by Megan Derr
Otis nodded, nearly bursting out of his seat with excitement. "I promise, Haven."
"Then I will meet you there…what time?"
"Ten o'clock, or thereabouts. It's poor form to be punctual."
What, Haven wondered, was the point in setting a specific time if no one intended for that time to be heeded? He would never understand all these little rules. It gave him a headache.
"Very well, then," he said, wondering what in the hell he thought he was doing. "Ten o'clock, or thereabouts. Try to stay out of trouble until I arrive." Leaving coin for the coffee, he took his leave.
Despite himself, he found he was smiling as he left.
Otis was more like a ward than a friend, but it was nice that someone was not completely repulsed by him.
Thinking that, however, reminded him of the spectacle he had made of himself last night, before Knox. It had seemed so very much, for a single wonderful moment, that he might have found someone he could someday call friend.
Anything more, he did not even dare think upon. He could not even make friends, what chance had he of finding a lover here?
But a friend, a real friend, would have been nice. Thinking back to his appearance, and his study, and his no doubt deplorable manners…next to Knox, who had looked perfect and stunning, and was so calm and polite and good humored about everything…
Well, naturally Haven would botch it right from the start.
Heaving another sigh, he made his way through the crowded streets back to his home, to see if he actually owned the sorts of clothes one needed for a soiree.
*~*~*
Alexis sipped his champagne without enthusiasm, though it was of the finest quality, barely resisting an urge to check his pocket watch. If not for Henry, and his own friends, he would be as far away from the soiree as he could get.
He glanced around the ballroom, shooting Henry a warning glare for good measure. Bolton had arrived just a few minutes ago, but so far the two had shown the good sense to stay on opposite ends of the room.
"—Lex?"
"Hmm?" Alexis asked, looking back at his friends as he realized they'd been speaking to him.
Bart rolled his eyes, while Maitland only smirked in amusement.
"I said," Bart said impatiently, "are you game for spending a week at my house? Should be a lark, we can sail and gallivant about the countryside, and just generally be disgraceful."
Alexis laughed. "Aren't we too old to be disgraceful?"
"Gods knows you and Lord Cat here prefer to act like it," Bart retorted. "Though, you've mellowed a bit since taking up with royalty," he continued thoughtfully, smirking at Maitland.
Maitland rolled his eyes, and did not dignify the comment with a reply.
Alexis chuckled. "So what week is this, Bart?"
"Two weeks hence," Bart said. "I thought—I say, who is that? What an intriguing fellow. Is that the Dragon my sister and mother have been having hushed conversations about when their husbands aren't around?"
Alexis turned, surprised. Surely not—but it was Linwood, plain as day.
Though plain was hardly a word he would ever apply to the man.
"I wonder what drew him out," Maitland said thoughtfully. "He's never attended any social affairs before, to the best of my knowledge."
"No idea," Alexis replied absently.
He truly did cut quite the figure all dressed up, at least as striking as he had been the previous night. He wore full formal black, head to toe, with only his stockings and the gold-threaded lace at his throat to provide relief. The bare touches of gold drew out the warm whiskey of his eyes.
"Like what you see?"
Alexis startled, then turned to glare at Bart, who had murmured the words in his ear. "Indeed. As you say, he is quite beautiful. I was only noting how different he appears now, as opposed to when I visited him last night."
His friends looked at him in amusement.
"What?" Alexis demanded irritably.
"Lex, the last time you stared that hard at someone, it was Charles."
Charles.
Alexis stiffened, grip on his champagne flute tightening. "Then it's a good thing I'm not that stupid anymore," he said tersely.
"Bah," Bart said. "You could stand to be that stupid more often. It was almost fifteen years ago, after all."
"For once I'm in agreement with Bart," Maitland said. "No doubt I will regret the words, but for the moment they are true."
"Just what are you trying to say?" Alexis asked. "I did not come here tonight to be lectured."
Bart jabbed him in the chest with one finger. "I'm saying he is awfully pretty, which is precisely to your taste."
"Remind me again why I associate with you?" Alexis asked, pushing him back just far enough there would be no more jabbing.
Maitland snorted. "Bart never gave us a choice in the matter, as I recall. He is rather stunning," he continued thoughtfully. "He's looked over here three times now." He smiled, something catlike in the expression. "At you, to be precise."
Alexis shrugged, refusing to say anything, because no matter what he said it would be used against him. Lord save him from bored friends.
"Hmm, looks like he came for young Bolton," Maitland said. "Braced, perhaps, for another duel?"
"If they try it, I'll kill them," Alexis said, and finished off the last of his champagne.
"Are you going to introduce us?" Maitland asked.
"What?"
Bart rolled his eyes. "Introduce us to your dragon."
Alexis glared. "He is not mine, you damnable—"
"Off we go, then," Bart interrupted, and grabbed his arm to half guide, half drag Alexis across the ballroom to where Linwood had tucked himself into a corner, sipping a glass of dark red wine.
Silently plotting revenge, he summoned a friendly smile and sketched a polite bow. "Good evening, Lord Linwood."
"Good evening, my lord," Linwood replied, looking almost stunned for a moment before he recovered himself. "I hope you are not here to inform me I missed the issuing of a challenge by mere minutes."
