Phillip was an adult. Twenty-four years old, almost twenty-five, and he didn’t need his little brother telling him what to do. Phillip could manage his own life and do whatever he pleased, thank you very much.
He was the eldest son and heir of a marquis, after all.
Besides, was staying out all night truly the end of the world? Hardly! None of his friends had gone home at a reasonable hour last night either. However, as he attempted to recall the events of the previous evening, Phillip was not entirely sure of that. He continued shoveling his breakfast into his mouth, barely tasting the food. His head continued to throb with relentless persistency and his stomach roiled. Too much champagne could do that to a man, and he knew better.
Perhaps he had overindulged a little more than usual, but Lady Katherine Vickers had been particularly persuasive last night. The woman loved her champagne; what more could be said?
In any case, as soon as he was through eating his breakfast, he would escape to the quiet and solitude of his bedroom to recover in blessed peace.
“Are you still seeing her?”
His brother’s question sent a twinge of guilt through him. He wasn’t sure why that was. He’d done nothing wrong. Not really. Phillip met Simon’s eyes with a direct gaze.
“Would it be too much for you to let me eat in silence this morning?” he ground out.
Simon gave him an amused smile and leaned back casually in his chair. “Yes, actually it would.”
“Have you nothing better to do today than annoy me?”
Phillip usually wasn’t so short with his younger brother. In fact, they got on quite well together and were closer than most siblings. But this morning, with his head pounding, his patience was gone.
“Not a thing,” Simon murmured with a relaxed air, folding his arms across his chest. “I thought you said you were ending things with the fair widow?”
Phillip gave a careless shrug. “It seems things have changed.”
He didn’t care what anyone said. He enjoyed being with Lady Katherine Vickers. She was different from all the other women he knew. There was something incredibly exciting and intoxicating about her. She possessed a worldly sophistication and seductive glamour that he was powerless to resist.
Most importantly, she made him feel like a man. Probably because she treated him like one.
Unlike anyone else in his family, Phillip thought in disgust. He was tired of everyone telling him what he should and shouldn’t do. Ever since his two Hamilton cousins had married during the past year, it seemed the pressure was now on him to be the next one to head down the aisle and tie the knot.
Phillip simply wasn’t interested in marriage and the responsibility of a wife and family. Not yet anyway. He wished to have some fun before settling down and wanted to be free of obligation for just a little while longer, which didn’t seem an unreasonable request to his way of thinking.
Simon’s eyes narrowed. “That’s very interesting.”
Shoving the last of some buttered toast into his mouth, Phillip pushed away his empty plate and stood up, glancing at Simon as he did so. He’d had quite enough. As he walked from the dining room table, he heard his brother snicker, and it irritated him more than it should have. He didn’t care for Simon acting superior to him, but Phillip was too weary to argue with him.
In spite of his current state of exhaustion, Phillip hustled up the wide staircase of Devon House, his ancestral home. One day this grand and beautiful house and all its expensive and priceless contents would belong to him.
Devon House was a bit of a local landmark at five stories high and almost a city block long. The magnificent, white, Georgian-style building possessed tall Palladian windows on the first floor, which led up to gabled windows on the top floor. The well-designed and classic-looking structure had a curving marble staircase that graced an imposing front entrance with double doors of polished mahogany. The interior of the dignified and elegant home was even more impressive than the exterior.
Yet, Phillip took no notice of any of it as he hurried up the staircase to his bedroom. Being the heir had its benefits, but it also had its burdens. And lately, he seemed to be more burdened by everything in his life than reaping any benefits.
Nothing seemed to appeal to him anymore. None of his usual interests anyway. Lately, the pressure to be the ideal son, to be the exemplary heir, and to meet all the obligations that were required of him was too crushing and all consuming. He was expected to live up to his parents’ perfect marriage and his cousins’ perfect marriages. He was tired of trying to be perfect. He felt boxed in and hemmed in, as if he were a hothouse plant that had no room to grow.
He was trapped in a flawless life that was predestined for him, and no one seemed to understand that he had been given no choice in any of it.
“Ah, there you are, Phillip.”
Phillip froze with his hand on the doorknob of his bedroom door.
He had been so close to a clean escape! This was not going to be pretty. He knew exactly what was going to be said to him, and he did not want to hear it.
With an exasperated sigh, Phillip turned reluctantly to face his father.
Lucien Sinclair, the Marquis of Stancliff, was a tall man who walked with great confidence and authority as he stepped closer to his son. His dark brows drew together in concern, and something else . . . perhaps disappointment?
Glancing away, Phillip avoided his father’s disapproving eyes.
“Phillip.”
“Father.”
Lucien stopped a few feet from him. “You’re just getting home, aren’t you?”
“I just finished having breakfast.” Phillip evaded the question. “I’m going to rest for a bit. I have a crushing headache this morning.”
His father’s voice hardened. “Yes, I should imagine you would have a nasty headache. One usually accompanies a hangover.”
There was a weighted pause.
Phillip remained silent, for there was nothing else to say. He hadn’t the energy to deny the truth. With his fingers itching to turn the doorknob, he stood still. He was mere inches to being in the comfort of his luxurious bed. His entire body ached and throbbed with the need to lie down and hide from the world.
“I thought I made it perfectly clear last week, and the week before that, how I felt about your behavior of late and of the questionable company you’ve been keeping.” The tone of his father’s voice was ominous.
“Yes, sir. I recall our conversations.”
How could Phillip not? He hated disappointing his father and had felt like a miscreant schoolboy those evenings in his study. Was the last time only a week ago? Or longer? He seemed to have lost track of time.
At some point in the not too distant past, he had promised his father that he would curb his wilder ways. That he would drink less. Gamble less. He had vowed that he’d stop cavorting with Lady Katherine Vickers. He had meant to keep all those promises too. Truly he had.
