The Earl Falls in Love - Chapter 15
Spicy BL/MM/GAY Omegaverse Historical Romance
Ian
If someone had told me a year ago that I’d be riding through Queen Josephine Park in a barouche-landau with an earl at my side while the aristocracy of St. Louis stared at us like we were exotic zoo specimens, I’d have laughed myself sick. Yet here I was, trying not to fidget as what felt like the entire population of the capital’s upper crust pretended not to gawk at us.
It felt surreal to not only see Lord Edward, who had returned from his overseas trip earlier than expected, but to have him right here beside me. I thought I had forgotten what it felt like to have him near, but now that he was here, the warmth and comfort flooding through me made me realize just how significant he’d become in the short time we’d known each other. His scent—that intoxicating blend of sandalwood, leather, and something uniquely him—washed over me with each breeze, and I found myself inching closer, trying to capture more of it without being obvious.
“Cold?” Lord Edward asked, his dark eyes dancing with amusement at my pathetic attempts at subtlety. “Or are you simply trying to determine whether I bathed this morning?”
I jerked back slightly, mortified at being caught. “Neither, my lord. I’m conducting a scientific study on how aristocratic pheromones differ from those of us mere country mortals. So far my findings suggest that expensive cologne does wonders for masking natural alpha musk.”
“Is that so?” he replied, his lips twitching. “And what other observations has your scientific inquiry yielded?”
“That St. Louis nobility spend more on a single handkerchief than my entire village did on road repairs last year,” I quipped, gesturing subtly toward a passing carriage where a woman was dabbing her nose with what appeared to be embroidered silk. “Though I suppose smooth roads are less important when one never actually walks on them.”
The park was surprisingly crowded for a winter afternoon. Elegant couples strolled along the pathways, ladies with parasols despite the distinct lack of sunshine, gentlemen with walking sticks they clearly didn’t need. Other carriages rolled past, their occupants nodding or calling greetings with practiced casualness that couldn’t quite hide their curiosity about us.
I was painfully aware of how I must look in my Sunday best—a pair of dark trousers, white shirt, dark jacket, and thick overcoat that Dorothy had tailored for me before we moved. Compared to the finely cut attire surrounding us, I probably resembled a farmer dressed up for market day. At least my hair provided a convenient excuse for the attention; its perpetual state of dishevelment likely made me look like I’d been dragged backward through a hedge.
Not that I particularly cared at the moment. Lord Edward was beside me, and that simple fact had put me in an inexplicably buoyant mood.
“Are you enjoying yourself there, Ian darling?” Lady Samara asked from across the carriage, where she sat with Lady Scarlet. The latter was sketching furiously in her notebook, her pencil moving with the confidence of someone capturing a scene they found particularly inspiring.
“Yes, my la... I mean, Samara,” I replied, catching myself just in time. After nearly a week at Tyndall Manor, I was still struggling with the twins’ insistence on informal address.
Lord Edward chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I see Sam and Letty have already dragooned you into their first-name conspiracy. They’re remarkably efficient at dismantling social barriers when it suits them.”
“It’d be an abomination against the English language to force poor Ian to address us as ‘my lady’ every time we converse,” Lady Scarlet replied without looking up from her sketch. “Besides, he’s practically family now. One doesn’t stand on ceremony with family, unless one is desperately dull or harboring deep-seated resentment.”
Lord Edward turned to me, a peculiar expression crossing his features. “Then how about it, Ian?”
I raised my brows. “How about what, my lord?”
“How about you call me by my first name, too?” he suggested, his voice dropping slightly. “Unless, of course, you’re harboring that deep-seated resentment Letty mentioned.”
The idea sent a thrill through me that I quickly suppressed. “And risk the collective gasps of horror from the entire St. Louis aristocracy? I’d sooner attempt to teach Waffle table manners, my lord. Besides, someone in this family should maintain at least a pretense of proper etiquette—the twins have certainly abandoned it entirely.”
“Such dedication to propriety,” he remarked, his eyes gleaming with something that might have been disappointment or amusement—possibly both. “Though I suspect it’s less about etiquette and more about maintaining a comfortable distance. Far easier to keep someone at arm’s length when addressing them by title rather than name.”
