Chapter 30

By the time they returned to the manor house, Selena had already retreated to her private chambers. Lord Dwight, however, was clearly audible from the drawing room, locked in an intense discussion with his valet, Isaac. Seeking to dispatch his apology as quickly as possible, Elwin lingered near the entrance, waiting for the private audience to conclude.

Yet the debate dragged on.

Though the heavy oak door muffled the exact words, Dwight’s voice was laced with sharp irritation, while Isaac’s tone was hushed and persuasive. Fragments of their heated exchange drifted through the woodwork.

—“No, young master… we have yet to locate it…”

—“Selena insists it is not in that room either…”

—“I am certain… it must be there…”

Locate what?

Before Elwin could puzzle out the mystery, a maid approached to inquire about the dinner service. The soft rustle of her uniform must have alerted the men inside, for the hushed argument ceased instantly.

A moment later, the door swung open. Isaac stepped into the corridor, his face immediately smoothing into an obsequious, wide grin as he bowed low.

“Ah, my lord! Had I known you were waiting on our leisure, I would have concluded our trivial business much sooner. It was of no consequence, I assure you.”

The oily, over-prepared explanation only deepened Elwin’s suspicions, but he merely offered a polite nod before crossing the threshold. Inside, Dwight sat with a tight, rigid posture, his handsome features still marred by lingering anger.

The venomous glance he directed at Elwin made it clear that he considered himself the sole injured party in the day’s affair. The sheer gall of the man was staggering, yet Elwin lowered his head in a graceful, submissive bow. To secure his family’s survival, his personal pride was a cheap price to pay.

“Lord Dwight, I must offer my profound apologies for the disastrous outing this afternoon. If my poor hosting caused you any discomfort…”

“Well, I admit I was somewhat out of temper myself,” Dwight drawled.

The concession was quick, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed a deep, simmering resentment that had not faded in the slightest.

“No, the fault lies entirely with me for failing to anticipate your needs. Please, let me know immediately if anything else is not to your liking.”

“I shall do so.”

His voice remained cold and clinical. Elwin supposed he should be grateful that the man even bothered to maintain a veneer of aristocratic civility. Retreating to his bedchamber to prepare for dinner, Elwin was immediately cornered by Toby.

“Young master! Has the guest’s temper cooled at all?” Toby asked, his eyes wide with anxiety.

The young servant explained that he had witnessed the violent display with the whip in the stables earlier. Elwin wished desperately to ease his loyal servant’s mind, but he had never possessed a talent for deceit.

“I fear not. He remains deeply displeased.”

“He must be absolutely livid! I happened to pass the parlor earlier and heard him ranting to Mr. Isaac. Lord Dwight was packing his trunks and demanding to return to the capital tonight!”

“Is that true?” Elwin’s stomach sank.

This was a catastrophe. At this rate, the entire courtship was a laughable failure; he had not even managed to establish the barest foundation of mutual respect. If Dwight abandoned the estate now, Elwin would lose everything before he could even mount a defense.

“Fortunately, Mr. Isaac talked him down, reminding him that the time was not yet ripe. Honestly, I thought that valet was a useless dandy, but I suppose he has his moments of utility.”

“Yes… thank goodness for that…”

Dwight’s scheduled stay was already half over. If his mood soured further, he would vanish long before the remaining fortnight elapsed.

Elwin had to act, and quickly. But how? Throughout his life, every crisis had been solved through cold intellect and tireless industry. Yet in the delicate, irrational realm of human affection, those sharp tools were entirely useless.

He was trapped in a cruel irony: his own treacherous heart beat frantically for the one man he must avoid, while he felt nothing but revulsion for the one man he was required to charm. If he could not even govern his own pulse, how could he hope to manipulate the affections of another?

“I suppose unless there exists some magical elixir to force a man to love…”

If such a draft existed, Elwin would gladly drink it himself alongside his guest. Toby stared at him in utter bewilderment at the uncharacteristic, desperate jest, before turning toward the door with a sudden, determined gleam in his eyes.

“Very well. I did not wish to resort to such extreme measures, but…”

“Toby, no! You must not go to Lord Dwight and speak on my behalf!” Elwin lunged forward, grabbing the servant’s sleeve in sheer panic. He knew Toby’s tendency to meddle with disastrous enthusiasm.

“Do you take me for an idiot, young master? I am merely going to the kitchens to adjust tonight’s menu. We need something substantial to soothe the nerves.”

“Oh. Then… yes, please ask them to prepare something warm and restorative. Everyone is exhausted.”

