Chapter 87

Leon clicked his tongue, stripped away the dampened linens, and draped a fresh, intact blanket over Elwin’s frame. He reached for the handbell resting on the bedside table.

DING-A-LING, DING-A-LING

The chime had barely ceased when the guest room door creaked open. “Did you call, Your Highness?”

Caught in the hazy threshold between wakefulness and slumber, Elwin’s mind scrambled. This is completely inappropriate. Was someone stationed just outside the door, waiting to catch every sound? And Leon—is he actually admitting an attendant into the room while things are in this state?

His confusion ebbed into the rising tide of exhaustion. Leon calmly transferred the bundle of soiled, damp linens and trousers to the servant, his voice dropping to a cool, authoritative command. “Silence. He has only just drifted off, so move with care. Send these to the laundry and return immediately with clean trousers and fresh sheets. From this moment forward, I want a plentiful supply of scented oils and towels kept stocked in this room.”

“Yes, understood, Your Highness.”

Even as his senses dulled, Elwin felt the crushing weight of the implications. By this request, Leon was effectively broadcasting that they had been engaged in illicit, obscene acts within a royal guest suite—and that he fully intended to continue doing so at every opportunity. Worse yet, the attendant had likely heard the entirety of Elwin’s whimpering.

According to Toby, the staff in noble households were notorious for gossiping. If palace servants were cut from the same cloth, that attendant would be carrying the musk-laden linens out into the hall to broadcast the third prince’s scandals to the entire staff.

Goodness gracious, Elwin thought, drifting further into the dark. I shall surely be ousted by morning.

Yet, even with that desperate realization, the heavy mantle of sleep proved impossible to resist. He felt Leon’s shameless hand patting his shoulder as if they had done nothing more strenuous than drink tea, and with that final sensation, Elwin surrendered to oblivion.

***

“My beloved Elwin. Did you sleep well? The weather is delightful today.”

As Elwin flickered his eyes open the following morning, he found Leon observing him with a radiant smile and a sense of such composed serenity that Elwin was rendered utterly speechless. Uncertain of how to bridge the sudden distance between them, he exhaled a long, weary sigh. Leon merely chuckled, his fingers tracing the contour of Elwin’s cheek in a languid caress.

“Are you troubled by something so early in the day? Was the bedding not to your liking? I gave strict instructions to provide fresh, soft linens, though perhaps the attendant assigned to your quarters lacks the refinement required for such a task.”

At these words, heat rushed to Elwin’s face, staining his cheeks a brilliant, burning crimson. That was precisely the heart of the dilemma. Summoning every ounce of resolve he possessed, Elwin leveled a firm gaze at his companion.

“Leon. Regarding last night. You explicitly promised that you would do nothing more than hold me while we slept.”

Leon’s expression remained infuriatingly placid. “But it felt quite exquisite, did it not?”

Because it had indeed felt tremendously pleasurable, Elwin faltered, his indignation momentarily fracturing.

“You appeared to be struggling so deeply with sleep. I found myself unable to restrain the impulse. My apologies if I have overexerted you.”

There was no reasonable argument to counter such a claim. In truth, Elwin had been the first to grow feverish, squirming restlessly against him, even tugging at the hem of his own shirt as if silent invitation to be touched. From Leon’s vantage point, Elwin’s own behavior could easily be misconstrued as a desperate plea. Dismissing that realization, Elwin attempted to regain his composure.

“I was unaware that someone was stationed so close by. And to dispatch him on errands at such an hour… I must have appeared dreadfully improper.”

Leon merely shrugged, a look of genuine bewilderment crossing his features. “Ah, you refer to the attendant? You need not fret over such trifles. My attendants are loyal servants, serving merely as our hands and feet. You may operate under the assumption that they are observing you wherever you venture.”

“Then, if they witness or overhear something, they will not carry it to the rest of the household?”

Elwin’s hopeful inquiry was met with a look of idle curiosity from Leon. “On the contrary, they will carry it far and wide. Unless they have been specifically sworn to silence regarding a matter of gravity, they delight in recounting every detail. Gossiping about the private affairs of the royal family is one of their most cherished pastimes.”

Then, last night as well…! Elwin’s complexion drained of all color in an instant. Leon, ever the performer, offered a mask of faux concern. “Oh dear. You look quite pale. It must be a consequence of your hunger.”

As Leon rang the silver handbell, a sudden urge to flee seized Elwin. If the bell were answered, it would bring either yesterday’s attendant or a colleague who had been thoroughly briefed on the previous night’s events. Elwin floundered in his seat, but with no sanctuary available, he resigned himself to greeting the servant from the edge of the bed.

