Chapter 38

Leon glanced around, his gaze landing on a solitary oil lamp flickering at the end of the gravel path. Beside it, the glass panes of a small conservatory caught the light, gleaming faintly in the darkness.

Without a word, their steps aligned, drawing them naturally toward the structures. The heavy glass door stood slightly ajar, releasing a breath of air that was noticeably warmer and brighter than the autumn night, carrying with it the delicate, sweet scent of blooming flora.

Elwin realized this must be the kind of “ornamental glasshouse” Selena had once described—a luxury of ordinary noble families. It contained no vegetables or practical herbs, only decorative climbing ivy scaling the glass walls and pale, cream-colored and crimson roses blooming in elegant cascades over iron arches.

For once, Elwin did not find the impractical luxury offensive. Perhaps it was the frantic tempo of his pulse, or perhaps it was what Toby always referred to as a “romantic” atmosphere. Regardless, the two of them quieted as they sat opposite each other at a wrought-iron table beneath a rose-laden arch.

“Is it truly wise for us to trespass here unsupervised?” Elwin asked softly.

“It was built for the amusement of guests, so I doubt anyone will object. I am quite practiced at slipping away from tiresome functions, though you look rather terrified, my lord.”

“I am not terrified,” Elwin retorted, his irritation flaring. “Let us play this game of yours. What are the rules?”

The words had tumbled out before he could stop them, and the mere mention of “the ladies’ game” caused another prickle of annoyance to warm his cheeks. Leon watched the faint blush creep up Elwin’s neck with quiet amusement before explaining.

“It is simple enough. Each player may ask three questions in turn. Every query must be answered with absolute candor. If a player refuses to speak, they must consume a measure of strong spirits. Or so I was told.”

“We have no liquor here.”

“A minor obstacle. Shall we swear upon our honor as gentlemen to speak nothing but the truth instead?”

Our honor? Elwin hesitated, wondering if it was foolish to stake something so sacred on a whim, but his confidence quickly returned. He had lived an upright life; he had no scandalous secrets to hide.

“Very well. Will you ask the first question?”

“If I may?”

“Go ahead. Ask whatever you wish.”

“Whose voice did I hear coming from your bedchamber that evening, my lord?”

The moment Elwin gave his assent, Leon struck, his tone suggesting he had been harboring the question for a very long time, unable to contain his curiosity.

“What? A voice?”

“A man’s voice, which I overheard when I approached your door.”

Elwin froze as comprehension dawned. He meant the night they had witnessed Dwight and Selena’s clandestine meeting in the garden.

“It did not sound like any of your household staff,” Leon pressed, his gaze sharpening. “And since Sir Dwight was occupied in the courtyard, I could not help but wonder who in the world it could have been…”

Elwin stared at him, utterly trapped by his own terms. He had promised to answer anything, yet the very first question was humiliating.

The voice Leon had heard belonged to Echo, his gray parrot. It was highly unusual for a noble heir of Elwin’s standing to keep a mimicking bird in his private quarters; such a hobby was precisely the sort of eccentricity that would set the local gossips whispering. They whispered enough already.

As the silence stretched, Leon’s playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a sudden, intense seriousness. He leaned closer, his eyes narrowing.

“Did you harbor an intruder in your rooms, Elwin?”

“No! Mr. Leon, it is not what you think…” Elwin let out a heavy, defeated sigh. “I will tell you, but only if you promise not to laugh.”

“I have no desire to mock you, Sir Elwin. But whom could you possibly have admitted to your chambers to warrant such a reaction?”

“There was no one else,” Elwin muttered, his voice dropping to a mortified whisper. “It was… a parrot.”

“A… parrot?”

At Leon’s blank, uncomprehending stare, Elwin’s face burned crimson.

“Yes. I keep a gray parrot in my room. It belonged to my late father.”

For a long beat, the greenhouse was silent. Then, Leon’s face split into a wide, brilliant grin.

“Ah. I see. Ahaha! Ahahahaha!”

“Mr. Leon! You swore you would not laugh!”

“I am not laughing at you, I swear,” Leon gasped, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye, his expression one of profound relief. “A parrot. What a relief. Heavens, I was utterly beside myself.”

Why was he relieved? Was he experiencing the same rush of ease Elwin had felt upon discovering Leon had not gone to the garden with the lady? A flurry of delicate, fluttering questions rose in Elwin’s chest. He quickly cleared his throat, pulling his formal mask back into place to steer the conversation away from his embarrassment.