Lady Samara giggled from across the carriage. “I see Edward feels left out. Poor brother, relegated to ‘my lord’ while we enjoy the casual intimacy of first names. Perhaps we should start calling you ‘Your Most Magnificent Earlness’ to soothe your wounded pride.”
“That would be entirely appropriate,” Lord Edward replied dryly. “Though I prefer ‘His Supreme Magnificence’ when the occasion calls for formality.”
Suddenly, a chorus of female voices called out to us.
“Sam! Letty! What absolute divine fortune to encounter you today!”
I turned to see another elegant carriage approaching, this one carrying four young women dressed in the height of fashion. Their ensembles probably cost more than everything I owned combined, including Waffle.
As their carriage pulled alongside ours, Lady Samara’s face lit up with recognition. “Oh my, Tiff, Fifi, Georgy, Matty, you girls are on an outing, too?”
“Of course,” the blonde one replied with a theatrical flourish of her hand. “We couldn’t possibly miss the Saturday promenade. It’s practically a constitutional requirement for ladies of quality to be seen looking fabulous while pretending not to notice everyone else looking fabulous.”
I didn’t miss that all four women were studying me with the intensity of scientists examining a newly discovered species. I resisted the urge to check if I had something on my face or if perhaps my ears had suddenly grown to twice their normal size.
Lady Scarlet finally set aside her sketchbook. “Let me introduce,” she announced with a flourish. “Ladies, this is Ian Harrison.”
“Ian Harrison?” the dark-haired one echoed, her eyes widening to comical proportions. “As in the Ian Harrison? The mysterious country ward who’s caused such a stir in St. Louis society?”
“Your new brother?” the redhead asked, leaning forward so eagerly I feared she might topple from the carriage. “The one with the cheekbones that could cut glass and eyes like summer skies?”
“Yes, yes,” Lady Samara confirmed with obvious pride. “The Ian Harrison, our new little brother, Edward’s ward. Though I don’t recall mentioning his cheekbones in our correspondence, Matty.”
At the mention of Lord Edward, all four women straightened slightly and inclined their heads. “My lord,” they chorused with practiced precision that suggested they’d rehearsed this particular greeting.
“Ladies,” Lord Edward acknowledged with a curt nod that somehow managed to be both polite and dismissive. “I see the gossip mill continues to operate with its usual efficiency.”
“Ian,” Lady Scarlet continued, “let me introduce you to my friends and work colleagues. In order from left to right: Lady Georgina Wright, who writes the most scandalous love scenes; Lady Tiffany Bailey, our marketing genius; Lady Matilda Phillips, who creates our most beloved villains; and Lady Sophia Wang, whose artistic talents rival my own, though I’d never admit it to her face.”
“A pleasure to meet you all,” I offered with a slight bow of my head. “I’d say I’ve heard so much about you, but that would be a blatant lie. I have, however, apparently become infamous without any effort on my part, which is quite an achievement for someone who’s spent most of his life being mistaken for a particularly well-dressed scarecrow.”
Lady Matilda burst into delighted laughter. “Oh, he’s perfect! Sam, Letty, you’ve been holding out on us. You never mentioned he was witty as well as beautiful.”
“A dangerous combination,” Lady Sophia agreed, studying me with renewed interest. “Sam said you have twin siblings, a little brother and sister? And that they’re as adorable as puppies but twice as destructive?”
“Reuben and Rosie are to household tranquility what typhoons are to sailing ships,” I confirmed. “They appear innocent enough until you turn your back, at which point they transform into agents of chaos with a particular talent for finding expensive things to destroy.”
“Oh my, I can’t wait to meet them,” she gushed. “I adore children, especially the destructive ones. They make the best artistic subjects—all that raw emotion and complete lack of self-consciousness.”
“We’ll meet them at the Tyndalls’ Christmas dinner party,” Lady Tiffany interjected, as if this were common knowledge. “I’ve already designed my outfit specifically to withstand small, sticky hands and potential food projectiles.”
