Chapter 43

Elwin’s cheeks, already flushed with embarrassment, burned with a sudden, intense heat. He knew that if he let himself be swayed by such casual silver-tongued flattery, he would look foolish. He forced his voice to remain steady, though a slight tremor betrayed him.

“You are far too adept at flattery, Mr. Leon. You do not even change your expression.”

“Do you think so?” Leon’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a subtle, simmering intensity. “To be perfectly honest, I am hardly in the mood to flatter anyone right now.”

A pang of anxiety gripped Elwin. Fearing he had somehow offended the man, he asked softly, “Why is your mood so poor? Did something happen?”

Perhaps Elwin’s earnest concern amused him, for the tension in Leon’s brow melted away, replaced by a wry, soft smile. It was not, however, his usual effortless grin.

“I can never truly win against you, Sir Elwin,” Leon sighed. “What else could possibly sour my mood? I have barely been able to steal a single word with you of late, my lord. I simply wished to sulk a little.”

So Leon had chafed under their forced separation as well. The revelation sent a thrill of pure joy through Elwin’s chest, though he fought desperately to conceal it.

Toby’s frantic predictions of an impending proposal from Dwight were not entirely divorced from reality. Dwight’s preening, courtship behavior had grown increasingly bold.

He had pointed to the sprawling fields of the estate and referred to them as “our lands” in Elwin’s presence, and during their trip to town, he had purchased a small wildflower from a street child and presented it to him with grand flair.

Even though Elwin despised Dwight’s company and dreaded their interactions, a part of him felt the heavy pressure of expectation. If he simply allowed himself to be swept along by the current, a happy, stable outcome for his family and servants would be secured. This realization cast a dark shadow of guilt over his joy; it felt wicked to rejoice in Leon’s jealousy.

Torn between the crushing weight of filial duty and the honest desires of his heart, Elwin took the coward’s way out and shifted the topic.

“…You have been quite occupied yourself, Mr. Leon. I heard you have been making frequent trips to town. Surely you had important business to attend to?”

He offered the excuse as if to suggest their lack of communication was due to Leon’s absences rather than Dwight’s suffocating presence. He expected a denial, but Leon merely shrugged, conceding the point.

“Indeed. I had matters to settle. And… someone I needed to meet.”

Elwin’s heart seized. The phrase someone I needed to meet echoed painfully in his mind, sharp and intrusive.

Someone he needed to meet? Does he have acquaintances in this region? Or is it someone new?

Instantly, the image of the elegant lady who had sat beside Leon at the tea party—the one who had so boldly pursued him and invited him for a garden stroll—flashed in his mind. A sudden, irrational flare of jealousy flared hot in his chest.

He wanted to demand a name, to force Leon to reveal who had commanded his attention. But the words withered on his tongue. He was entirely incapable of feigning indifference; his lips parted, but no sound emerged. His eyes flashed with a momentary sharpness before dropping in silent, miserable defeat, his expressive face betraying every single agonizing thought.

Leon watched him in silent fascination. Then, slowly, he rose from his chair. The deliberate, measured rhythm of his footsteps closed the distance between them, a soft sound that seemed to thrum against Elwin’s very nerves, until Leon sat down beside him.

The sofa was designed for two, but Elwin had sat squarely in the center. Because Leon was a man of formidable stature, their shoulders brushed instantly. It was a mere touch, yet it sent Elwin’s pulse racing frantically.

“I only met with a messenger dispatched by my family,” Leon explained, his voice low and intimate. “And I had documents to verify at the municipal office.”

“Oh. I see.”

The physical proximity had so thoroughly scattered Elwin’s defenses that his reply slipped out in a rush of undeniable relief.

Leon let out a soft, amused chuckle. “Were you truly that concerned about who I was meeting?”

“I—that is to say…” Elwin stammered, his face burning.

It was a blatant trap, but Elwin, utterly incapable of deceit, could only offer a flustered murmur. He pressed his lips together as the heat spread to his neck.

