pants to match

He rubs his fingertips over his temples. “I should have never indulged Greta.”

“Like you ever have any say in what Greta does, Billy,” Gabriel says absently. He tilts his head back on the armchair and puffs at his pipe, teeth biting into the carved ivory.

Which is entirely true. They’re of like ages, and their families have been dear friends since years before either of them had been born, but if anyone’s the bully in their relationship, it’s Greta. William’s sure that’s how he’d gotten saddled with Butcher and Jon in the first place. If it’d been up to William, they both would’ve been raised in Derbyshire by Uncle Orlan, and William would’ve spent his bachelor years gallivanting about London, racking up massive gambling debts. Instead, he’s got Gabriel and a houseful of big-eyed orphans – but he thinks, in the end, he’s gotten a rather good deal. He’d never ever tell Gabriel or Greta that, though.

“You fret like an old woman,” Gabriel says. “Butcher’s known Siska for years, it’ll all work out fine.”

William is disinclined to believe him, but there’s nothing to be done about it now.