The Earl Falls in Love - Chapter 11 (+18)

Spicy BL/MM/GAY Omegaverse Historical Romance

Ian

I was still floating in a haze of pleasure, my body humming like a plucked string, when Lord Edward’s expression changed. His dark eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that made my breath catch in my throat. The careful restraint he’d maintained since I’d met him seemed to crack before my eyes, like ice breaking on a spring pond.

Before I could process what was happening, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine.

Holy hell. Lord Edward Tyndall was kissing me.

His lips were unexpectedly soft against mine, the contact gentle—more question than demand. I made some embarrassing noise of surprise that I’d deny to my dying day, but Lord Edward apparently took it as encouragement. The tentative press became something more deliberate as he cupped my face between his hands, angling my head to better claim my mouth.

I’d never been kissed before—unless you counted Mary Sullivan pecking my cheek when we were eight, which I certainly didn’t. I had no idea what to do, how to respond, where to put my hands. But my body seemed to have opinions on the matter that bypassed my brain entirely.

When Lord Edward traced the seam of my lips with his tongue, I gasped in surprise, inadvertently granting him entry. The first slide of his tongue against mine sent a jolt through me that rivaled the pleasure he’d coaxed from my body moments before. This was nothing like I’d imagined kissing to be—not that I’d spent much time imagining it. It was wet and strange and utterly magnificent.

After a moment of frozen shock, I found myself responding, mimicking his movements with clumsy enthusiasm. I turned in his arms, seeking a better angle, my hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders. The new position pressed our chests together, and I could feel the thundering of his heart matching the frantic pace of my own.

His fingers tangled in my hair, the gentle tug sending sparks down my spine. His other arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer until I was practically in his lap again. Any thoughts of propriety or embarrassment had long since abandoned me, leaving only sensation in their wake.

The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent as my initial hesitation gave way to curiosity and desire. When Lord Edward nipped gently at my lower lip, I couldn’t suppress a startled moan. The small sting was immediately soothed by his tongue, and I found myself returning the gesture, drawing a groan from him that made something primal in me preen with satisfaction.

I had no reference for what made a good or bad kiss, but Lord Edward seemed to approve of my enthusiastic if unskilled participation. He explored my mouth with thorough attention, teaching without words what brought pleasure. I was an apt pupil, cataloging each reaction—the way his breath caught when I sucked lightly on his tongue, the slight tightening of his fingers in my hair when I pressed closer.

When we finally parted, both breathless and flushed, Lord Edward rested his forehead against mine. I kept my eyes closed for a moment, afraid of what I might reveal if I met his gaze too soon. When I finally looked up, I found him watching me with an expression that made my stomach perform acrobatics worthy of a circus performer.

“Was that... part of the lesson?” I asked, my voice embarrassingly husky.

His lips curved into a smile that did absolutely nothing to calm my racing heart. “That,” he replied, “was a momentary lapse in my self-control. For which I find myself entirely unable to apologize.”

I couldn’t help but smile back, oddly pleased by his admission. “I don’t believe I requested an apology, my lord.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through me where our bodies still touched. I remained in his arms, reluctant to break the connection despite the voice of reason shrieking distantly in the back of my mind that this was wildly inappropriate.

Lord Edward’s expression shifted, becoming more serious as he studied my face. “You’re still in discomfort,” he said, not a question but an observation.

I blinked, suddenly aware that beneath the pleasant haze of our kiss, my body still felt strange—overheated and oddly empty, as though the release he’d given me had addressed only part of a larger need.

“I feel... strange,” I admitted, shifting uncomfortably. “Like something’s unfinished.”

Lord Edward nodded, unsurprised. “What you’re experiencing is an omega heat cycle. The release I helped you achieve provided temporary relief, but it won’t fully address your symptoms.”

I stared at him, trying to process this unexpected information. “Heat cycle? Like animals get? Are you telling me I’m going into heat like a barn cat?”