Alexis laughed. "Good lord, no. My friends desired to make your acquaintance. May I present to you Lord Bartholomew Ford and Lord Kyler Maitland, the Marquis of Lovett. Gentlemen, Lord Haven Linwood, Earl of Chelsea."
"You look nothing like a dragon," Bart said cheerfully, shaking Linwood's hand. "Then again, they call Mait here 'Lord Cat' and he's more like a fox, really."
"Strange," Maitland retorted, "everyone says you look like a brat, and that suits perfectly."
"Do shut up, both of you," Alexis said, quelling them with a look. He turned to Linwood, smiling. "You may tell them to shove off. I often—"
He was drowned out by the sounds of shouting from the balcony.
And groaned as the voices registered. He'd his eyes off them for five minutes!
Linwood was already halfway across the ballroom. Alexis chased after him.
They reached the balcony just in time to avoid their charges coming to blows, each grabbing his respective youth and hauling them apart.
He clapped his hand over Henry's mouth in the middle of an issued challenge.
Linwood merely looked at Otis, who wilted into a pile of defeat and guilt.
"Impressive," Alexis murmured to himself. He released Henry's mouth and gave him a stout clap upside the head.
"Don't you even think about it," he snapped, when Henry started to bellow in protest. "You do not want to dare start a fight with me."
Henry closed his mouth with an audible click.
"That's more like it," Alexis said, shaking him for good measure. "Now, what is going on here?"
"Perhaps we should discuss this elsewhere," Linwood said.
"Perhaps we should let them kill each other," Alexis muttered, but led the way back inside and through the ballroom, catching Bart's eye briefly and receiving a nod. "This way," he said, leaving the ballroom and making his way through the Ford house, stopping at what he knew to be Bart's office.
In reply, he received only two sullen glares.
Rolling his eyes, he tried again. "If you are both in such a hurry to get shot or stabbed, I will be more than happy to have at you."
Silence.
"If I do not get a response," he said very slowly and precisely, "I am going to lose my temper."
"He started it!" Henry blurted out.
"I did not, you—"
"Oh, for the love of—"
A sharp, rough, strange sounding noise cut through all the shouting, and after a moment Alexis realized it was actually a word, or words, and that Linwood had spoken them. He looked over at Linwood, who coughed in embarrassment.
"Now, then," Linwood said, when they were all watching him. "Shouting will solve nothing. Talking might, if we can keep our tones level. One person at a time, I think. Master Young, who truly started the argument?"
Henry scowled at Linwood, but after a moment dropped his gaze and replied, "I didn't mean to start it—he just took it wrong is all."
"You said maybe I wasn't so stupid after all," Otis snapped. "How was I supposed to take it?"
"Not the way you did," Henry snarled.
Alexis lifted his eyes to the heavens.
Nearby, he heard Linwood just barely smother a laugh.
"That's enough," he said. "Why not both apologize and let the matter end?"
"I'm not apologizing to that—"
"He's not getting an apology from—"
"Right, then," Alexis interrupted. "I'll just let your fathers deal with you."
Both boys looked abruptly stricken—but neither could quite bring himself to speak.
Linwood laughed. "Well, I suppose I could still act as Otis' second, and extend on his behalf his most abject apologies for any unintended slight."
Alexis nodded. "Then I will act as Henry's second, and likewise convey his most humble apologies for all misunderstandings."
Henry opened his mouth, looked at Alexis, and shut it again.
"Then I believe this matter is concluded satisfactorily?" Linwood asked.
"Quite so," Alexis said. He glared at Otis and Henry. "If anything else happens tonight, or any other night, I will lose my temper. Have I made myself clear?"
"Yes, my lord," the young men chorused.
"Good. Now apologize for putting us to so much trouble."
They grimaced, but obediently muttered 'Sorry, my lord' to the rug.
Alexis lifted one brow. "Your apologies leave much to be desired," he said critically. "However, I know when to retreat. Off with you, then—and behave!"
"Yes, my lord," the two said over their shoulders as they bolted.
Alexis pinched the bridge of his nose.
"They got off lightly," Linwood said, mouth curved in amusement. "I once had it out with a friend of mine. We were, oh, all of sixteen, I believe. Right in the middle of an important dinner party. His mother got a hold of us and beat us right there in the middle of the room 'til I swore I would be black and blue for a month. We were in tears by the time she stopped, and all the more for it being in front of our friends. We never again misbehaved in such fashion—at least at his mother's dinner parties."
Alexis snorted. "I rather like the idea. Unfortunately, if I attempted it, I believe many a person would take a switch to me, which I do not fancy. We shall simply have to keep them apart, or find some means of forcing them to get along." He motioned to the door, and together they left the study, headed back toward the ballroom.
Linwood sighed. "I guess this means I shall be spending more time out and about, then."
"Certainly I will be glad when I can leave Henry to his own devices," Alexis said. "If you and Otis are not already promised elsewhere, what do you say to joining Henry and I for a ride in the park? Perhaps we can force them to act civilized."
Again Linwood looked surprised, but then he smiled faintly. "Certainly, if you are sure you would not mind the company. The sooner they get along, the better for all parties."
