"Who?" Harry sat down across from him and poured a cup of tea. He sweetened it and added milk.
"Father's whore." Wills tossed back what was left in his glass and got up to refill it.
Harry made a face. "But she's ancient." He sipped his tea. "What's dad think?"
Wills dropped ice into his drink. "Oh, he's delighted," he sneered. "He's having a child with the woman he loves."
Harry frowned at him. "You're drinking," he accused.
"Father's best Scotch," Wills confirmed.
"Can I have some?"
Harry scowled. "Why not?"
"You're too young."
Harry put down his teacup and flopped back against the couch. "I'm only two years younger than you."
Wills ignored his posturing. "You're the one who got in trouble with God, father, and the press for drinking." He turned on his brother. "Christ, Harry. Couldn't you just be discreet?"
Harry sulked. "I'm not the one who was taught all the tricks."
"You're not the one who'll be king," Wills said absently. "You do realize we'll have to be happy about this. Family solidarity and all that rot."
Harry frowned. "They'll never let him be king now."
Wills snorted. "He was never going to be king."
Harry looked shocked. "What do you mean? He's the Prince of Wales."
"The only thing he ever had going for him was Mummy, and he knew it." Wills turned to look out over the grounds. "He gave it up when he left her."
"And you look like her," Harry said slowly.
"Right." Wills drained his glass and set it down on the windowsill.
"Well, at least I'm straight," Harry offered. "I won't be as much of an embarrassment as Uncle Edward.
Wills laughed shortly. "He got married."
"And look at what a disaster that was." Harry paused to pick up his teacup. "She's shagging the gardener, you know."
Wills snorted. "And I'm sure he's relieved that he doesn't have to father his own heir." He picked up his glass and tipped back the last watery drops of his Scotch. "I wonder what grandmum thinks about that."
"I wonder what she'll think about Dad."
"Oh, she'll be happy about it," Wills predicted. "She actually likes the bitch."