His lips twitched at my comparison. “The biological imperative is similar, though considerably more complex in humans. And unlike cats, you have options for managing it.”

“Marvelous,” I muttered. “As if being illegitimate, undersized, and saddled with a face pretty enough to invite constant mockery wasn’t enough, now I get to experience the joys of going into heat like a farm animal. The universe truly outdoes itself when it comes to complicating my existence.”

“Your omega nature isn’t a curse, Ian,” Lord Edward said gently. “It’s simply another aspect of who you are.”

“Says the alpha who’s never had to worry about being considered less than a proper man,” I retorted, then winced at my own sharpness. “I apologize. That was unfair.”

“No, you’re right,” he acknowledged, surprising me. “I can’t fully understand what it means to be an omega in a world that values alpha traits. But I can help you manage the immediate symptoms, if you’ll allow it.”

I eyed him warily. “What sort of help?”

“The emptiness you’re feeling,” he explained, his tone carefully clinical, “is your body signaling that it requires internal stimulation. Without it, your discomfort will likely intensify over the coming days.”

“Days?” I echoed, horrified. “This torment lasts for days?”

“A first heat typically spans three to five days,” he confirmed, “though the intensity varies throughout.”

“Fantastic,” I groaned. “And here I thought this day couldn’t possibly become more mortifying. Clearly I lack imagination.”

Lord Edward’s expression softened with something that might have been sympathy. “There are ways to manage it, both immediately and in the future. For now, I could provide more complete relief with internal stimulation. And I’ll arrange to have suppressants sent to you as soon as possible.”

“Internal stimulation?” I repeated, my face heating as understanding dawned. “You mean you would... touch me... inside?”

He nodded, watching my reaction carefully. “It would provide significant relief from your current symptoms. Though only if you’re comfortable with the idea.”

I stared at the ceiling, weighing my limited options. The idea of Lord Edward touching me so intimately was mortifying, yet the alternative—days of increasing discomfort with no relief—seemed worse. And after what we’d already done, was there really any dignity left to preserve?

“These suppressants,” I said finally, “they would prevent this from happening again?”

“They would reduce the frequency and intensity of your heat cycles,” he explained. “Though they’re not without side effects, particularly with long-term use.”

I sighed, recognizing the familiar position of being forced to choose between equally unappealing options. “I suppose I should be grateful this didn’t happen while I was alone in the fields or during church services. Imagine poor Reverend Thomas’s face if I’d started emitting mating pheromones during his sermon on the virtues of chastity.”

Lord Edward’s lips twitched. “A memorable service, certainly.”

“So,” I said, squaring my shoulders like a man facing the gallows, “this internal stimulation. How exactly does it work?”

“It’s relatively straightforward,” he replied. “I would use my fingers to stimulate the sensitive glands inside you, which should provide significant relief.”

“And this is... normal?” I asked, still struggling to reconcile this new information with my understanding of my own body. “For omegas, I mean?”

“Completely normal,” he assured me. “In fact, it’s medically necessary during heat cycles. Without proper relief, omegas can experience severe discomfort and even health complications.”

“Why did no one tell me this before?” I demanded, sudden anger flaring. “Surely someone should have mentioned that my body would eventually stage such a spectacular rebellion?”

“Male omegas are extremely rare,” Lord Edward explained gently. “And Cheswick is... isolated. It’s likely no one in your family had the knowledge to prepare you properly.”

I absorbed this, my anger fading as quickly as it had appeared. It wasn’t Grandma Eliza’s fault, nor Dorothy’s. They couldn’t share information they didn’t possess.

“Fine,” I said finally. “Let’s proceed with this... treatment. For medical reasons, of course.”

“Of course,” he agreed, his expression serious though his eyes betrayed a hint of amusement. “Purely medicinal.”

“So... how do we proceed with this... medical intervention?” I asked, attempting to maintain some semblance of dignity despite the circumstances.

