— "Look at you! Your face looks much better already, and it's only your second lesson! Soon we shall try a gallop," Alex said with a faint smile.
— "Thank you, I suppose. That was a compliment, wasn't it?" the Duke replied, laughing.
Clearly, the road to confident riding was still a long one for the Duke. And yet, the fear that had once seized his limbs had loosened its grip. At last, he could begin to imagine the possibility of enjoyment.
— "Surely you don't mean to make me gallop today?" he asked, half smiling, though something tightened within him.
— "That depends on your progress," Alex returned.
— "I sincerely hope I'm not as talented as you."
— "Oh, rest assured — you are not," Young Lord's smile edged with mischief.
After a time, they let the horses slow to a walk. Alex, though outwardly composed, was still battling an odd mixture of emotions. The Duke still irked him — yet somehow, less than before. Alex made an effort to be friendlier, as if kindness could somehow wash away the embarrassing aftertaste left by their previous meeting.
"At the very least," Alex thought, "I have someone to ride with from time to time now. It's nice to have options, as Mother would say."
— "And how does the Young Lord spend his idle hours — when he isn't in the saddle or making hearts flutter, of course?"
The smile faded from Alex's lips, and a frown replaced it.
— "Must you forever cloak every question in mockery? I have many engagements though I reserve the right to keep them private unless you ask more politely."
The Duke's expression changed.
— "I beg your pardon if I've offended you. Please, won't you tell me of one of your engagements? I am truly curious."
Alex kept his gaze ahead, silent, considering what, if anything, he might share with Nathaniel. After a moment's hesitation, he spoke, almost reluctantly.
— "I loved music as a child. There was always a piano in our home."
His voice softened, tinged with an old melancholy.
— "But my father suffered from headaches. He would only allow me to practise when he was away. When I turned seventeen, my father's headaches grew worse. He ordered the piano removed. From that day on, he ceased attending any kind of noisy gathering and has preferred the company of silence ever since."
He turned slightly, offering the Duke an awkward smile. "Perhaps it was for the best. Over time, I found it more difficult to play when others could hear. It began to feel like... like an intrusion on something private. I stopped enjoying it."
Alex gave a small laugh, but it rang too forced. It was clear that there was little joy in his detachment from the instrument that had once meant so much.
The Duke fell silent, thoughtful. Then he laughed, softly.
— "What are you laughing at?" Alex asked, guarded.
— "I was thinking... We both had to part with something we loved. It's strange, isn't it? We may have more in common than I thought."
He smiled and glanced at Alex. The Young Lord raised an eyebrow and let out a quiet huff of amusement.
"Well. I hadn't imagined we'd share anything at all, aside from our fondness for horses. Though who doesn't love horses?" — Alex thought to himself.
— "Come to my estate on Tuesday morning," the Duke said suddenly. "We have two pianos — my mother's, actually. No one's touched them since she passed. I think they'd be glad to be played again."
Alex looked at him, surprised. A faint flush crept into his cheeks. He hadn't laid hands on a piano in years and now, this invitation felt almost too generous, especially by the Duke.
"It would be exceptionally rude to refuse such an invitation especially after the Duke visited us earlier…"
After a pause, Alex replied, "A-all right," and turned his face forward once more.
— "It's time to head back. Pick up the trot," Young Lord called, giving his horse the lightest nudge and riding ahead.
***
The Young Lord hesitantly knocked at the door the Cunningham's butler had shown him to.
— "Yes, do come in," came the voice from within.
His heart was pounding again, a sensation that had become all too frequent of late.
— "Good morning, Young lord. Please, come in. How are you feeling today?"
— "All right, thank you, and you?" Alex replied stiffly, eyes lowered.
What am I doing here? I couldn't stand him, and now I'm accepting his hospitality like some hypocrite.
— "Well enough, thank you. I won't trouble you with conversation. Let's begin. This room was my mother's favourite. That piano was hers. The second one's in the grand hall. You may try both and choose whichever suits you."
— "There's no need. I trust your mother's choice. That is, if you don't mind me playing it."
— "Of course not. I daresay she'd be glad to know her favourite companion came to life again. And I would too."
— "You don't play piano yourself?" Alex asked.
— "I was taught, yes — but I preferred listening. Always have."
Alex sat at the piano uncertainly.
— "I've dismissed the staff until nine this evening. The house is yours. I'll go for my usual walk. You'll see me from that window, heading out into the meadow. Once I've gone, you may begin."
