The Christmas Wager by Jamie Fessenden Read Free Book Online

never
    gives in. The old bugger is up to something.‖
    Andrew smiled at that. ―Well, are you coming in, then?‖
    ―I think I‘ll have hot water brought up for a bath,‖ Thomas
    said, leaning his head wearily against the door frame, ―Would
    you care to join me for a brandy?‖
    Andrew laughed. ―In the bath?‖
    ―No,‖ Thomas replied with a tired smile, ―that isn‘t
    precisely what I meant.‖
    A short time later, Andrew was sitting in his dressing gown,
    sipping a brandy near the tub in Thomas‘s room. This, too, had
    become a ritual with them, back at the University Club—one of
    them bathing, while the other sat nearby, enjoying one of their
    lengthy philosophical conversations.
    But Thomas didn‘t appear to be feeling philosophical
    tonight. He sat in the water, steam billowing about him,
    sipping his own brandy snifter and brooding. After a couple
    glasses, he was beginning to get a little tipsy. ―I really don‘t see
    that we‘ll have any attendance at the dance, at all. It‘s going to
    be an unqualified disaster.‖
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    ―We shall see,‖ Andrew replied. He was used to Thomas‘s
    dark moods, and knew not to take them overly seriously. ―Have
    the invitations gone out yet?‖
    ―No!‖ Thomas gestured dramatically with his glass,
    splashing some brandy into the tub. ―That‘s part of the problem.
    Henrietta is still preparing them.‖
    ―Who is Henrietta?‖ Andrew looked at him quizzically. ―I
    thought your mother said she would take care of it.‖
    ―She did take care of it—by ordering Henrietta to do it.
    She‘s my mother‘s personal secretary.‖
    ―I see where your streak of industriousness comes from.‖
    Thomas smirked at him. ―Are you disparaging my mother,
    blackguard?‖
    ―Of course not. I would never—‖
    Before he could finish, Thomas had staggered to his feet, a
    bit tipsy and dripping with water. He brandished his snifter at
    his friend like a weapon. ―If I weren‘t a bit drunk—and naked—
    I would call you out, scoundrel.‖
    Andrew laughed, but he found the sight of Thomas‘s
    naked crotch so near, and at eye level, extremely disconcerting.
    He set his glass down on the floor, then stood to take Thomas‘s
    out of his hand. The man offered no resistance.
    ―Sit down, you fool, before you slip and break your neck.‖
    ―The water is getting cold, at any rate.‖
    ―Then let me help you out,‖ Andrew said, slipping his arms
    underneath Thomas‘s armpits. Thomas wrapped his own arms
    around Andrew‘s shoulders in a soaking wet embrace, allowing
    his friend to half lift him out of the metal tub.
    Andrew found Thomas‘s towel and wrapped it around him
    before settling the man on the chair he‘d been using himself.
    Then he held out his arms, taking in the sodden arms of his
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    dressing gown. ―Well, that ends my evening. I think I shall
    retire to my room and crawl into a nice dry bed.‖
    He wasn‘t certain whether Thomas would find his way to
    bed, if he left, or simply fall asleep in the chair. So he helped
    his friend up again, made certain he was reasonably dry—at
    least so far as his sense of honor would allow—then helped
    Thomas climb into his own bed.
    ―There you go.‖
    ―Andrew, you are the best friend a man could ever ask for.‖
    Andrew smiled, feeling self-conscious. ―Everybody‘s a
    bosom friend when you‘re drunk.‖
    ―I‘m not that drunk,‖ Thomas protested, ―and I mean it.
    You‘re wonderful, and I adore you.‖
    That made Andrew even more uncomfortable. He smiled
    faintly and permitted himself a light brush of his fingers along
    Thomas‘s forehead and cheek—to brush the hair out of his
    eyes, he told himself. ―Sleep well.‖
    Then he went back to his room. He doubted he would
    sleep well. Not after that. Oh, why did Thomas have to be so
    prone to these bouts of melancholic affection? They made
    Andrew‘s life agony.
    The