Morgan lifted his glass in a toast and took another long swallow. “Want to talk about it?”

Rowles scoffed. “What’s there to talk about? My mother attacked me. And before that, she thought I was Robert and told me—rather, she was talking to Rob—” He frowned. That was bloody confusing.

Morgan saved him. “I think I follow. Continue.”

Rowles shrugged. “She said that she’d always worried about me being”—he whispered—“like her. And then she said that if I went all cocked up, Robert was to put me in Bedlam.” Rowles closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. It was a bloody disaster, and no amount of alcohol would change that. More was the pity.

“I see,” Morgan answered.

“So now I have to move my mother into a separate apartment with a trained staff to care for her so she doesn’t hurt anyone.” Rowles looked to him.

Morgan leaned forward. “What do you mean, hurt anyone?”

Rowles gave a dark chuckle. “Oh, I left out that detail. All this happened moments before she attacked me and three footmen. She’s quite strong for her frailty.” He rubbed the side of his leg at the memory.

“Heavens.” Morgan breathed out a lengthy sigh. “Old chap, that’s a bloody awful day.”

Rowles lifted his glass to salute Morgan’s words, only to find it empty. “Damn and blast.”

Morgan observed him, as if evaluating a decision.

“What?” Rowles asked. “I’m not one of your prisoners to cross-examine. Don’t look at me that way. It makes me feel more cocked up than I probably am.” He sighed.

“You’re not.”

Rowles froze. “Say what?”

“You’re not.” Morgan shrugged. “And I’m an excellent judge of character.” He ticked off the words on his fingers as he added, “I know infirm, I know misguided, and I know foolish. You, my friend, are none of the above. So stop your needless fretting. You’ll turn into an old man.”

“I already feel like an old man.” Rowles sighed.

“Feeling like and reality are two separate things,” Morgan corrected him gently. “So, decide which one will rule you.”

Rowles nodded slowly. “Thank you, old chap.”

Morgan raised his glass, then realized it was empty and waved for another round.

Rowles frowned and turned to Morgan. “So why are you here?”

Morgan hitched a shoulder and nodded his thanks as another round was placed before them and the empty glasses collected.

Morgan swirled the liquid in his glass. “Between my sister holding court to several young bucks this afternoon and then business at the office, I’m finished with today.”

Rowles nodded sagely. “That deserves a drink.”

“Indeed.”