“Oh, yes, that’s right,” Lady Sophia agreed, nodding enthusiastically. “The annual event where half of St. Louis society pretends they haven’t been desperately angling for an invitation all year.”
After a few more minutes of pleasantries that felt more like a subtle interrogation, the ladies bid us farewell and continued on their way. I watched their carriage disappear down the path, wondering what they’d report back to their social circle about the mysterious new ward of the Tyndall family.
“I didn’t know there’s a Christmas dinner party,” I remarked, turning back to Lord Edward. “Should I start preparing my escape route now, or wait until the day before?”
“We do one every year,” he replied with a sigh that suggested the event was more duty than pleasure. “Mother invites half of St. Louis society, the twins use it as an opportunity to gather ‘research’ for their novels, and Alec typically hides in the library after the first hour, emerging only when the dessert is served or when someone starts a sufficiently entertaining scandal.”
“So I should position myself near the library,” I noted. “And perhaps keep something incendiary in my pocket for when the conversation becomes unbearable.”
“A sound strategy,” Lord Edward agreed with a hint of a smile. “Though I’d recommend against actual fire. The last time someone attempted to liven up Mother’s Christmas dinner with pyrotechnics, we had to rebuild the east wing.”
An hour later, our carriage rolled to a stop in front of Tyndall Manor. As we prepared to disembark, Lady Samara’s attention was caught by another vehicle parked ahead of ours.
“Do you have business with Kevin, Edward?” she asked, nodding toward the carriage. “On a Saturday, no less? How dreadfully inconvenient for your plans to do absolutely nothing of importance.”
As if summoned by her words, a man emerged from the manor and hurried down the steps. He nodded politely to the twins before turning to Lord Edward with obvious urgency.
“It’s urgent, my lord,” he announced without preamble. “And before you ask, yes, it genuinely requires your immediate attention, not like last month’s ‘crisis’ with the silk shipment that turned out to be merely delayed rather than lost at sea.”
Lord Edward’s expression darkened as he stepped down from our carriage. “What could be so urgent that it needs my attention on a Saturday afternoon? Has the Queen abdicated? Has war been declared? Has Alec finally set fire to the university?”
The man—presumably Kevin—leaned close and whispered something in Lord Edward’s ear. The effect was immediate; Lord Edward’s face transformed from mild irritation to something much darker. A knot formed in my stomach at the sight. Whatever news he’d received, it wasn’t good.
Lord Edward turned back to us, his expression now carefully controlled. “I’ll be dealing with business affairs. Inform Mother I will be late tonight.”
Lady Samara nodded her understanding while Lady Scarlet called out, “Take care, Edward. Try not to terrorize the entire business community in one evening—save some for tomorrow.”
He gave me one last glance—a look I couldn’t quite decipher—before hurrying to the waiting carriage. Within moments, he and Kevin were gone, leaving me with an inexplicable sense of loss.
“Lord Edward looks worried,” I said, unable to keep the concern from my voice.
“He does, doesn’t he?” Lady Scarlet agreed, watching the departing carriage. “I’m always worried too whenever he wears that expression. It’s his ‘someone is about to lose their fortune and possibly their dignity’ face.”
“It just means whatever it is requires the full force of his terrifying business acumen,” Lady Samara added reassuringly. “But knowing Edward, whatever it is will be sorted out before midnight. There’s no need to worry. And that was Kevin Brown, by the way, Ian. He’s a longtime family friend and Edward’s personal secretary, also known as ‘the only man brave enough to interrupt Edward’s brooding time.’”
We made our way into the manor and spent a pleasant hour taking afternoon tea with the rest of the family. As the gathering began to disperse, I headed upstairs, my thoughts still lingering on Lord Edward’s abrupt departure. I was approaching my bedroom when I spotted Alec emerging from his own room, looking as withdrawn as he had since Lord Marcus’s arrival.
“Alec,” I called, pausing in the hallway.
He turned, his expression brightening slightly when he saw me. “Ah, Ian. Sorry I abandoned you to the social vultures today. Was it terrible?”
“It’s fine,” I assured him. “Lord Edward took your spot and proved remarkably effective as a social shield. One glance from him and even the most determined gossip-seekers scattered like startled chickens.”
