Gilbert sat at his study, with a drink in hand. Bottles littered the floor, this had been his way of coping these last couple of days. Nothing seemed to go his way ever since his son brought the Waynworth troubles into their household. Everything was going swimmingly before he learned of this accursed surname.
The table had papers all over it but he was seated on the couch. He was someone who loved the cold but he found himself liking fires recently, he found comfort in the warmth. He didn't know if he was going senile with age.
He didn't waste any time planting his seeds on the women he chose to be his. The estate was once again full of life, he didn't quite like that.
He never thought it was a problem, but he'd always been attracted to women he's never touched. Once he was done doing what he wanted, his interest waned.
