The ballroom shimmered under the candlelight. The Duke stepped in just as he caught sight of Lady Carlston's back — and, presumably, her son's beside her. At that very moment, he heard a remark:
— "All the guests are assembled, yet His Grace can't even be bothered to say a word of greeting. And people actually fawn over him?"
The Duke barely chuckled.
What's got into him?
Nathan thought, and with a practiced smile offered a grand, deliberate welcome to all the assembled guests.
From the moment his boots touched the marble, the Duke became exactly what society expected of him — charming, unbothered, and welcoming host.
Ladies surrounded him instantly, their fans fluttering like wings. He offered just enough attention to keep their interest, but not enough to promise anything real. As per Ophelia's instructions, he danced with none of them. The point was anticipation. Let them whisper, let them guess.
And in those brief lulls — while others danced the quadrille — Nathan allowed his gaze to wander across the floor.
There — Young Lord Carlston.
He moved with a kind of effortless elegance, the sort one couldn't quite learn. His steps were measured and confident, yet tinged with a faint complacency — rather in himself than in his partner, as it appeared to Nathan.
If God exists, he gifted that boy with unnatural allure. His partner looks ready to swoon. Can't imagine what the rest are thinking.
At one point, Nathan noticed that a few of Alex's admirers had quietly slipped into his own circle — a small but telling victory in Ophelia's scheme, just as she had wished for.
The Duke admitted to himself that it brought him a certain satisfaction. He wanted to tease the boy after the loud remark Young Lord had made earlier. And it pleased Nathan, if only a little, to unseat that pride.
Being hospitable in London is challenging enough, and here I am already facing such remarks…
— "Your Grace, are you quite well?" one of the ladies inquired gently.
— "My apologies," he replied smoothly, shaking off his thoughts. "I fear I have grown dizzy from the sheer beauty of this assembly. I cannot recall encountering so many radiant faces during my travels."
Everyone gasped, delighted.
— "Even in Paris?" someone echoed.
— "Without a doubt." He smiled, and the room sparkled a bit brighter.
As the evening wore on, Nathan's circle gradually drifted near Lady Carlston. She spoke with the Duke with a warmth devoid of any hidden motives, and thus their conversation afforded Nathan a brief respite from the role he so dutifully maintained.
— "The Duke, you are a rare example of young men who only grow more handsome with age."
— "You flatter me, Lady Carlston. Please, do call me by my name."
— "Forgive my old habits. You are no longer a boy, but I shall try. Speaking of boys…"
Upon seeing Alex, Lady Carlston beckoned her son over.
Wishing to please the kindly friend of his mother, the Duke resolved to bestow upon Alex a sincere compliment.
— "Young Lord Carlston, I'm very pleased to meet you! I must say, you have no equal in the art of dancing. I have traveled widely and can say such talent and grace are rare indeed!"
Nathan could not help but notice how the Young Lord flushed at the applause, which took him by surprise. He had thought Alex would have long since grown accustomed to such compliments.
Perhaps I have already provoked far too much irritation in him for reasons I could not quite fathom. Surely, I must choose my words with greater elegance.
Presently, some of Lady Carlston's old acquaintances joined their circle, and Nathan found himself once again obliged to answer a few factual inquiries and political remarks.
At one point, someone in the group said: "Young Lord, don't be shy to join our conversation! The Duke may be your new rival, but with your talents, there's a piece of the pie for you too."
Ouch, too harsh.
Laughter rippled through the gathering. Nathan donned a hospitable smile befitting the host of the ball, yet beneath it, his eyes betrayed a flicker of concern for Alex.
— "Please, excuse me. I must withdraw for a while." Young Lord murmured, bowing lightly before swiftly making his way out of the ballroom.
The lords continued their chatter, likely about the boy's abrupt departure, but Nathan paid them no heed. His gaze followed Alex as he hurried from the ballroom.
God, these fools have lost all sense of decency.
Nathan caught Ophelia's glance, who had been watching his progress throughout the ball, arm-in-arm with Emily.
It seems I must attend to the well-being of one of my guests.
— "I require some fresh air. Thank you for the conversation; please, enjoy the evening," Nathan said with a smile and went in pursuit of Alex.
He slipped into the adjoining hall and saw the Young Lord making his way toward a window. Suddenly, a ribbon loosened from his hair and fell to the floor. Without quite knowing why, Nathan sprang forward to retrieve it — as if the ribbon might turn to dust upon touching the floor. Shaking off the strange thought, he carefully lifted the fallen piece of silk and looked up.
He found Alex watching him with a frown.
— "What are you doing here? Give me back my ribbon!" the Young Lord demanded, extending his hand.
Nathan smiled gently.
— "I regret you were spoken to like that. Some people don't know where wit ends and rudeness begins. Are you planning to return to the ballroom shortly, Young Lord? Allow me to help you with your hair — it will be difficult to do by yourself without a mirror."
Alex's brows furrowed more deeply as he regarded him. Nathan was amused that it took the Young Lord several seconds to decide on the gesture of sincere help.
— "All right, but please be quick," Alex replied, turning his back to the Duke.
A faint smirk touched Nathan's lips.
Perhaps, he missed a few etiquette lessons. Quick, huh? A little mischief shall lighten my evening.