“First, you’ll need to lie back and try to relax,” he instructed, his tone shifting to something more authoritative that made my body respond in ways I didn’t entirely understand.

I complied, though “relax” seemed an impossible directive given the situation. Lord Edward settled beside me, his expression reassuring despite the intimacy of what we were about to do.

“I need to check something first,” he said, his voice dropping to that lower register that sent shivers through me. His hand moved between my legs, bypassing my renewed arousal to explore lower.

I tensed immediately, mortification washing over me as I realized what he would discover. For days, I’d been experiencing an embarrassing dampness that I couldn’t explain—as though I was sweating in places that had no business producing sweat. I’d resorted to extra trips to the washbasin and even considered asking Dorothy if this was some strange masculine affliction that no one had warned me about.

“Ah,” Lord Edward said, his expression shifting to understanding. “Your body is already producing natural lubrication. That’s good—it will make this more comfortable for you.”

“Natural lubrication?” I repeated, baffled. “You mean that... dampness isn’t sweat? I’ve been washing three times a day thinking I had some bizarre condition!”

Lord Edward’s lips twitched. “It’s perfectly normal for omegas during heat. Your body is preparing itself for... well, for precisely what we’re about to do, though typically with a different purpose.”

“Splendid,” I sighed. “Yet another delightful surprise from my apparently mysterious anatomy. Any other secrets I should know about? Will I sprout wings next Tuesday? Perhaps develop the ability to communicate with squirrels?”

Lord Edward chuckled, the sound warming something in my chest despite my irritation. “No wings or animal communication, I’m afraid. Though there are other aspects of omega biology we should discuss... but perhaps another time, when you’re not quite so overwhelmed.”

“How considerate of you to ration my mortification,” I remarked dryly. “I do appreciate being humiliated in manageable installments rather than all at once.”

“Your sense of humor remains intact, I see,” he said, his lips curving into that half-smile that did strange things to my insides. “That’s a good sign.”

Before I could formulate a suitably cutting response, he placed his hand on my knee. “I need you to bend your legs and spread them apart,” he instructed gently. “It will make this easier.”

I complied, though I couldn’t prevent the fierce blush that spread across my face at being so exposed. Lord Edward’s expression remained carefully neutral, though his scent—that rich, woodsy aroma that had been tantalizing me for days—intensified slightly.

“I’m going to touch you now,” he warned, his voice dropping to a lower register that sent an unexpected shiver through me. “Tell me if anything feels uncomfortable.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice. His fingers moved between my legs again. The touch against that sensitive entrance made me gasp, my body jerking in surprise.

“Relax,” he murmured, his free hand coming to rest reassuringly on my hip. “This may feel strange at first, but I promise it will help.”

“Strange is certainly one word for it,” I managed, fighting the urge to clamp my legs shut as he continued his gentle exploration.

To my astonishment, the initial discomfort quickly gave way to something else—a building pleasure that intensified as his finger breached me carefully. The sensation was indeed strange, but not in the way I’d expected. Rather than pain, I felt a spreading warmth that seemed to address exactly the emptiness I’d been experiencing.

“Oh,” I breathed, my eyes widening in surprise.

“Good?” Lord Edward asked, though the knowing look in his eyes suggested he already had his answer.

“Different,” I replied, unwilling to give him the satisfaction. “Not entirely unpleasant.”

His lips twitched with suppressed amusement. “High praise indeed. Shall I continue?”

“I suppose,” I said, aiming for nonchalance despite the fact that my body was practically vibrating with newly awakened sensations. “Since we’ve come this far.”

Lord Edward’s finger pressed deeper, and suddenly brushed against something inside me that sent a jolt of pleasure so intense I actually cried out, my back arching off the bed.

“What was that?” I gasped when I could form words again.

“That,” Lord Edward explained, looking entirely too pleased with himself, “is your omega gland. The primary source of pleasure during heat.”

“You might have warned me,” I accused, still trembling from the unexpected sensation.