“That is quite enough. It is my turn now, is it not?”

“Indeed,” Leon replied, his easy smile returning. “Ask whatever your heart desires.”

Leon looked entirely unbothered, but Elwin was determined to shatter that composure. Leaning across the table, Elwin locked eyes with him, his gaze piercing through the dim, amber light.

“Why did you pretend to be Mr. Dwight’s former classmate?”

Leon’s smile faltered, a brief flicker of surprise crossing his features, though he did not look entirely caught off guard. Elwin had already dropped hints that he doubted Leon’s story, after all. To Elwin, whether Leon had attended a public school was trivial; the true mystery lay in his motives.

A man who possessed not a single drop of subservience in his blood had willingly demeaned himself to play the sycophant to a man like Dwight. There had to be a reason.

“Well,” Leon began, his voice dropping to a smooth, quiet cadence. “On my return journey from Port Savar, my vessel docked late at night in a harbor town bordering Graymont and Ravenwell. I secured a room at a local inn, and the following morning, I happened to observe a young gentleman and lady dining in the common room.”

Elwin remained silent, listening intently.

“I took a table nearby and overheard their conversation. The young man was the second son of Baron Graymont, and he was traveling to the Ravenwell estate. As it happened, I was bound for the exact same destination. I realized that by fabricating a prior acquaintance, I could join their party and secure entry to the estate far more naturally.”

Elwin recalled the day Leon had first arrived at the manor, claiming he had run into Dwight along the road. He had followed it with a series of frivolous jests about seeking out the legendary beauties of Ravenwell, which Elwin had dismissed as mere flirtation. Now, he realized the core of the story had been entirely true.

But it was still not enough.

Why go to such lengths? Why fabricate an entire identity just to shadow Dwight? Had Leon’s goal from the very beginning been to infiltrate the House of Ravenwell? If so…

“Then, Mr. Leon, from the very start, you—”

“Ah, no, Sir Elwin,” Leon interrupted, a smug grin spreading across his face as he wagged a finger. “We agreed to three questions each. It is my turn once more.”

Elwin’s jaw slackened. He glared at Leon with the exact same look of betrayal he had worn when Leon taught him to cheat at cards. How utterly devious.

Yet, this was a game of strategy, and he had to use his remaining turns with absolute precision. Leon was a master of evasion, spinning elaborate truths that revealed nothing of his core motives. How could Elwin corner him?

He could not afford to waste a single question on something Leon could easily sidestep. While Elwin sat in deep contemplation, Leon struck with his second question.

“Has anyone else proposed marriage to you, Sir Elwin? Aside from Mr. Frederick, that is.”

The blush Elwin had just managed to subdue flared back to life, hot and sudden.

“What? Mr. Leon, that is… that is highly personal.”

“You bound yourself by a gentleman’s honor, Sir Elwin. You must answer.”

Elwin shifted uncomfortably, looking away. “Yes. There have been others.”

Leon’s brow furrowed, a shadow of genuine displeasure darkening his features as he rested his chin in his hand. “I see. Just as I suspected. And those suitors were…”

“Ah, you cannot ask that!” Elwin interjected, a triumphant smile breaking across his face as he waved his hands in mock victory. “That would be a third question. It is my turn now.”

Leon shrugged, his irritation vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. “Very well, very well. I yield. Though there is no need to ask, really. It was undoubtedly those two alphas who sat flanking you at the tea party.”

Elwin gasped. “How could you possibly know that?”

The moment the words escaped his lips, Elwin wanted to bite his tongue. He had allowed himself to be baited into a reaction. He quickly waved his hands, shaking his head.

“Ignore that. That was not my official question. Do not answer it if you intend to count it against my tally.”

“You are growing quite adept at this, my lord. Clever, as always,” Leon chuckled, his eyes crinkling. “Let us consider that a free exchange. To answer your curiosity: those two gentlemen have been glaring daggers at you—not only during the tea party, but throughout the entire evening today.”

“Ah. So their resentment runs deep,” Elwin sighed.

Leon muttered something under his breath, his voice so quiet it was nearly lost to the rustle of the roses. “Whether it is resentment or desire is another matter entirely.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Leon replied smoothly, leaning forward. “Ask your next question, Sir Elwin.”

This was it. The moment that truly mattered. While Leon squandered his turns on trivial gossip, Elwin would strike at the heart of the mystery. He chose his words with meticulous care, ensuring there was no room for evasion.

“Mr. Leon… you knew my father in Savar, did you not? Tell me—how had he been living all those years?”