“Did you summon me, Your Highness?”

“Bring water for washing and breakfast. We have a guest in residence, so see that he is provided for with the utmost care.”

“I shall see to it immediately.”

The attendant returned with a basin of warm water, scented with floating rose petals, followed by a folding table laden with an elegant, sumptuous morning meal. Elwin had braced himself for cold, judging stares—for the implication of impropriety within the palace walls—but the staff treated him with an even greater level of deference than the day before. Had the scandalous events of the night failed to coalesce into rumor?

Contrary to Elwin’s naive assumptions, the palace was rife with whispers. Gossip regarding the Third Prince sharing his bed with his guest, the lingering scent of intimacy clinging to the linens, and even marveling at the Prince’s stamina had permeated every corner of the residence. The reason the attendants remained so composed in the presence of the pair was rooted in a startling conclusion: even if the Third Prince was a known libertine, he would never overstep the bounds of propriety so flagrantly unless the relationship were already sanctioned. They reasoned that the pair must be secretly betrothed, or perhaps even wedded, despite the lack of a public proclamation.

Thus, the attendants—who until yesterday had viewed Elwin as a mere guest of indeterminate status—had collectively reframed his existence as that of an unofficial, yet de facto, Prince Consort.

Completely oblivious to these shifting perceptions, and unaware that Leon had acted with a mix of genuine desire and calculated mischief, Elwin finished his breakfast with a sigh of relief, convinced that the rumors had failed to take root.

However, as they began to add milk to their tea, the heavy doors opened. The chief chamberlain entered, bowing low to whisper a secret report into Leon’s ear. Leon’s brow furrowed, his expression darkening for a heartbeat before the official retreated. Leon turned to Elwin with a soft, apologetic look.

“Elwin. Could you remain in the room alone for a short time after you finish? There is a matter requiring my brief attention. I suspect I shall return quickly.”

“Of course. Please, do what you must.”

Though his voice sounded steady, Elwin felt his muscles tighten with sudden, sharp tension. Leon leaned in, his fingers pinching the bridge of Elwin’s nose in an affectionate, lingering gesture.

“I will return momentarily, so treat this space as your own and find some rest. Would you prefer a book to pass the time? Or perhaps a newspaper?”

“Regarding the newspapers, I fear what sensational headlines might greet me. A book will suffice.”

“Then I shall instruct the chamberlain to provide selections suited to your tastes. Should you grow hungry or require assistance, simply ring the bell and wait calmly for my return. Understood?”

Leon spoke with the patronizing tenderness one might afford a small child, leaving Elwin to lament internally that he was, in fact, a grown man. Yet, the moment the heavy doors latched shut behind Leon, a suffocating wave of anxiety washed over him.

Did his family already know? They would be scandalized. Should he initiate contact, or await further developments? What would become of him now?

Elwin paced the room, his thoughts a chaotic swirl, until he realized the futility of his worry. The currents of this royal life were far too powerful and swift for him to navigate. He was entirely adrift.

Calm yourself, he urged. As Leon suggested, I shall read and wait.

Hardly had the resolve settled when a knock echoed against the door. Expecting the literary distractions promised by the chief chamberlain, Elwin opened the door with a welcoming smile. Instead, the man delivered a message that chilled his blood.

“Sir Elwin. Her Majesty the Queen requests your immediate audience.”

…What?

Gooseflesh erupted across Elwin’s skin. A summons from the Queen. Had he heard this days ago, he would have laughed at the absurdity of the jest, but in the current climate, it felt like a cold, inescapable reality. It is a royal command; I cannot refuse. Even without the mandate, it would be uncouth to ignore her, yet is there no escape?

Elwin’s gaze darted around the room, desperate for a reprieve, until he landed on a plausible excuse.

“I apologize, but I do not believe my attire is appropriate for an audience with Her Majesty.”

Having avoided high society for most of his life, Elwin lacked formal evening wear, and his travel wardrobe consisted only of sturdy riding breeches. It was a calculated defense, but the chief chamberlain replied with a disconcerting, practiced neutrality.

“That is of no concern, sir. We have already prepared appropriate court dress for you.”

As if on cue, attendants materialized behind him, bearing a charcoal-black tailcoat, matching trousers, a crisp white waistcoat, and a starched shirt. Trapped by his own logic, Elwin endured the indignity of being dressed by the servants. They combed his hair with meticulous care until he resembled a proper gentleman. With no further recourse, he followed the chamberlain toward the central building, his movements stiff and awkward, every step feeling as mechanical as the movements of a broken wooden doll.

“Your Majesty. I have brought Sir Elwin.”

“Let him enter.”

[END of VOLUME 3]