With deliberate slowness, Nathan reached into Alex's hair, his fingers trailing gently along the temples before gathering the strands behind his head in one hand, while the other helped secure the rest. He knew all the particularly sensitive spots far too well.
Nathan noticed Alex's shoulders twitch.
Tense, indeed. He looks ready to burst. Even his ears have flushed. So cute.
Leaning slightly closer, Nathan inhaled the scent without a second thought.
Lavender? An odd choice, but pleasing one.
Then he exhaled softly, making the Young Lord shiver once more at the warmth of his breath upon his neck.
Carefully, Nathan fashioned the hair into a neat tail, tying the ribbon into an elegant bow.
"Th-thank you," Alex muttered, abruptly turning, bowing slightly in acknowledgment, and swiftly returning to the ballroom.
The Duke stood momentarily stunned, then chuckled.
This shall be far more entertaining than I imagined.
***
— "Ophelia, I even helped him gather his hair into that blasted tail of his, what more do you want from me?"
— "Don't take me for a fool, Nathan. I saw him return to the ballroom with a gait even sterner than when he left. Very well, then. Please, do not share any more of your 'encouragement' with him. It would be wiser for you to ignore him at the next ball. You're acting like a child yourself, for God's sake. Now, let us focus on our plan…"
And so, all gathered began to listen intently as Ophelia unfolded the next steps of her cunning design.
For the Duke, wearied by the task of engaging with countless ladies, respite was found in a newfound hobby — carpentry — which he had taken to during his travels — and an old, rekindled passion: horse racing.
He had brought with him a magnificent Barbary mare named Altiva and was eager to test her capabilities on the racetrack. To that end, he sought the counsel of lords and employed the finest jockey for the forthcoming race.
On the day of the event, the Duke felt a freedom from the usual tension of the ballroom because Ophelia did not include races in her plot. Nathan had just finished giving instructions to Altiva's jockey when he noticed a familiar figure in the stables.
Oh, it's you again!
Nathan was astonished to hear that Alex would be riding his own horse, and curiosity carried him to the stall where the boy was soothing a proud mare. With a half-smile, the Duke offered a rather teasing comment, but the reply came swift and fierce. Alex spun round, his eyes flashing. "We'll see about that," he shot back, and for once Nathan was taken aback by such open defiance. True, the young man had never gone to great lengths to conceal his dislike — but never before had he snapped at Nathan so openly.
It seems I truly struck a nerve and… maybe overstepped a bit. Perhaps I simply did not expect to run into him so often. He seems to be everywhere!
The races began, and the Duke took his place in the front rows, surrounded by lords who had advised the jockey and placed wagers on Altiva. All the riders were at the starting line, Alex among them, his eyes briefly closed, which made Nathan wonder if he had lost his wits.
The pistol fired. Alex was the last to break from the line. The Duke smiled wryly.
It seems I have unsettled him thoroughly. Quite awkward.
By the second lap of intense observation, Nathan noticed a challenger closing in on Altiva.
Impossible!
Thirty seconds to the finish. Altiva's jockey, a seasoned professional, urged her forward with a whip to pull ahead from Alex. The Duke was not surprised by this tactic but grew nervous, hoping it would secure victory. Young Lord, on the other hand, lowered his whip and crouched low over his mount.
The madman!
The Duke's heart was pounding with adrenaline. Confident in Altiva's considerable lead, the Duke could scarcely imagine anyone catching her. He leapt to his feet and gripped the railing tightly, instinctively determined to see who would cross the finish line first. The crowd erupted.
When the victor was declared, the Duke felt a rare, childlike thrill and approached the Young Lord with a wide, unrestrained smile spreading across his face.
How splendid! Marvelous!
Overcome by emotion, Nathan approached Alex with a wide smile.
— "Sincere congratulations, Young Lord! Victory suits you! It would be a true honour to see you on Altiva one day."
Alex blushed, but the moment was cut short as he was called to the stage for his prize, and he withdrew.
During the awards ceremony, the Duke was hailed and he turned.
— "Lord Carlston! It is a pleasure to see you in good health and with the same steadfast devotion to the races as ever! You have gifted us all a most thrilling contest. I doubt I shall close my eyes tonight!" The Duke laughed warmly.
— "Thank you, Duke! To be honest, your Altiva had this old man quite nervous. What a horse! Where on earth did you find such a treasure? I never thought the Cunninghams would become renowned for their steeds! But you clearly lack experience. Allow me to invite you to breakfast tomorrow. Your late father — may God rest his soul — was a fine man, a true friend of mine, and cheered for our horses as if they were his own! I wish to pay tribute and share with his son the art of selecting riders!"
Nathan chuckled.
— "It is a great honour. I shall gladly accept your invitation."
They bowed to one another, and the Duke smiled as he parted from the crowd.
After the event, seated in his carriage home, the exhilaration began to wane. A sudden thought crossed his mind.
Good heavens, what did I say to this boy?
Instinctively, he covered his mouth with his hand, as if to take back his words.
Rider of Altiva… Good Lord.
He closed his eyes, shaking his head.
That blasted youth. Never thought I'd say such a thing to that brat. Well, Nathan, admit it — today he was magnificent, achieving the impossible. And at twenty-two! Perhaps he bartered his innocence for such talent?
The Duke smiled at the absurd thoughts crossing his mind. He removed his hand from his face and rested it on his knee, gazing out the carriage window with a soft smile until he reached home.