“And deprive myself of your expression? Never.” His smile was positively wicked as he deliberately pressed against that spot again, drawing another involuntary sound from my throat.

What followed was an education unlike any I’d received in Cheswick’s modest schoolhouse. Lord Edward added a second finger alongside the first, stretching me in ways that should have been uncomfortable but instead fed the growing pleasure building inside me. Each time he brushed against that sensitive gland, sparks of sensation shot through my body, gradually increasing in intensity until I was writhing beneath his touch.

My earlier release had been extraordinary, but this was something else entirely—deeper, more all-encompassing, as though pleasure was being poured directly into my bloodstream. My cock lay hard and leaking against my stomach, untouched yet somehow part of the building sensation.

“My lord,” I gasped, clutching at his arm as the pleasure intensified beyond what I thought possible. “I can’t—it’s too—”

“You can,” he assured me, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through my bones. “Let go, Ian. I’ve got you.”

His fingers curled inside me, pressing firmly against that spot while his other hand finally wrapped around my neglected arousal. The dual sensation was overwhelming—pleasure from two sources converging into something that threatened to shatter me completely.

When release finally claimed me, it was nothing like the first time. This wasn’t just an intense physical sensation; it was a cataclysm that swept through my entire being. I might have screamed—I honestly couldn’t tell through the roaring in my ears and the white-hot pleasure obliterating all thought. Wave after wave crashed through me, my body clenching rhythmically around Lord Edward’s fingers as though trying to draw them deeper still.

I returned to awareness gradually, my body still trembling with aftershocks, to find Lord Edward watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher. Pride, certainly, and something warmer that made my chest tighten strangely.

“Better?” he asked, carefully withdrawing his fingers.

“I—yes,” I admitted, too drained to maintain my usual defenses. “That was... I didn’t know anything could feel like that.”

He smiled, a genuine expression that transformed his aristocratic features into something almost boyish. “Good. You should feel significant relief for several hours now, though the symptoms will return.”

“Several hours?” I repeated, attempting to imagine enduring that level of intensity multiple times. “And this will continue for days?”

“The intensity will vary,” he assured me. “And I’ll arrange for suppressants to be delivered as soon as possible. They should arrive within a day or two.”

“And in the meantime?” I asked, already dreading the answer.

“In the meantime,” he said carefully, “you’ll need to manage as best you can. I’ve shown you the basics of self-pleasure, which should provide some relief. Though it won’t be as effective as... what we just did.”

I sighed, resigned to yet another complication in my already complicated life. “Wonderful. Just what I needed—another burden to shoulder alone.”

“You’re not alone, Ian,” Lord Edward said, his expression serious. “I may be leaving tomorrow, but I’m not abandoning you. The suppressants will help, and once you’re settled in St. Louis, you’ll have access to proper medical care.”

I nodded, too exhausted to argue further. As I lay there, my body still humming with residual pleasure, my gaze fell on Lord Edward’s obvious arousal, still confined within his trousers.

“What about you?” I asked, gesturing vaguely toward his lap. “Don’t you need... relief as well?”

Something flashed in his eyes—hunger quickly suppressed. “Don’t concern yourself with that,” he said, his voice rougher than usual. “Tonight was about helping you.”

“But—”

“Ian,” he interrupted firmly, “there are boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed, regardless of the circumstances. I’ve already overstepped by touching you as I have. Anything more would be a betrayal of my position as your guardian.”

I wanted to argue that I was of age, that I’d been managing a household and raising siblings for years, that I was hardly some delicate flower requiring protection. But exhaustion was rapidly overtaking me, my body heavy with satisfied lassitude.

“If you say so, my lord,” I murmured, my eyelids growing heavier by the second.

“You should rest,” he said, his voice gentler now. “Your body needs to recover.”

I nodded, already half-asleep. I felt him rise from the bed, heard the sounds of water being poured. I was nearly drifting off when I felt him gently turn me onto my side.