He chuckled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s surprising. Edward usually avoids the Queen Josephine parade like it’s carrying the plague. He typically considers such outings a frivolous waste of valuable time.”
“Well, he seemed almost... eager to join us,” I said, studying Alec’s reaction. “Though he did spend most of the time looking vaguely annoyed at everyone who approached our carriage.”
“How intriguing,” Alec replied, a knowing smile playing at his lips. “Either our stoic Edward has developed a sudden appreciation for fresh air and social niceties, or there was something—or rather, someone—in that carriage he found particularly compelling.”
I felt heat rush to my cheeks at the implication and quickly changed the subject. “By the way, how are you holding up? You’ve been about as cheerful as a funeral director since Lord Marcus arrived.”
“That obvious, is it?” Alec sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s just say Marcus and I have a... complicated history. Nothing worth discussing on a perfectly good Saturday.”
I nodded, not wanting to pry further. “Fair enough. We all have our ghosts.”
“By the way,” Alec continued, checking his pocket watch with exaggerated casualness, “how about I take you for that tour of St. Louis University tomorrow? We could explore the campus, terrorize some freshmen, perhaps vandalize a statue or two—you know, the usual scholarly pursuits.”
My eyes widened with excitement. “Really? That’d be fantastic! Though I should warn you, my statue vandalization skills are woefully underdeveloped. Farm life offers limited opportunities for defacing public monuments.”
“Eager as usual,” he said with a genuine smile this time. “Your enthusiasm for education is both refreshing and slightly concerning. I really must go, though.”
“Where are you going?” I asked, unable to curb my curiosity.
“Just an outing with some friends,” he replied with a vague wave of his hand. “Nothing particularly exciting—just the usual debauchery and questionable life choices that define the university experience.”
“Oh.” The simple statement reminded me of how little I knew about life in the capital. Alec had friends—real friends, not just siblings and servants who were obligated to tolerate him. The realization must have shown on my face, because Alec’s expression softened.
“Want to come along?” he offered. “Fair warning: my friends are marginally less civilized than a pack of wolves, but they’re surprisingly entertaining once you get past the terrible jokes and questionable hygiene.”
I nodded eagerly before propriety caught up with me. “If I’m not intruding? I’d hate to be the awkward country bumpkin who ruins your evening by not understanding any of the sophisticated city references.”
“No, of course not,” he assured me. “My friends will only be too pleased to meet you. They’ve been pestering me for details about Edward’s mysterious new ward ever since word got out. They think you’re either a long-lost prince in disguise or a rural genius with three PhDs and a secret laboratory.”
“Then, please let me tag along,” I replied, suddenly enthusiastic about the prospect of meeting people my own age who might become friends. “Though I should warn you, I’ve never been particularly good at maintaining my royal disguises, and my secret laboratory is currently being renovated after an unfortunate incident involving a goat and some highly unstable chemicals.”
“Come on,” he said with a laugh, leading me back toward the stairs. “We’ll have to inform Mother and Grandma Eliza first that you’re coming out with me. Mother will be delighted—she’s been worried you might become as much of a hermit as Edward.”
“Of course,” I agreed, already wondering what one wore to a social outing with university students. Somehow I doubted my Sunday best would make the right impression.
Three hours later, I found myself in a part of town I’d never seen before, surrounded by beautiful Eastern-style buildings adorned with red lanterns and ornate decorations. Alec had brought me to what he called “Little Shanghai,” a neighborhood established by Chinese immigrants that had grown into a vibrant cultural center.
We were seated in what I had initially assumed was a restaurant, though the extravagant decor and beautiful women in exotic, revealing outfits suggested something more... specialized. Alec’s friends—Rowan, Bryan, Colin, and Erick—were boisterous and welcoming, all of them students at St. Louis University. Unlike my former classmates at Greenhill, they treated me like an equal rather than a curiosity or a target.
“So, Ian,” Colin asked, refilling my teacup with a flourish that sent half the liquid splashing onto the table, “what do you think of St. Louis so far? Bit different from country life, I imagine? Less cow manure, more human nonsense?”
