr. Mitchell, the parish constable,” Arnold hissed. “He wants to speak to you right now, and he won’t go away until you’re spoken to.”
The parish constable? David had had a few run-ins with Paul Mitchell, a minor baron who had taken it upon himself to work for the local judge. He was a lackey, basically, and he would often come along with a drunk Peter to make sure he got him. He was very nosy, and David had no time for him. The man seemed to think everything was something he needed to hear, even if it was completely irrelevant.
He was the male version of the gossiping women at the many balls and galas David had managed to avoid over the years. Part of the reason was because of people like Paul Mitchell.
The man was persistent. He wouldn’t leave until David had spoken to him, so sighing heavily, he pushed the sheets away and slowly sat up.
“All right, fine. I’ll get up.”
It was very difficult to do so, though. David’s head felt so heavy he could barely get it off the pillow. His skull felt like it was in a vice-like grip. He sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and closed his eyes, waiting for the room to stop spinning. Arnold shook his head with a disapproving look.
“You really shouldn’t drink with your brother, Mr. Harrison. He can handle it. You can’t.”
“What are you talking about? I didn’t drink anything stronger than tea.”
“Are you sure about that? You look like you’re suffering from a hangover.”
David swallowed hard, trying not to throw up. He wouldn’t put it past Peter to put some alcohol into his tea so it would knock him out. If he did, it was a hefty dose. David felt like he was making his way through a thick fog.
“Well, I must be coming down with something.” He stood slowly, closing his eyes as the room tilted. “Let’s get me dressed.”
Arnold said nothing more, rushing around to help David wash himself and get dressed. They didn’t bother to get David shaved, David flinching when he saw his razor laid out beside the washbasin before waving it away. He was feeling sick, and the last thing he wanted near his throat when he was struggling was a sharp blade.
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Ella Edon is an American author of steamy historical Regency romance books. She started pursuing her childhood passion of putting stories to paper after experiencing two of the most life changing experiences of her life.
Her books have received rave reviews for the romance, the character’s depth, the intrigue and the turmoil they have.
She lives in New Orleans, Louisiana with her loving husband and candy sweet daughter. Before she started writing Regency romance, Ella was working in a phone center, despite the fact that she majored in English Literature. However, her restless spirit lead her to chase her dream and now she is devoted into sharing her stories with the world.
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