“Let me help you get dressed,” he said softly.

His sudden sharp intake of breath jolted me back to wakefulness. The gentle hands that had been about to help me into my nightshirt had frozen in place.

“Ian,” he said, his voice changed completely—tight and controlled in a way that suggested powerful emotion barely contained. “How did you get these scars?”

Scars. He’d seen my back.

Suddenly, I was no longer in the warm bedroom at Cheswick but back in the stables, five years old and terrified, the crack of the whip echoing in my ears as Lady Olivia’s voice cut through the air.

“Heathen,” she’d spat, each word punctuated by another lash. “Devil’s child. There’s no place for a devil’s child in this world.”

I’d learned not to scream after the first few strokes. Screaming only made her angrier, made the punishment last longer. So I’d bitten my lip until it bled, tears streaming silently down my face as I prayed for it to end.

“Ian!”

Lord Edward’s voice, sharp with concern, pulled me back to the present. I blinked, realizing I was trembling.

“Huh?” I managed, trying to orient myself.

Lord Edward was staring at me with an expression I’d never seen before—a combination of horror, rage, and something that might have been protective fury. “Your back,” he said, each word precise and controlled. “Who did this to you?”

I swallowed hard, the old fear rising like bile in my throat. “It’s nothing,” I lied, my voice not quite steady. “Just... an accident.”

It hadn’t been an accident. It had been deliberate cruelty born of jealousy and spite. Lady Olivia Harrison, my father’s legal wife, had hated me from the moment of my birth—the living proof of her husband’s love for another woman. She’d tolerated Dorothy, her own daughter, but me? I was the enemy to be eliminated, the stain to be erased.

Lord Edward’s eyes darkened dangerously. “Those are not accident marks, Ian. Those are whip scars. Systematic, deliberate whip scars.”

I glanced away, unable to meet his gaze. “I should change the water for your bath,” I said, desperate to change the subject.

He didn’t respond immediately, and when I risked looking back at him, his expression had softened though the anger still smoldered in his eyes. “There’s no need,” he said finally, apparently recognizing my unwillingness to discuss the matter. “It’s late. You should sleep.”

Relief washed through me. I couldn’t talk about Lady Olivia, not tonight, not when I was already so vulnerable. Those memories belonged to a different time, a different Ian—one I’d worked hard to bury beneath layers of sharp wit and careful indifference.

“Are you sure?” I asked, glancing at the cooling bathwater. “It must be cold by now.”

“A cold bath would do me good,” he said, his voice rough. “God knows I need it.”

I nodded, pulling my nightshirt over my head with clumsy movements. “If you’re fine with it and don’t need me to help wash you like before, I’ll take my leave.”

At his nod, I gathered my clothes and fled the room, closing the door behind me with shaking hands. In the twins’ room, I changed into my sleepwear and slipped into bed, my mind racing despite my exhaustion.

Reuben slept peacefully across the room, Waffle curled at his feet. Looking at him—so innocent, so untouched by the darkness that had shadowed my early years—I found myself back in time again, remembering.

I had been his age when I witnessed it happen. Lady Olivia standing at the top of the stairs, her beautiful face twisted with hatred. My mother ascending, her belly swollen with the child who would never be born. The deliberate push, the horrified scream, the sickening thud as she hit the bottom. Blood spreading across the floor like spilled wine.

She had survived, but the baby hadn’t. My little brother or sister, lost before I ever got to meet them.

I reached back, fingers finding the raised edge of a scar across my shoulder blade. How bad did they look, these marks that had made Lord Edward’s face darken with such rage? I’d never looked at my back in a mirror, had always avoided seeing the physical evidence of those terrible days.

Closing my eyes, I saw again Lord Edward’s expression—the controlled fury in his gaze. He’d been angry for my sake, I realized. Protective, even. The thought warmed something in my chest that had been cold for a very long time.

“Edward,” I whispered into the darkness, testing the name without its title. It felt strange on my tongue, intimate in a way that both thrilled and terrified me.

