Nathan took his seat in the carriage, a spark of enthusiasm kindling within him. This was to be his first appointment promising discourse on matters of genuine interest — and, mercifully, without the throng of society's tiresome crowds. Upon arrival, the butler escorted him into the house.
No sooner had the Duke crossed the threshold than Alex's parents greeted their guest with cordial warmth. He returned their salutations with equal grace, posing a few courteous inquiries before casting his eye about the entrance hall.
Suddenly, Alex appeared, clad in a loose white shirt and breeches suitable for riding. The room instinctively turned towards him.
There was a certain allure in the subtle disarray of his attire, bestowing upon him a charm born of simplicity — a charm that Nathaniel found most endearing.
Nathan caught the widening of Alex's eyes.
Could it be he meant to slip away before my arrival, but failed?
The Duke greeted him courteously, and the parents beckoned their son to join them at breakfast. Throughout the meal, Alex remained silent, while Nathaniel found himself engrossed in conversation with Lord Carlston, momentarily forgetting the boy's presence.
After breakfast, Lord Carlston invited Alex and the Duke to inspect the horses in the stables. At one point, the butler entered to inform Lord Carlston that he must hasten if he wished to keep an appointment with a banker. Alex's father, apparently having forgotten, assured that any remaining questions could safely be directed to his son.
The Duke glanced at Alex with a kindly smile, though the Young Lord's expression showed no pleasure at the prospect.
Alex approached Soul and began to stroke her nose. After a brief, awkward silence, Alex ventured, "You would perhaps like to ride one of our horses, Your Grace?"
Nathan smiled faintly, confessing his fear of horses, perhaps, for the first time aloud, since everyone around him knew the story of Uncle Edward's death. To the Duke's surprise, the boy did not tease him or offer any remarks; he said nothing, simply took Nathan's hand and led him onward, leaving him even more intrigued.
What an odd lad… I shall never truly fathom what goes on in his mind.
Alex guided the Duke to the horse, saying, "This is Waterlily. You'll ride her today. First, you must stroke her nose. She'll only trust you if you do."
A shiver ran through the Duke, mingled with a growing fear. He was stunned — this was not what he had anticipated. Yet the Young Lord appeared so confident and earnest that the Duke could not comprehend how he might appear should he falter now.
He carefully touched the horse, who responded by nudging his hand, hoping for a treat. The Duke smiled. As he pet Waterlily, Alex busied himself harnessing her. Nathan watched out of the corner of his eye, the scene seeming almost dreamlike.
How strange to see him so dishevelled — and harnessing a horse with his own hands, without the aid of a groom. Not that it ill suits him; the boy looks rather… unusual.
When Alex finished, he beckoned the Duke with a gesture.
— "I hope you remember how to mount?"
— "I'm afraid I do," the Duke replied, attempting humor to quell the rising tremors within his breast. He found it difficult to believe that he would truly mount the horse this day.
With the Young Lord leading at first, Nathan gradually regained confidence, completing a full circuit as fear gave way to delight. When Alex joined him on Soul, the newly minted teacher's calm guidance and gentle encouragement allowed the Duke to trust the horse once more.
But that stupid dangerous stunt…
Once Nathan had regained a measure of composure, he forced himself to meet Alex's gaze and faintly smiled.
— "It's all right…" the Duke said, though, in truth, he felt a surge of anger toward the damn boy for stirring memories he had long struggled to forget.
Nathan proceeded to relate the tale of his fear. Why he did so, he could not say. It was not a matter that concerned Alex in the least.
I teased him enough that he likely sought to prove himself — and to tease me in return. What a fool I am. I am as childish as he, If not even more...
Nathan felt as though sharing it might temper the Young Lord's reckless impulses, especially before him. It was not worth the risk. When the Duke's story ended, Alex's expression darkened.
They rode on in silence. Nathan sensed he had cast a shadow over Alex's mood but knew not how to ease it. He rarely found himself at a loss for words. Thus, he remained quiet.
Suddenly, the Duke heard words he least expected.
— "Please, Your Grace… I am very guilty before you, I took responsibility as a teacher and I failed… I am very sorry. I promise I won't pull anything reckless in your presence again. Don't let this stop you from riding. I'll train you gently on Waterlily. I swear it."
The Duke turned to Alex, astonished.
— "I…" the Duke stammered.
His emotions were a tangled storm. All this time, he had viewed Alex as boyishly unserious — perhaps even a touch arrogant. And now? The young man had taken full responsibility, cast aside his justifiable frustration, and was now offering encouragement, urging him forward?
Is it possible that the only arrogant and foolish boy here was me?
The Duke thought, before he could form a coherent reply.
— "Come Saturday, at eleven. I'll have Waterlily ready for you. For now, let's head home."
Nathaniel guided Waterlily about, his heart pounding fiercely. His thoughts swirled in turmoil.
He could refuse, rebuild the wall between them, avoid the necessity of spending so much time with him. He could refuse and cease all interaction with the boy who had forced him to relive his darkest fears with such vividness. He could refuse, begin to ignore him, and then marry Ophelia — just as planned.
But the Duke desired none of these.
His tongue faltered to respond to Alex's unexpectedly firm invitation, which brooked no refusal — as if the Duke had no choice but to comply. Well, he wanted to comply.
Yet it was not only that. Nathan felt an impulse to entrust this fragile intention to regain pleasure in riding to this boy — the magnificent rider who had unexpectedly become the keeper of his family's tragedy, told in his own words for the first time.
The Duke would need time to reflect upon all that had transpired this day. He would need time to decide that a new friend wouldn't go amiss, at best. Who else could they possibly become to one another?
He is far too young and far too fond of ladies' company. And too reckless… and far too inexperienced for me, that's for certain.
Silently, Nathan dismounted Waterlily and handed the reins to his new teacher. Summoning his will, he asked, "Saturday at eleven?"
— "Saturday at eleven."
***
The Duke was no longer quite so terrified, though a certain anxiousness still gripped him. Almost without hesitation, Alex proposed they move on to the trot, as if it were the most natural progression — and Nathan's tension returned in full force.
— "Look at you! Your face looks much better already, and it's only your second lesson! Next time 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, though no clear answer came.
Nathan saw a change in the Young Lord — the boy's words and bearing declared some sort of boldness that revealed itself mostly in playful jests. Firm in the saddle, he seemed to savour his advantage over the Duke, who was still faintly shaken by fear. Riding in thoughtful silence, Nathan finally inquired how Alex spent his idle hours, though he could not resist a playful quip himself.
— "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."
Damn. I've messed it up again.
— "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 fell silent for a moment, but then his features softened as he spoke of his childhood love for music and the piano that had always been in his home, before his father's worsening migraines.
— "Perhaps it was for the best."
Huh. He's too young to lie convincingly. Poor thing… Amusingly, we have far more in common than I had imagined. Maybe I could encourage him by?...
— "Come to my estate on Tuesday morning," the Duke said to his own surprise, yielding to the sudden impulse. "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 stunned, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. Understandably so, considering only a few days prior they had been thoroughly irritating one another.
— "Very well," answered the Young Lord, turning his face forward once more. "It's time we return. Pick up the trot," Alex called, giving his horse a gentle nudge and signaling Waterlily to do the same, much to the Duke's alarm.
The boy appears to enjoy teasing me as much as I do him.
And so they rode toward the Carlston estate, the summer sun shining brightly over the fields, the air fresh with the scent of greenery — a fragile truce blossoming between the two.