"So, Marcus," Charles leans back in his chair at the club. It's a comfortable chair, wing-backed leather and perfectly situated right in front of the fire. Charles swirls his brandy in its glass, admiring the way the amber liquid gleams in the firelight.
"Charles," Marcus says with a wry smile. Charles is outwardly calm, but inside he's frustrated. He's never really been able to find an "in" with Marcus. The man doesn't seem to have ever really warmed to him.
"Lovely wedding," Charles says. "Er, due to your family's generosity, I mean. Daisy and I are so grateful."
"Yes, well," Marcus says, sipping his own brandy. "Daisy is the baby of the family, after all. You know how it is."
"Indeed," Charles says. "Your–date was looking very well, I must say. How did you meet Nicole?" He doesn't m