He was leaving tomorrow, and despite everything that had happened—the embarrassment, the revelations, the complicated feelings—I didn’t want him to go.

Sleep claimed me eventually, but my dreams were a confused tangle of past and present—Lady Olivia’s cruel smile morphing into Lord Edward’s gentle one, the sting of the whip transforming into the pleasure of his touch. I tossed and turned, caught between memories of pain and more recent sensations of pleasure.

When I finally woke, golden morning light was streaming through the window. For a moment, I lay disoriented, surprised to find myself in the twins’ room rather than my own bed where last night’s activities had taken place. The events of the previous night rushed back in a flood of memory that sent heat coursing to my face. Good Lord, had I really allowed Lord Edward to... and then I’d... and he’d seen me...

I groaned, burying my face in the pillow. How was I supposed to face him at breakfast after what we’d done? How could I possibly maintain any semblance of dignity?

The memory of those incredible sensations warred with my mortification. I couldn’t regret the relief he’d provided, yet the intimacy of it—the vulnerability I’d shown—made me want to crawl under the bed and hide until he’d departed for St. Louis.

St. Louis. He was leaving today.

The thought pierced through my embarrassment with surprising sharpness. Despite the awkwardness, despite the complications, despite him seeing those damned scars, I didn’t want him to go. The realization was as unwelcome as it was undeniable.

I forced myself to rise, to dress, to prepare for the day ahead. As I made my way downstairs, I could hear the bustle of activity—servants carrying luggage, preparations for departure already underway. My stomach knotted with a combination of dread and that strange emptiness Lord Edward had explained was part of my heat.

Grandma Eliza, Lord Edward, and Mr. Ford were already in the breakfast room when I entered. I forced myself to meet Lord Edward’s gaze, determined not to cower despite the heat rising to my cheeks.

“Good morning,” I managed, proud that my voice remained steady.

Lord Edward looked up, his smile transforming his face in a way that made my treacherous heart skip. “Morning, Ian,” he replied, his tone betraying nothing of what had transpired between us.

I attempted to return his smile but couldn’t quite manage it, my lips refusing to cooperate. I took the seat beside him, immediately enveloped in his scent—that rich, woodsy aroma that now carried associations my body responded to with embarrassing eagerness. I shifted uncomfortably, willing my body to behave itself.

Dorothy and the twins arrived shortly after, bringing welcome distraction with their chatter. Reuben peppered Mr. Ford with questions about St. Louis, while Dorothy smiled more brightly than usual, her happiness a sharp contrast to my own melancholy.

As the meal progressed and departure time approached, a sickening sensation settled in the pit of my stomach. The thought of watching Lord Edward ride away, of returning to an empty house that would soon no longer be our home, filled me with a desolation I couldn’t entirely explain. Yes, we would see him again in St. Louis, but somehow that knowledge provided little comfort in the face of immediate separation.

We gathered in the courtyard to see them off, the morning sun doing nothing to warm the chill that had settled in my chest. Lord Edward spoke quietly with Grandma Eliza while Mr. Ford conversed with Dorothy, their heads bent close together in a way that would have interested me under other circumstances.

Reuben tugged at my hand, his small fingers insistent. “Dorothy says we gonna see Mr. Edward again soon. We really moving to the big city, Ian?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

“Then why you look so sad?” he asked, scrunching his nose in confusion. “If we gonna see Mr. Edward again soon, you don’t gotta be sad he’s leaving!”

I widened my eyes, startled by his perception. Was my distress so obvious that even a six-year-old could read it? “You’re right,” I admitted, forcing a smile.

Rosie, never one to be left out, bounced on her toes beside me. “Ian! Ian! Aren’t you gonna give Mr. Edward a kiss goodbye?”

I stared at her, shocked by the innocent question.

“I always give Dorothy kisses when she takes us to school,” she explained, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Cause I miss her lots and lots. You gonna miss Mr. Edward lots and lots too, right?”

