"You needn't interrupt your pleasure on my account, Dare," Nicholas said as they descended the front steps of the unassuming house in the theater district.
"I did not find the performance much of a pleasure, I'm afraid," Clune replied. "Truthfully, it has been ages since any entertainment has held me enthralled." He nodded toward his carriage, which awaited him a few paces along the darkened street. "May I offer you a lift back to your hotel? Or some other destination? A gaming club, perhaps?"
"I am returning to my hotel, but I planned to walk. You are welcome to join me, if you care to."
"Walk?" Clune said in amusement. "On foot? What a novel idea."
Patting his belly, Nick forced a grin. "This indolent life of a privileged gentleman is turning me shiftless and lazy."
"And restless, it seems."
"Ah, no, that is nothing new."
"You realize, of course, that you are taking your life in your hands, walking alone this near Covent Garden."
Nicholas raised his walking stick, which concealed a deadly rapier. "I could use some excitement to enliven the evening."
Clune cocked his head thoughtfully. "I share your ennui, if not your restlessness. Perhaps I will join you."
"Be my guest, but I warn you, I may not be the best of company just now."
"Then we will be well matched."
Nicholas sent him a penetrating glance. "Any particular reason you say so?"
"Nothing of consequence," Clune answered lightly. "Perhaps I'm merely growing jaded in my waning years. I suppose even a dedicated libertine can begin to tire of a life of sin and debauchery."
Tactfully Nicholas refrained from comment. Clune's age was hardly an issue – he was still in his early thirties at most – but the years of hard living were evidently taking a toll on his soul.
The earl dismissed his carriage and fell into step beside Nicholas. A moment later Clune spoke, sounding surprisingly serious. "To be honest, my dark mood is probably due to my grandfather."
"I hear Wolverton is faring poorly."
"Quite. He isn't expected to live out the month."
"Are you close?"
"Not in the least. He's a bloody tyrant. We haven't spoken in years, even though I'm his heir." dune's jaw hardened. "I won't weep when the old bastard breathes his last."
"You'll be a marquess then?"
"Yes, regrettably."
Nick waited for an explanation.
"I have no desire to assume the responsibilities that go with the title." Clune let out his breath in a sigh. "But I suppose we all must leave our youth behind at some point."
"True," Nicholas agreed, understanding that lament all too well.
For a while, each man was occupied by his own brooding thoughts. Eventually, however, Clune interrupted the silence again. "I take it your courtship of your wife is at an impasse?"
Nick's mouth twisted grimly. "Whatever gave you that notion?"
Clune smiled at the sardonic reply. "Something about the way you resemble a caged jungle cat, perhaps. Forgive me for prying, but it seems to me that drastic measures are called for."
"How drastic?"
"Have you considered abduction?"