Blushing at his own paranoia, Elwin released his grip. Toby, however, slipped through the door with a knowing, triumphant grin.

“Leave everything to me, young master!”

At the time, Elwin could not have guessed that Toby’s definition of assistance was far more disastrous than any parlor gossip.

***

When dusk fell, a heavy, suffocating atmosphere settled over the dining hall. Dinner at the estate had been a tense affair since the guests arrived, but tonight promised to set a miserable new standard.

Selena, still pale from her near-miss in the stables, had managed to attend, though she sat in frozen, fragile silence. Dwight was equally hostile, his earlier performance of civility completely abandoned as he radiated cold displeasure.

The household staff was visibly terrified. Whispers of the young lord’s violent outburst in the stables had spread like wildfire through the servants’ quarters.

The young maid tasking with presenting the first course kept her eyes glued to her silver tray, her hands trembling so violently that she caught her wrist on the edge of Dwight’s crystal water goblet, sending the contents splashing across the table.

“Ah! I-I beg your pardon, Lord Dwight!” she gasped, dropping to her knees.

“Tsk. Heavens…” Dwight sneered, recoiling.

Though his fine silk waistcoat had escaped the deluge, the linen mat before him was thoroughly saturated. His irritated groan sent the poor girl’s face pale with terror.

“It is quite all right. Please, proceed with the next service,” Elwin intervened gently, seeking to shield the servant from Dwight’s wrath.

As the trembling girl hurried away, Elwin caught the immediate, darkening scowl on Dwight’s face. He realized his mistake instantly—he should have attended to his guest’s comfort before showing mercy to a servant. Knowing Dwight’s petty nature, the man likely expected Elwin to dismiss the girl on the spot.

Before the silence could curdle further, Leon stepped in with effortless grace.

“Lord Dwight, your setting is ruined. Allow me to exchange seats with you.”

The gesture worked; Dwight’s expression softened slightly as he rose and took Leon’s dry seat. Elwin looked up, intending to offer Leon a silent nod of gratitude, but the words died in his throat.

He found himself staring directly at Leon’s mouth. The phantom warmth of those lips flashed through his mind, hot and vivid.

“P-Please, let us begin,” Elwin stammered, his fork clattering against his plate as he tried to mask his agitation.

He kept his eyes resolutely lowered, hoping Leon would have the decency to ignore his obvious distress. Instead, he could feel the man’s intense, unblinking gaze drilling into him from across the table.

Terrified that a telltale blush would expose his thoughts, Elwin turned his head away, only to collide with Dwight’s cold, analytical stare. In a desperate bid to shatter the suffocating quiet, Elwin offered the first piece of flattery that came to mind.

“Lord Dwight, since our excursion was cut short today, I would be honored to personally escort you to the regional train station later this week, should your schedule permit.”

It was a transparent attempt to smooth things over. Dwight arched an eyebrow, offering a slow, patronizing nod.

“Indeed? That may be acceptable. Or, you could simply loan me a proper mount and save yourself the trouble.”

Whether the flattery had succeeded was debatable, but its effect on Leon was instantaneous. For the remainder of the agonizing meal, Leon glared at Elwin with an intensity that bordered on hostile. Clearly, the man was furious that Elwin had ignored his warnings to fawn over Dwight once more.

The weight of that amber gaze was physical. Elwin could barely taste the food, his nerves stretched to their absolute limit. The man staring through his defenses was the very same one who had held him against the stable floor only hours ago.

Why must he sit directly across from me?

Leon’s perfectly sculpted lips seemed to fill his entire field of vision. Elwin prayed for the dinner to end, but the kitchen seemed determined to stretch the torture, parading out an endless succession of port, cheeses, chocolates, and cakes. Out of sheer, desperate embarrassment, Elwin kept draining his wine goblet.

When he finally escaped to his bedchamber, slightly lightheaded from the alcohol, Elwin allowed himself a small sigh of relief. Despite the tension, the day had ended without a catastrophic scene.

He maintained that fragile peace even as he accepted his nightclothes from Toby—until he actually looked at the garment.

— “What is the meaning of this? Why are these pajamas entirely sheer?”

— “What else, young master? Garments designed for nighttime conquest are always crafted so.”

At Elwin’s horrified inquiry, Toby’s response was loaded with meaning.

In the background, Echo the parrot screeched, “Nighttime adornment! Nighttime adornment!” as Toby delivered an even more scandalous revelation: he had prepared a dinner menu brimming with “vigor.”