All day, every day, with an intensity that frightened me. I nodded mutely.

“Then you gotta kiss him!” she declared with the absolute certainty only a child can muster. “Kisses make the sad go away. That’s what Dorothy always says!”

I considered her suggestion, weighing propriety against the hollow ache in my chest. Lord Edward had just finished speaking with Grandma Eliza and turned in my direction, as though sensing my attention. Before I could second-guess myself, I crossed to him with determined steps.

“Ian,” he said, his expression softening as I approached.

I licked my lips nervously. “Have a safe trip, my lord.” Then, before courage deserted me entirely, I rose on tiptoe and pressed my lips to his in a brief, chaste kiss.

The contact lasted only seconds, but it sent warmth flooding through me, temporarily easing the ache of impending separation. When I pulled back, Lord Edward looked momentarily stunned, then his features relaxed into a warm smile. His hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing gently across my skin in a gesture that felt oddly possessive.

“See you soon, Ian,” he said softly.

I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. “See you soon.”

He released me reluctantly, then turned toward the waiting carriage where Mr. Ford already stood. I watched as they departed, the vehicle growing smaller in the distance until it disappeared entirely around a bend in the road.

Only then did I notice Grandma Eliza’s shocked expression and Dorothy’s delighted grin. Reuben and Rosie had already raced back inside, bored with the proceedings now that the excitement of departure was concluded.

Grandma Eliza cleared her throat. “Ian, my boy. Come with me for a small chat.”

I raised an eyebrow, puzzled by her serious tone. Dorothy offered no clues, merely enveloping me in a quick, fierce hug before releasing me with a beatific smile.

“Love is a beautiful thing, Ian,” she whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I had my suspicions, but to see such wonderfulness with my own eyes makes my heart sing.”

She disappeared into the house before I could question her meaning, leaving me to follow Grandma Eliza to the sitting room with growing apprehension. What exactly did they think they’d witnessed? And why did Dorothy look so pleased about it?

As I settled beside Grandma Eliza on the sofa, I braced myself for whatever conversation was coming. “What did you want to talk about, Grandma? If it’s about the kiss, I assure you it was entirely Rosie’s idea. I’m merely susceptible to the logic of six-year-olds before breakfast.”

Grandma Eliza raised an eyebrow, not buying my deflection for a second. “Is that so? Strange how eagerly you followed a child’s suggestion. I don’t recall you being quite so obedient when Rosie suggested you eat your vegetables last night.”

I felt heat creep up my neck. “Vegetables and kisses are hardly comparable, Grandma.”

“Indeed not,” she agreed with a mischievous twinkle. “One nourishes the body, the other apparently nourishes something else entirely.” She studied me for a moment, then asked directly, “Do you have feelings for Lord Eastwood, Ian?”

“Feelings?” I echoed, stalling. “I feel he’s considerably less insufferable than I expected an earl to be. I feel he’s surprisingly decent at fieldwork for someone who probably owns more silk handkerchiefs than we have plates. I feel—”

“Don’t be deliberately obtuse,” she interrupted, though her lips twitched. “You know perfectly well what I’m asking.”

I sighed, abandoning my attempts at evasion. “Yes,” I admitted. “I like him. He’s kind, intelligent, and has shown me more consideration than any aristocrat I’ve ever encountered. Which, granted, is a low bar to clear, but still.”

“He is also,” Grandma said shrewdly, “a remarkably handsome man.”

“I suppose,” I replied with feigned indifference. “If one appreciates that sort of thing. Tall, dark, brooding, shoulders broad enough to carry the weight of two earldoms... I can see how some might find that appealing.”

Grandma snorted. “Some, indeed. Including you, if that kiss was any indication.”

I opened my mouth to protest, then closed it again. There was no point denying what she’d witnessed with her own eyes. “It was just a goodbye,” I muttered.

