As if Owen sensed that he was getting nowhere fast, he squeezed Thomas’ shoulder and gave a great sigh before saying, "Well, I think we ought to turn in for the night. I have invited several of the men to join us on tomorrow's hunt, though I do wonder how many of them shall be up for it after all the alcohol we consumed this evening."
Thomas merely grunted agreement, deciding it was best not to make comment on the other men who had been invited into his home. Though he could think of nothing worse than spending time with those arrogant and quite frankly, boring men, it was a small price to pay for a little time with his old friend after having lost him for almost a month to his wife and his honeymoon.
"I look forward to it." Thomas forced a smile and offered his friend a nod of farewell. "Good night."
Thomas was aware of the fact that had he been any other man, Owen would likely have waited up until he had departed to bed yet they had been like brothers for so long, the lord seemed more than comfortable with leaving him to his own devices in his home.
It was perhaps down to how much he had drunk also, and Thomas stifled laughter as he watched his friend stumble from the room, rethinking his stance on whether or not his friend might have it in him for his duties in the marital bed.
"My lord, can I offer you any assistance?" Owen's butler asked upon returning from his orders to see the other guests were properly situated. Thomas had been sitting, quietly contemplating the events of the evening for a few minutes, enjoying the sudden quiet that had fallen upon the manor. He straightened up in his seat and handed his empty glass to the man with a shake of his head.
"I think I ought to find my bed," he told the man and on second thought, he stopped and glanced over his shoulder from where he had begun to cross the room. "Might I ask you something?"
"Anything, my lord," the elder, balding gentleman nodded, standing to attention as if awaiting his orders from a drill sergeant.
"Is the Lord Kendall truly as happy as he makes himself out to be?" Thomas asked, knowing that if anyone would know then it was the man who served him and his wife day in and day out, following them even on their honeymoon across Europe.
The butler, who had been Owen's father's butler before him, regarded Thomas with some scrutiny for a few moments, obviously battling with his loyalty to his master and whether he ought to offer the truth or simply decline.
"The Viscount appears quite content with his wife," the butler told him as though he had guessed exactly what Thomas was truly looking for. His expressionless face softened and for a moment he looked sympathetic as he added, "You need not worry, my lord, you will find your own happiness."
Thomas' hackles rose at how easily the butler had read him, but then he quickly reminded himself that the man had been around for practically his entire life and his entire friendship with the now Viscount.
"Good night," he told the man, offering him an appreciative nod for his honesty and his words of hope though deep-down Thomas was not sure he could believe them.
Feeling drained from the events of the day, and slightly lightheaded from the amount of liquor and wine he had consumed during the evening, he left the room with the butler's well wishes and began to make his way to his guest room, hoping that the next day would not be quite so antagonizing as he was expecting it to be.
As Thomas had expected many of the men within the party were insufferable. Where he usually found solace in hunting, he only found aggravation in the form of men who could not learn to keep their mouths shut or stop themselves from stomping through the undergrowth like a herd of wild animals.
After their conversation the night before, and having kept his mouth buttoned for several hours, Thomas found a quiet moment alone with Owen to ask, "Can you tell me honestly how your wife thinks any of these men are husband material?"
Owen looked up from where he had stopped to hand his gun to his manservant. The man quickly took it from him and offered a second, readying the first for when it was required almost as soon as it hit his hand. Thomas watched the young man tearing open the gunpowder packet with his teeth and hurrying to reload the weapon so not to keep his lord waiting.
All throughout the woodland similar situations were occurring, though Thomas was certain the other manservants were moving much more slowly with their own lords having little care for the hunt. Many of them seemed more amused with chattering amongst themselves like hens. Thomas could not help but think they would have been better off remaining at the manor with the ladies.
Owen lowered his gun and turned to look at Thomas with an intrigued expression upon his face. His raised eyebrow dropped, furrowing as he asked, "Thomas, if I did not know any better, I would say that you were jealous."
"Jealous? What could I possibly have to be jealous of?" Thomas demanded, perhaps a little too quickly. Hearing the telltale signs of people moving in the brush close by, he leaned closer and lowered his voice as he added, "Most of these men are simpering idiots."
Amusement began to play upon Owen's face, and he placed the tip of his gun on the ground, leaning on the butt and making Thomas feel quite uncomfortable with the disrespect shown to such a weapon. He bit his lip in order to stop himself from saying something to his friend, certain from the look on his face that he would only take it as Thomas' way of quickly trying to change the subject.
"I have never heard you so open in your judgement of your peers, Thomas," Owen said, his brow twitching with suspicion. He watched Thomas closely, barely blinking as though he did not wish to miss a single thing that he might be able to use against him, merely to aggravate him or entice him into their old boyish tomfoolery.
"All Baron Colton has to talk about is his business which really is not very interesting," Thomas pointed out firmly, determined not to back down under his friend's scrutiny. "His brother has even less to talk about and follows the Baron around as if he were a lapdog. Mr Gouldsmith appears quite full of himself with no real talent to show for it, and many of the others are too foolish even to be able to keep their mouths shut when stalking."
Hearing someone yelling as if they had stumbled into something, perhaps a rabbit hole, Thomas gestured at the flock of birds that fluttered up from the trees above their heads to illustrate his point.
"Thomas, are you quite sure you do not feel this way because of Miss Skeffington?" Owen asked and at his question Thomas felt all the colour draining from his face. Almost instantly it returned, doubling until he felt so red cheeked that his ears began to turn red also.
"That is preposterous!" he exclaimed almost without thinking, "What possible reason could I have to align myself in favour of Miss Skeffington? She is of no concern of mine."
Owen's expression and the way he tipped his head, looking at Thomas with a pointed look suggested that he was not convinced in the slightest by his words and Thomas' stomach clenched, realising that he had not entirely believed them himself.
"Forgive me for overhearing, my lord, but may I assume that I am counted amongst the number of men you find displeasing?"
The voice that came from the undergrowth behind Thomas made him jump instantly and he cursed himself, wondering who could have possibly snuck up on them like that after all the stomping that had been going on.
He quickly turned, having no intention of apologising for his words, until he came face to face with Mr Tulk.