“It’s like I’ve stepped into one of those novels where someone travels to a foreign land and discovers everything they thought they knew was wrong,” I admitted. “The buildings are taller, the people are louder, and there’s food I’ve never even heard of before, much less pronounced correctly. Yesterday I attempted to order something called ‘foie gras’ and the waiter nearly collapsed from laughter at my pronunciation.”
“But you like it?” Bryan pressed, his expression suggesting my answer was of vital importance to the future of civilization.
“I do,” I nodded. “Though I miss the quiet sometimes. And being able to see the stars at night without having to squint through a layer of coal smoke and questionable moral decisions.”
“You won’t see many stars in St. Louis,” Rowan laughed, slapping my shoulder with unnecessary force. “Too much coal smoke and gas lighting. But we make up for it with entertainment you’d never find in the countryside. Tell me, do the village girls back home wear outfits like these?” He gestured toward a passing server whose dress left little to the imagination.
“Only on harvest festival days,” I replied with a straight face. “Though they typically pair them with sensible boots and pitchforks. Makes dancing somewhat hazardous, but excellent for keeping overeager suitors at bay.”
As if to illustrate his point about entertainment, Erick—the most outgoing of the group—was currently engaged in what appeared to be a flirtatious negotiation with one of the establishment’s employees. The woman, dressed in a silk gown that clung to her curves like a second skin, was perched on his lap, laughing at something he’d whispered in her ear.
“Just a little kiss, Desiree,” Erick pleaded with exaggerated desperation. “I’ve been thinking about it all week. My studies are suffering. My professors are concerned. My future hangs in the balance.”
The woman—Desiree—chuckled merrily, tapping his nose with a perfectly manicured finger. “My, you’re a naughty one, aren’t you? Using your education as emotional blackmail. What would your poor mother say?”
Without further preamble, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his in a kiss that seemed designed more for the audience than for Erick himself.
The casual intimacy of the exchange caught me off guard, reminding me of that night at Cheswick when Lord Edward had kissed me. The memory sent a wave of longing through me so intense it was almost physical. I found myself sighing, wishing I could experience that again—the warmth of his mouth, the gentle pressure of his lips, the way my entire body had seemed to melt at his touch.
“Ian?” Alec’s voice pulled me from my reverie. “You’ve gone somewhere far away. Hopefully somewhere more interesting than this establishment, though that wouldn’t be difficult.”
“Sorry,” I said, blinking myself back to the present. “Just contemplating the cultural differences between St. Louis and Greenhill. In the village, public displays of affection typically involve awkward hand-holding and perhaps a stolen kiss behind the church if one is feeling particularly rebellious.”
“You look a little down there, Ian,” Colin said, studying me with unexpected perceptiveness. “This place not to your liking? Too decadent for country sensibilities?”
I shook my head quickly. “No, that’s not it. I’ve seen more shocking things in a farmyard at breeding season, believe me.”
Bryan jabbed Colin with his elbow. “I told you this isn’t the right place for Ian. We should have dined in a family-friendly establishment. This place is too... mature for him.”
“But he’s nineteen,” Colin protested. “It’s not like he doesn’t know this is a courtesan house.”
I blinked in confusion. “A what now? Is that a fancy word for ‘restaurant with questionable dress code requirements’?”
There was a moment of silence as the four friends exchanged looks that ranged from amusement to concern. Finally, Erick grinned and turned to the woman still perched on his lap.
“I have an idea,” he announced. “Why don’t you give Ian a kiss to lift his spirits? I think he’s down because you’re ignoring him, Desiree.” He added hastily, “He’s a country bumpkin, so go easy on him. We don’t want to shock him into a permanent state of wide-eyed innocence.”
Desiree’s eyes lit with interest as she studied me, her gaze traveling from my face down to my lap and back up again with professional assessment. “With such a beautiful boy, I will never go easy on him. I wasn’t planning on ignoring him for long. I was merely biding my time, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.”
“Now, now, go easy on him I say,” Erick insisted, though his grin suggested he was enjoying this immensely. “We can’t have you ruining him for all other women. It wouldn’t be fair to the female population of Northland.”
