Chapter 6

Flaring with sudden heat, Elwin bolted upright, his fists clenching at his sides. “Mr. Leon, you are…! Truly, you are…!”

The indignation died in his throat as a cold realization dawned. If Leon had indeed overheard his earlier conversation, then his proud, defensive claims regarding his family’s prosperity were laid bare as nothing but a hollow sham. His flimsy lie had disintegrated within a single night.

Worse still, Leon’s blunt assessment, however cutting, was undeniably accurate. In their current financial straits, employing a tutor for his sister was a groundless extravagance. While noble houses maintained tutors to preserve prestige and prepare young ladies for the social season, for the impoverished count’s household, it was a luxury they simply could not afford. Elwin cared little for keeping up appearances, but Leon could not possibly know the private burdens he carried.

As the morning sun caught the gemstone pinned to Leon’s chest, casting a brilliant glint across the room, Elwin’s defiance withered. His shoulders slumped, and his tightly clenched fists slowly unfurled.

“…Eavesdropping on private conversations is hardly the mark of a gentleman,” Elwin murmured, his voice betraying his defeated spirit.

Though wronged, the knowledge of his own deceit crippled his ability to mount a proper defense. It was the tragic curse of the inherently decent: the crippling belief that one must be entirely flawless before earned the right to express righteous anger.

He braced himself for Leon’s inevitable mockery. Yet, to his surprise, Leon merely offered a quiet nod, bending down to retrieve an object from the floor. Amid his agitation, Elwin had not noticed the small volume slip from his breast pocket. Leon extended the book with quiet grace.

“I did not intend to eavesdrop, yet I entirely understand why you would view it as such, Sir Elwin. For my rudeness, you have my sincere apologies.”

Without his customary, mocking smirk, Leon’s features settled into an arresting, aristocratic composure. The clear morning light traced the fine lines of his brow and the intelligent curve of his lips, lending him an air of genuine nobility.

Caught off guard by the sincere apology, Elwin’s cheeks burned. “No… I, too, lost my temper unseemly,” he stammered, hastily retreating to his seat. When he dared to look up, he found Leon studying him with warm, liquid amber eyes.

“Am I forgiven?” Leon asked.

“Yes, of course,” Elwin replied primly, trying to salvage his dignity. “It is forgotten. And…”

He tempted the urge to declare his natural honesty, but held his tongue. To explain himself to a mere transient guest felt pitiful. Sensing his inner struggle, Leon spoke first.

“I do not take you for a liar, Sir Elwin,” Leon said softly, before his lips quirked into a familiar, devilish grin. “Though I do believe you are a beginner gentleman.”

Elwin froze. He stared blankly before his eyes widened in sheer mortification as he looked down at the volume in his hands: Social Etiquette for Beginner Gentlemen.

“Th-this is…!” Stammering wildly, Elwin shoved the book back into his inner pocket, his face flushing the deep, vivid red of a ripe raspberry.

Leon burst into a rich, hearty laugh that echoed through the room, though it lacked the sharp bite of his earlier derision.

“I had no idea such a manual existed,” Leon chuckled. “Had I known, perhaps I might have learned to carry myself with more decorum.”

“Do not mock me,” Elwin muttered, defensive thorns rising once more. “I have never had occasion to frequent high society. My father’s passing left me with little reason to engage in such frivolities.”

“Then what drives you to study it so diligently now?”

Elwin bit his lip, narrowly swallowing the truth: Because I must win the favor of Mr. Dwight and secure my place as his countess. Aloud, he forced his features into a mask of polite nobility. “We have esteemed guests. I merely wished to ensure our hospitality was flawless.”

“How exceptionally thoughtful. I assure you, I am already receiving lavish treatment.”

“Hardly. Our resources are limited. This book is merely my pony, so to speak.”

Leon blinked, his expression blank. Elwin watched him, a sudden suspicion taking root. Pony was common public-school slang for a cheat sheet. Surely a true alumnus of those prestigious academies would recognize the term instantly. Was Leon truly who he claimed to be?

Before Elwin could ponder the mystery further, the door opened to reveal the very man he had been waiting for.

“Mr. Dwight, you have joined us,” Elwin said, rising instantly to greet him.

His heart faltered, however, when he spotted Selena trailing immediately behind him. Toby’s warning from the night before flashed in his mind. Why were they arriving together? Proper decorum dictated a strict distance between unmarried men and women, which was why Selena’s chambers had been situated at the opposite end of the eastern wing, far from the western guest quarters.

Had they met in secret?

Before suspicion could fester, Dwight pointedly stepped away from Selena, striding briskly toward the breakfast table. Selena seemed entirely unbothered, trailing lazily behind while shielding her face with an elegant silk fan. It was entirely possible they had merely crossed paths in the corridor, but reading such social subtleties was far more vexing to Elwin than any passage of complex Latin prose.

As Selena drew near, her eyes widened. “Oh? Your eyes…”

Elwin blinked behind his spectacles. “Ah, yes. My sight is poor. I require glasses.”

“So these are the famous spectacles!” she gasped, examining him with the rapt curiosity of a village child.

Puzzled by her dramatic reaction, Elwin offered a courteous bow. “Miss Selena, I trust you slept well?”

“Wonderfully, Sir Elwin. Your maids were exceptionally attentive.”

Elwin found the statement curious, knowing his domestic staff to be notoriously sullen, but he let it pass.

“The maid mentioned a grand glass greenhouse in your gardens,” Selena continued brightly. “I would be delighted to see it.”

Eager to entertain, Elwin gladly escorted his guests into the gardens. Yet the moment he opened the greenhouse doors, Selena’s radiant smile vanished, replaced by profound disappointment.

“This… is the greenhouse?” she murmured, surveying the interior. “Where are the flowers?”

Before them lay neat, functional rows of ripening strawberries, heavy tomatoes, and thick vines of grapes clinging to the glass rafters. To Elwin, it was a display of lush abundance, but Selena clearly expected an ornamental paradise.

“There are eggplant blossoms there,” Elwin offered weakly, pointing toward the pale purple petals. “And the strawberries are in bloom.”

Selena frowned, clearly viewing the agricultural crops as little more than common weeds. “I had imagined… something more akin to a rose garden.” She turned to her companion. “Does the Baron’s estate not overflow with roses, Mr. Dwight?”

“Indeed. Ahem!” Dwight cleared his throat, his stoic composure slipping as he stepped back to avoid her gaze.

Squelch.

Dwight’s polished leather boot sank deep into the damp, muddy soil of the cultivation path. As Dwight stared down in horror at his ruined footwear, Elwin recognized his perfect opportunity to display the ultimate act of gentlemanly hospitality.

“Mr. Dwight, here—”

“Oh, dear me. Please, do use this, Lord Dwight.”

Leon moved with uncanny grace, presenting his own silk before Elwin could so much as ease his fingers into his breast pocket.