The door to the drawing room had been left partially closed. Arthur raised his fist to knock but suddenly halted. Now that he thought about it, what did Alfred talk about with Francis? He knew that they were ‘friends’ – in the loosest sense of the word – but they were not in any business ventures together that would be a cause for them to have such serious discussions.
“You already have what you wanted, mon ami, I think you are pushing your luck,” Francis’ thick tone trickled through the slight crack between door and door post.
“Lady Luck loves me,” Alfred’s boasting could be clearly heard even without pressing an ear to the wood. “Besides, if they choose to play then that’s a risk they take. They just don’t learn.”
Francis sighed. “You already have what you wanted. Don’t provoke them.”
Laughter boomed. Arthur had never heard Alfred laugh as loudly as he did. “Are you worried about me, Francis?”
“I think you are being a fool, that’s all.” Displeasure gave an edge to his voice. “You know how vicious nobles can be, especially when they’re playing games and trust me, mon ami, all of life is a game to them. You already have what you wanted.”
There. Again. Arthur wondered what Francis meant when he kept repeating ‘you already have what you wanted.’ He knew that Alfred gambled – boasted about his good luck in the game – but were they also involved in something shady?
Well, it was none of his business, Arthur obstinately told himself and with that rapped his knuckles against the door before pushing it open.
“Your wine, sirs,” he announced, curling his tongue around the word ‘sirs’ so that it dripped with sarcasm.
“Arthur?” Alfred’s shock was the first to register in his brain. “I remember asking you to send Emily,” he stood, taking the decanter of wine from him. There was slight anger in his voice, not enough to really be recognisable but just enough to shake Arthur a bit.
“Emily is currently out shopping,” Arthur replied curtly. He did not want to be in the room a moment longer if he was going to be treated with such ingratitude.
Turning on his heels, he marched back to the kitchen, scowling to himself. What was that? Just because he had come instead of Emily was no reason for Alfred to get so upset, surely he was just as good as she was at serving him.
“Git!” he growled at the far wall. He flung a damp tea cloth at it, imagining that it was Alfred’s face.
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [12/?]
The door to the drawing room had been left partially closed. Arthur raised his fist to knock but suddenly halted. Now that he thought about it, what did Alfred talk about with Francis? He knew that they were ‘friends’ – in the loosest sense of the word – but they were not in any business ventures together that would be a cause for them to have such serious discussions.
“You already have what you wanted, mon ami, I think you are pushing your luck,” Francis’ thick tone trickled through the slight crack between door and door post.
“Lady Luck loves me,” Alfred’s boasting could be clearly heard even without pressing an ear to the wood. “Besides, if they choose to play then that’s a risk they take. They just don’t learn.”
Francis sighed. “You already have what you wanted. Don’t provoke them.”
Laughter boomed. Arthur had never heard Alfred laugh as loudly as he did. “Are you worried about me, Francis?”
“I think you are being a fool, that’s all.” Displeasure gave an edge to his voice. “You know how vicious nobles can be, especially when they’re playing games and trust me, mon ami, all of life is a game to them. You already have what you wanted.”
There. Again. Arthur wondered what Francis meant when he kept repeating ‘you already have what you wanted.’ He knew that Alfred gambled – boasted about his good luck in the game – but were they also involved in something shady?
Well, it was none of his business, Arthur obstinately told himself and with that rapped his knuckles against the door before pushing it open.
“Your wine, sirs,” he announced, curling his tongue around the word ‘sirs’ so that it dripped with sarcasm.
“Arthur?” Alfred’s shock was the first to register in his brain. “I remember asking you to send Emily,” he stood, taking the decanter of wine from him. There was slight anger in his voice, not enough to really be recognisable but just enough to shake Arthur a bit.
“Emily is currently out shopping,” Arthur replied curtly. He did not want to be in the room a moment longer if he was going to be treated with such ingratitude.
Turning on his heels, he marched back to the kitchen, scowling to himself. What was that? Just because he had come instead of Emily was no reason for Alfred to get so upset, surely he was just as good as she was at serving him.
“Git!” he growled at the far wall. He flung a damp tea cloth at it, imagining that it was Alfred’s face.