“A goodbye that had Dorothy practically composing wedding vows on the spot,” Grandma retorted. She softened then, reaching over to take my hand. “You know I love you, child, and you have been through so much.”

The use of “child”—her signal for serious conversations—alerted me that this was more significant than I’d initially thought. “I know, Grandma. Though if you’re about to lecture me on propriety and the dangers of entanglements with aristocrats, I should warn you I’m developing a headache.”

“Nothing of the sort,” she said, surprising me. “I wanted to tell you that I support you in whatever relationship you choose to pursue with Lord Eastwood.”

I blinked at her, genuinely confused. “Support me? In my relationship with—” Understanding dawned suddenly. “Oh! No, Grandma, we’re not—that is to say, he hasn’t—we don’t have that sort of...” I trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence without lying outright.

Grandma patted my hand. “Whatever you say, dear. Though I haven’t seen a man look at anyone the way he looks at you since your father first laid eyes on your mother.”

The comparison left me speechless. I opened my mouth to correct her misunderstanding, then closed it again as several realizations struck simultaneously. First, explaining would require revealing what had actually happened last night, which was absolutely out of the question. Second, their assumption, while incorrect, wasn’t entirely unfounded given what they’d witnessed this morning. And third, most surprisingly, the idea didn’t repulse me as it should have.

“I’m not sure what’s happening between us,” I admitted finally. “But thank you for... not being horrified, I suppose.”

“Horrified?” She scoffed. “My boy, I’ve lived long enough to know happiness comes in many forms. And after everything you’ve endured, you deserve whatever joy you can find.” She squeezed my hand. “Besides, I’ve always thought convention was vastly overrated.”

“Is that why you once threatened to duel the vicar with a butter knife when he criticized your hat?” I asked, grateful for the chance to lighten the mood.

“That had nothing to do with convention and everything to do with taste,” she corrected primly. “That man wouldn’t know a fashionable bonnet if it flew down and nested in his beard.”

I laughed, the tension finally breaking. “Well, thank you for your... support. Though I think you’re seeing something that isn’t there.”

“Perhaps,” she allowed, though her expression suggested she wasn’t convinced. “Time will tell.”

I rose, suddenly desperate for solitude to process everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. “Since I’ve been so busy lately, I think I’ll take today off and do some reading,” I announced. “Those mystery books the Tyndalls sent are waiting for me.”

“As are the fantasy novels waiting for me,” Grandma Eliza replied with surprising enthusiasm. “Dragons, wizards, and magical kingdoms—who knew such nonsense could be so entertaining? Far more exciting than those dreary historical tomes your father preferred.”

I shook my head, amused by her literary conversion. “I’ll leave you to your dragons, then.”

“And I’ll leave you to your thoughts,” she replied knowingly. “Though do try not to wear a hole in the carpet with your pacing. We may be leaving Cheswick, but I’d prefer not to leave it in tatters.”

I left her to her novels and retreated to my bedroom, collapsing onto the bed that still carried Lord Edward’s scent. I buried my face in the pillow, inhaling deeply and allowing myself to remember the extraordinary sensations he’d introduced me to.

My body still felt strange—the heat and emptiness had returned, though not yet with the intensity of last night. I would need to address it soon, using the techniques Lord Edward had shown me. The thought brought equal measures of embarrassment and anticipation.

But beyond the physical complications of my newly discovered omega nature, I found myself grappling with emotions I hadn’t anticipated—a longing for Lord Edward’s presence that went beyond the practical benefits of his assistance. I missed him already, with an ache that seemed disproportionate to our brief acquaintance.

What did it mean? And more importantly, what would happen when we met again in St. Louis?

I sighed, turning onto my back to stare at the ceiling. These questions would have to wait for answers. For now, I had a heat cycle to manage, a household to prepare for relocation, and a heart to untangle from the confusing knot it had tied itself into.

“Soon,” I whispered to the empty room, holding onto the promise Lord Edward had made. “I’ll see you soon.”