Before I could process what was happening, Desiree had slipped from Erick’s lap and settled herself beside me on the settee, wedging between Alec and me. She draped an arm around my shoulders, bringing with her a cloud of perfume that was pleasant but overwhelming compared to the natural scents I was accustomed to.
“Um, hello,” I managed, suddenly feeling like a rabbit cornered by a particularly elegant fox. “Lovely establishment you have here. The, uh, decor is quite... red.”
Alec leaned across her, his expression concerned. “Just tell her to—”
Desiree silenced him with a finger to his lips, shaking her head playfully. Turning to me, she leaned close enough that I could feel her breath on my cheek.
“It’s a service, darling,” she explained, her voice a practiced purr. “My, but you’re even more beautiful up close. I swear you’d turn this house upside down if you were to work here. Those eyes alone would have patrons lining up around the block.”
“Do they hire boys?” I asked, genuinely curious despite my discomfort. “I mean, not that I’m looking for employment. I’m quite happy with my current career trajectory of ‘professional ward and occasional botanical enthusiast.’”
“Of course they do,” she replied with a knowing smile. “Especially enchanting ones like you. Men would fall to their knees at the sight of you—and I do mean that quite literally.”
The implication finally penetrated my consciousness, and I felt heat rush to my face as understanding dawned. “Oh! This is a... I mean, you’re a... Oh.”
Alec rolled his eyes. “That’s enough, Desiree. Stop corrupting Ian with your professional insights.”
Desiree turned to him with a pout. “Are you his guardian, sir? So protective of this lovely creature. Perhaps you are jealous? Should I give you a kiss first then?”
“No, thank you,” Alec replied firmly. “I’m quite content with my current kissing arrangements, limited though they may be.”
“I can’t believe I’m being rejected by such a gorgeous young man,” Desiree sighed dramatically before turning her attention back to me. “But you wouldn’t reject me, would you, country boy? Just one little kiss to remember the city by?”
Before I could formulate any kind of response, she pressed her lips to mine in a kiss that was technically proficient but emotionally vacant. The room erupted with hoots and encouragement from the others, but all I could think was how... underwhelming the experience was. Her lips were soft, yes, but there was no spark, no warmth spreading through me, none of the dizzying sensation I’d felt when Lord Edward kissed me. It was just flesh against flesh, a mechanical act without meaning.
When she pulled back, she studied my face with newfound curiosity. “Strange,” she mused. “Most enjoy my kiss since I’m one of the best in the house, but you, my dear boy, don’t seem to feel a thing.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Is it just me, or could it be that your interests lie elsewhere? Perhaps with someone a bit more... masculine?”
The question landed like a stone in still water, rippling through my consciousness with implications I wasn’t prepared to consider. Was it that obvious? Was there something about me that signaled to the world that I found Lord Edward far more compelling than any woman, no matter how beautiful or skilled?
“That’s enough,” Alec interjected firmly, coming to my rescue. “I’m taking Ian to a nice Chinese restaurant where the only thing being served is actual food. You guys enjoy yourselves, and when you’re done, come find us.” He stood and motioned for me to follow. “Come on, Ian. You like Chinese food, don’t you? Or would you prefer to continue your cultural education with Desiree?”
“Food sounds wonderful,” I replied, standing so quickly I nearly toppled the tea table. “I’ve always wanted to try authentic Chinese cuisine. Much more interesting than, um, other cultural experiences.”
Alec laughed as we made our way out of the establishment. “Your face is approximately the color of those lanterns, Ian. Don’t worry—your virtue remains intact, and Edward need never know you were nearly corrupted by the most expensive courtesan in Little Shanghai.”
“Is that what she is?” I asked as we stepped into the cool night air. “I thought courtesans were something from historical novels, not actual professions in modern Northland.”
“The oldest profession in the world never quite goes out of style,” Alec replied with a shrug. “Though in St. Louis, it’s considerably more elegant and discreet than in most places. The House of Celestial Pleasure caters to the wealthier gentlemen of the city—and occasionally curious university students with more money than sense.”