"Precisely," Alexis said. He slowed his steps as they reached the ballroom, seeing Linwood hesitate. "Are you returning to the ballroom?"
"No," Linwood said. He nodded to the entryway. "I see Otis lurking, and think I should probably tend him before it becomes the source of another squabble. I bid you goodnight, my lord. It was an honor to meet your friends. I hope your gods let you sleep tonight."
Alexis smiled, but before he could reply, Linwood had turned and walked away, too far off now to hear whatever Alexis might say.
Frowning, he shrugged it off and went to go give his friends a tongue lashing.
*~*~*
It was stupid to be excited about a simple ride through the park. Knox had invited him solely for the purpose of reconciling their young charges.
Anyone who saw them—and a morning ride through the park meant everyone—would know it was only because of Henry and Otis.
He still did not know why Knox had introduced Haven to his friends. At least they were not cutting him—but they had been vastly amused by something while Knox had looked more than a little annoyed. Had Knox not wanted to speak with him?
What had he been thinking, agreeing to this?
"It's a beautiful morning, is it not?" Otis asked, smiling brightly.
"Quite," Haven agreed, hoping his anxiety was not showing. He also wished he had not stayed up until four in the morning working on his translations.
"There they are," Otis said, sounding far less enthusiastic. "Must we spend the morning with them?"
"Yes," Haven replied. "Consider it punishment, if you must."
"Yes, Haven."
Haven chuckled at the put upon expression on Otis' face, then turned to Knox as they drew close—and saw from the way his mouth was quirked in amusement, and the look in his eyes when their gazes met, that Henry was being just as petulant. He smiled, and realized he was far too pleased by the moment of silent communication.
"How does the morning find you, my lord?"
"Well, if still half asleep. I will never understand this desire people have to see the morning. And how are you fairing? I believe you favor mornings."
Knox laughed. "A bit of a night owl, my lord?"
"More than a bit, I fear," Haven replied, wondering if he was making a complete fool of himself. "I believe I climbed into bed as my servants were waking. They think me stranger than even all of society."
"Oh, mine are equally confounded by me," Knox replied. "I think they are offended that I wake up before them."
Haven laughed.
"Our charges are being remarkably silent," Knox said in dry amusement, looking between the two young men riding just in front of them. He prodded Henry with his riding crop. "You could imitate your seconds, my fine young lads, and hold a civil conversation."
When they only remained stonily silent, Haven shook his head in amusement.
"Well, if they want to spoil a perfectly good morning with sullenness, let them," Knox said with a shrug. "I believe the other night you said you were up doing translations? I dare guess that is what kept you up this past night as well? What manner of translations?"
"Various things," Haven replied, trying not to let his discomfort show. "I generally do historical volumes, novels, and poetry, though I do other types of prose on occasion."
"Remarkable," Knox replied. "Is this purely a leisure activity, or a professional following?"
Haven managed not to wince, but barely. It was unseemly for a gentleman to take up any manner of real occupation. He was not certain how terrible it was to be a professional translator, but he supposed it did not matter now. He'd already foolishly admitted it, so there was nothing for it but to confess the whole and hope the topic of conversation soon shifted. "A professional calling, though not one I initially sought on purpose. However, I d
o love to read, and it seems a pity to be fluent in five languages and not make real use of the knowledge."
"Five languages!" Knox exclaimed. "Extraordinary."
Henry stirred. "Do you really know five languages, my lord?"
"Yes," Haven replied. "The two most common in this part of the world, and the three most common where I used to live. I grew up in a city that is famous for trade, and it is impossible to get by without knowing at least two, and three is better. Most children grow up learning two or three without even meaning to. Given the, uh, unique nature of my heritage…I was obliged to learn an additional two."
"Incredible," Otis said. "What have you translated, Haven? Anything we might know?"
Haven frowned in thought. "I do not know. The historical works are well known in their respective circles, but obscure otherwise. I translate for two novelists and one poet regularly, and a handful of others less often. The last novel I translated was The Hummingbird and the Sparrow. Does that sound familiar?"
"I know that book!" Henry burst out excitedly. "Bloody everyone knows that book! Gods, my mother and her friends never shut up about it, or the others he writes. I say, do you know when his next one is coming out? If I could tell her that—"
"She'd leave off punishing you for making a scene at the Ford house last night?" Knox cut in, smirking.
Henry glared at him. "I was going to say, she'd steam for days that I knew before she did, and it would be right entertaining."
Knox grinned, then turned to Haven. "I confess to being a fan of the books myself. I often read in the mornings with a cup of tea, since it's the one thing I can fix by myself without burning the house down or having the cook come after me with violence in her eyes. Do you know the author, by chance, or is it through a liaison that you have come to translate his works?"
Haven smiled. "As it happens…do you remember the story I told you last night? About the dinner party?"
"Yes," Knox said, with a smile and a pointed look at Henry and Otis. "I have not entirely abandoned the idea you mentioned."
"The friend from that story is, in fact, the author. He was always a writer, even as a child. When I was in school, studying languages, I often used his drafts to practice my translations. We are still quite close."