The emotion was terrifyingly intense, and he still did not know if he had any right to harbor such feelings. Yet, beneath the shame, a quiet, desperate part of him wanted Leon to see the state of his heart. Perhaps Leon already knew, but Elwin wished to be entirely honest.

“…Yes,” Elwin whispered. “I was.”

A profound silence settled over the study. Perhaps even Leon had not expected such an unvarnished confession. Or perhaps it was merely Elwin’s heightened senses, but the shoulder pressed against his own seemed to burn with a sudden, radiating heat. The very air between them grew taut, charged with an unspoken tension.

The atmosphere was so overwhelming that Elwin felt a sudden impulse to flee the room, yet he could not bear the thought of leaving. He wanted nothing more than to remain right there, anchored by the warmth of Leon’s shoulder.

“Y-You said you were sulking because you could not speak with me, Mr. Leon,” Elwin murmured, his voice barely a breath.

He wanted to justify his own embarrassing feelings—to remind Leon that they were both guilty of this quiet longing, that he was not alone in his transgression. But at his soft complaint, Leon shifted, drawing his shoulder away.

Fearing he had driven him off, Elwin turned his head in alarm. But Leon had not retreated. He had merely shifted his weight to face Elwin directly.

Now, they sat mere inches apart, gazes locked.

“That is true,” Leon murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “It seems you and I are plagued by the very same thoughts, Sir Elwin.”

Elwin remembered the words Leon had spoken to him in the greenhouse: Think of me more. Think of me deeply.

Those words had lingered like a sweet, inescapable curse. For days, he had been unable to purge Leon from his mind. It was the only way he had survived Dwight’s insufferable chatter; half the time, Dwight’s voice had been nothing more than background noise while Elwin’s thoughts wandered back to Leon.

He had resented Leon for it—wondering what kind of spell this infuriating man had cast over him to consume his every waking hour.

Yet now, hearing Leon confess to the same torment, the ache in Elwin’s chest transformed into a sweet, validating warmth. He wondered if Leon had truly thought of him with the same consuming intensity.

“Did we?” Elwin murmured, his joy warred with a sudden, acute shyness.

Though Leon surely read the vulnerability written across his face, he chose to play the part of the wounded lover, his eyes glittering with mischief.

“You have no idea how anxious I was,” Leon teased. “I was terrified you would dismiss the time we shared that evening as a mere indiscretion and bury it forever.”

“An indiscretion? No, that—”

“There are such people in this world, you know. Cruel souls who stir another’s heart, only to laugh it off as a mistake.”

The thought was deeply distasteful. To share such a kiss and then dismiss it so callously—surely only a heartless libertine could do such a thing. Then, looking at the handsome, roguish man sitting beside him, Elwin blinked in sudden suspicion.

“You are not suggesting that you are that sort of man, are you, Mr. Leon?”

“Me? Heavens, no.” Leon scoffed, looking genuinely offended. Then, a sudden memory seemed to strike him, and his voice softened into a low murmur. “Of course… what occurred in the stables was indeed an accident.”

At the mention of the stables—where Elwin’s foot had tangled in the reins, causing him to tumble directly onto Leon, their lips meeting in a breathless collision—Elwin’s face burned like fire. That first time had undoubtedly been an accident. But the tremors it had sent through his soul could never be undone.

“It would be rather difficult for the exact same thing to happen twice by accident,” Elwin murmured softly.

Leon’s eyes darkened with a quiet, possessive warmth. He knew Elwin agreed with him. The kiss in the greenhouse had been no accident. It had been born of a wild, irresistible impulse—a moment Elwin knew he would choose again and again, even if he were cast back in time.

“What do you think, Sir Elwin?” Leon’s voice was a low, velvet caress, tracing the syllables of Elwin’s name with agonizing slowness. It was a tone of supreme confidence, yet seasoned with a delicate, searching vulnerability. “If the same thing occurs a third time… surely one can no longer call it an accident.”