As he promised, we found a quiet restaurant where we enjoyed a meal of dumplings, noodles, and dishes I couldn’t pronounce but thoroughly enjoyed. The others never joined us, which didn’t surprise me—they seemed quite content with their evening’s entertainment.
After dinner, Alec showed me the central part of the city, which was festively decorated for the approaching holiday. The Octagon—St. Louis’s city center, named for its distinctive eight-sided layout—boasted a magnificent three-story Christmas tree near the Town Hall, its branches laden with ornaments that glittered in the gaslight. Despite the late hour, the streets were crowded with revelers enjoying the brass band and choir performing traditional carols.
“This is magnificent,” I breathed, taking in the spectacle. “We had a Christmas tree in Greenhill, of course, but it was barely taller than Grandma Eliza and decorated with whatever we could salvage from previous years. This is like something from a fairy tale.”
“St. Louis does Christmas with particular enthusiasm,” Alec agreed. “Wait until you see Tyndall Manor decorated. Mother spares no expense—every room gets its own tree, and the main hall centerpiece makes this one look like a sapling.”
It was nearly midnight by the time we returned to Tyndall Manor. As we entered the foyer, another carriage pulled up, and Lord Edward emerged, followed by Marcus and Henry. All three looked exhausted, but it was Lord Edward’s dark expression that caught my attention. Whatever business had called him away clearly hadn’t been resolved to his satisfaction.
“Ian. Alec,” he acknowledged, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary. “Out enjoying the city nightlife, I see.”
“Edward. Henry,” Alec replied, pointedly omitting Marcus’s name. “Just showing Ian the Octagon and some of Little Shanghai’s less scandalous offerings.”
“Alec, Ian,” Henry nodded before hurrying past us toward the stairs, no doubt eager to see his wife and children.
Marcus, never one to miss an opportunity for mischief, ruffled Alec’s hair as he passed. “I’m so special that my name is being left out on purpose?” he asked, his face inches from Alec’s. “I’m wounded, truly wounded. And after I defended your honor so gallantly in London society.”
Alec’s cheeks flamed as he batted Marcus’s hand away. “As if my honor needed defending by you of all people,” he muttered, the words barely audible.
The older man merely smirked before following Henry up the stairs, leaving an uncomfortable silence in his wake.
“You took Ian out and showed him about town?” Lord Edward asked once Marcus was out of earshot. When Alec nodded, Edward turned to me, his severe expression softening into something warmer. “Did you enjoy yourself, Ian?”
“It was illuminating in more ways than I anticipated,” I replied, wondering if my earlier encounter with Desiree was somehow written across my face. “We visited the Octagon—there’s a magnificent Christmas tree and a brass band and choir that would put Greenhill’s tone-deaf ensemble to absolute shame.”
“Sounds lively,” Lord Edward said as we began climbing the stairs together. I noticed that Alec had fallen silent behind us, his earlier good humor fading now that Marcus had made an appearance.
“It was,” I agreed, casting a concerned glance at Alec. “Though I’ve discovered that city entertainment comes with certain... educational elements I wasn’t expecting.”
“Oh?” Lord Edward’s eyebrow arched with interest. “And what unexpected education did St. Louis provide tonight?”
“That’s a conversation for another time,” I replied diplomatically. “Preferably after I’ve processed the cultural differences between Greenhill and the capital. Suffice it to say, our village festivals suddenly seem quaintly innocent by comparison.”
When we reached the second floor, Alec muttered a hasty goodnight and retreated to his room, his demeanor completely transformed from our enjoyable evening. I was about to enter my own room when Lord Edward’s voice stopped me.
“Care to join me for a midnight snack, Ian? I find myself in need of pleasant company after an evening of tedious business negotiations.”
The invitation was unexpected but not unwelcome. I nodded eagerly, my fatigue forgotten at the prospect of spending more time with him. “I’d be delighted, my lord, though I should warn you my conversation skills deteriorate significantly after ten o’clock. I may resort to discussing the weather or the comparative merits of different fertilizers.”
He chuckled, the sound warming me more effectively than any fire. “I’ll take my chances. Besides, after the evening I’ve had, agricultural discourse would be a welcome respite.”