Alex flushed. Isn't that rather unnecessary? I shouldn't have accepted his invitation, this is all far too much…
— "You really shouldn't have gone through such trouble"
— "Not at all. I always walk at this hour."
With that, the Duke touched Alex's shoulder — a quiet gesture that made him even more self-conscious — and left.
Alone, Young Lord leaned forward, resting his forehead against the closed lid of the piano.
"I shouldn't have come. Now I'll feel more obliged after all this trouble!"
He straightened, exhaled.
"Just once. I teach him to ride; he lets me play. We're even. I owe him nothing."
Alex's hand hovered above the keys. Something inside him still resisted. He stood abruptly and went to the window. The Duke's figure was retreating into the fields. The Young Lord watched him go. At one point, he thought Nathaniel might turn around, and in a panic, he ducked out of sight.
Heavens. What am I doing?
He forced himself back to the bench. His fingers touched the keys — tentatively at first, like reaching in the dark — then with growing ease. The sound was delicate and strangely beautiful, shaped by long period of silence.
Even Alex could admit it — he had missed this. Deeply.
"How much time has passed? God! He'll be back soon."
He'd lost himself in the music. When he stopped at last, a strange warmth lingered in his chest. Not only from the piano but from gratitude. Gratitude toward the Duke of Blackthorn for giving him this opportunity.
Feeling stifled, Alex rose and opened a window. The sunset was setting fire to the sky and golden light touched the piano's polished lid. All was still.
"What if he hears me?"
He hesitated.
"Why should I care what he thinks?"
He sat again and played.
The Young Lord didn't stop until the weight of the day finally caught up with him. The Duke had not yet returned. Alex stretched after sitting for a while, then rose and looked around. He had been too flustered at first to see beyond his own thoughts.
The room was bright and spacious, filled with the scent of polished wood, old books, and the faint trace of floral perfume in the upholstery.
A small blue velvet box caught his eye.
Everything in him urged restraint and good sense... but curiosity has little patience for propriety.
He opened it and found a ring.
Something dropped in his chest. An uncertain concern gripped him. He couldn't have said why, the sight of the ring was nothing unusual, hardly worth a second thought. And yet a strange tightness crept in and wrapped the Young Lord in its heavy embrace.
A knock.
Alex snapped the box shut and moved swiftly to the piano.
— "Come in," he called, steadying his voice.
The Duke entered, smiling.
— "How did you find the instrument? I hope you enjoyed it."
Caught off guard, Alex stammered, unsure what to say.
— "I should confess. I returned early. I heard the last fifteen minutes of your playing. Please, forgive me. I hope I didn't spoil the moment. But I must tell you, I was astonished. You play beautifully. I hope, one day — with your consent — I might hear you again."
Alex blushed fiercely.
— "Thank you. I-I'm afraid I've overstayed my welcome. I let myself get carried away. My head aches a little to be honest. I'd best return home. But thank you, truly. The piano is exquisite. It was a true honour to play it."
He bowed quickly, hiding his face.
— "Thank you for your words. Please, come again."
Young Lord left in haste.
— "Alex, how was your day?" — Lady Carlston asked her son as they met on the grand staircase of their mansion.
— "All's well, Mother. I'm tired and want to go up to my room," he said without slowing down.
Once inside his room, he closed the door and immediately began stripping off his clothes, eager to wash away the day. The Young Lord lay down in the bathtub and closed his eyes.
"Of course he was looking for a wife. I knew it."
For reasons he couldn't explain, Alex felt betrayed. Something inside creaked like a rusty old door. The Duke had enchanted him with his foolish smile and made him think they were friends or… something? But that wasn't true.
"We're not friends. We're rivals. I have a goal this season, and apparently, so does he. Besides, he's too old to be my friend!"
Suddenly, Alex stopped himself. Scenes from the day flashed through his mind: the gentle touch on his shoulder, the soft look in the Duke's eyes, and that velvety voice. Alex bent his knees and wrapped his arms around them.
"Why did I even think we could be friends? We see each other too often, it doesn't do us any good. I should go to the club and clear my head."
The Young Lord nodded to himself as if confirming the rightness of his decision. Yet somehow, it did nothing to ease the strange feeling that tightened his ribs and made it hard to take a breath. Alex rested his head on the edge of the tub and closed his eyes once again, overwhelmed by exhaustion.