Nathaniel had awoken that morning with a lingering sense of unease — not from nightmares, but from the haunting echo of the Young Lord's pale face beneath a cold compress suffering from headache. He had written to Alex without much deliberation, requesting his butler deliver the letter at once. The ink was barely dry when Sebastian slipped away with it.
The Duke then turned to his usual remedy — distraction. He stepped into the carpentry annex beyond the garden hedge, sleeves rolled, the scent of wax and pine already calming his restless thoughts. Such work had long offered him refuge from intrusive thoughts.
By noon, the heat had grown oppressive. His shirt clung to him with sweat, so he removed it and continued working bare-chested, carving leaf patterns into a chair back with slow, practiced precision.
He did not hear the gate open.
Nor did he hear the soft footsteps on the gravel path.
It was only when the door creaked ajar and refused to shut that he glanced aside, certain Sebastian was about to reproach him for leaving the papers untouched. But instead, there in the doorway stood Alex — flushed, stunned, eyes wide, lips slightly parted.
The Duke blinked. For a moment, both men froze.
— "Ah, Young Lord!" Nathaniel recovered with a start. "I did not expect you to catch me like this, I thought it was Sebastian… Please, come in!"
He gestured toward a wooden bench, then immediately added.
— "Though, perhaps not here, it's rather dirty. If you are uncomfortable, you may wait outside, I will freshen up in a second."
With a slight shake of his head, Alex murmured:
— "Forgive me… for coming without notice and disturbing your plans."
— "Nonsense," the Duke said warmly. "You did not disrupt anything, I am very glad to see you." And he meant it. "Apparently, you are feeling better! How glad I am!"
Alex nodded and then confusedly asked:
— "You… make furniture?"
— "Something like that. I understand your surprise. When I was in Prussia, I unexpectedly found this outlet for myself," the Duke laughed. "If you think it's strange, I will understand."
— "I don't think so." Alex kept his eyes on the scattered tools on the table.
— "Would you like to try? Come, I'll teach you."
At one point, as Alex practiced this new and unfamiliar skill, the Duke's gaze lingered on him, and he could not suppress a smile. The boy looked adorably focused: his brows drew together, his cheeks flushed, and his lips pressed more firmly than usual.
Working alongside someone in silence was remarkably soothing, even though Nathan had always reserved a special place for solitude among his companions. When the Duke's eyes dropped to Alex's hands, he realized why the task was proving so difficult.
— "See, it's better to hold the chisel like this."
— "Like this?"
— "Not quite. Now like this."
Before Alex could say anything, the Duke extended his arms past the Young Lord to guide his grip. One hand steadied his wrist, the other covered his fingers.
— "The best way to hold the chisel is like this. Thumb here," Nathaniel said, slightly guiding the grip.
Nathan instantly remembered the last time he had breathed in that delicate scent of lavender. Yet today, something felt different. He did not wish to tease the boy, but what did he want, then? At this very moment Alex's back straightened and his body tensed.
Damn, I had quite forgotten myself.
Nathaniel stepped back with studied nonchalance.
— "Yes, just like that," he smiled, trying to forgive himself for the fact that his pupil still had not learned to hold the knife properly.
The workshop's heat became nearly stifling by evening. Despite open windows, fresh air was scant, and fine shavings glimmered in the sunset, settling on clothing, hair, and flushed cheeks.
— "Let's call it a day," Nathaniel suggested. "Come, let's sit in the shade for a bit."
Leaning against the cool wall of the outbuilding, Nathan recalled the nearby lake and suggested a refreshing dip after the stifling day. Alex gave a silent nod.
At the water's edge, the Duke reached for the buttons of his shirt out of habit, but paused, remembering just how many boundaries he had already crossed today. Instead, he removed his boots and stepped into the river, the cold water curling around his ankles and rising over his legs as he waded deeper.
After a few steps, he turned back to see where his guest was — and froze.
— "Alex!"
The boy was already mid-jump from a mossy stone ledge jutting out over the river. With his arms extended and his form arched like a diving hawk, he sliced into the water below.
Nathan's heart seized. He rushed forward, ignoring the shock of the cold as it reached his waist, and only stopped when Alex resurfaced — unharmed, smiling, water streaming from his hair and cheeks.
—"A-Are you alright?" Alex asked with concern.
God help me, this boy!
Nathan forced a laugh, though his voice trembled slightly.
— "Thank God you're alright. I'm so sorry, I didn't get a chance to warn you. I never expected you to be so… reckless."
Or daredevil!
— "There used to be a bridge here once, and there might still be some pilings left. I... was afraid you'd crack your head open."
— "Sorry for worrying you so much," Alex replied, shamefully looking away.
— "It's alright, you didn't know. And everything turned out fine, didn't it?"
Well, not quite fine. I'm still trembling, damn it! At this rate, I'll be gray before the year is out.
They drifted back toward the shallows where they could stand more steadily. Nathan tried to will away the tremor in his limbs and conceal yet another mortifying fright inspired by the boy.
For a moment, he turned his head, closed his eyes, and drew a deep breath in and out. The cool water restored a measure of his composure. Gentle ripples, caused by someone nearby, brushed against his hips, subtly rocking his body.
Instinctively, he turned his head and opened his eyes.
At this very second Nathan forgot how to breathe. He felt the world constrict around his chest; his breath caught between awe and something dangerous. His stomach twisted sharply, the way it does in moments of fear, though this was no fear at all.
It was this boy.
Alex moved with effortless grace, adjusting the ribbon in his hair, the loose strands clinging to damp cheeks. His soaked shirt traced every line of his lithe body, every subtle shift of muscle beneath pale, unblemished skin. A few buttons had slipped open, revealing the faintest blush along his chest. Light from the sinking sun kissed the water on his skin, glinting along the curves and angles Nathan had never before noticed with such clarity.
The Duke's gaze was riveted. His hands longed to reach out, yet he dared not move or blink. He dared not startle the exquisite fawn before him, nor lay a hand upon something as flawless as a Greek god, descended from a painter's dream. For a heartbeat, the world vanished, leaving only Alex — radiant, untouchable, devastatingly present, so close to Nathan.
A few seconds had passed, but to Nathan it felt like a lifetime.
And then Alex turned, his hands still raised, and flashed the warmest smile — only to splash water at him with unexpected mischief.
The spell broke. Nathan flinched, as if jolted awake from sleep. That mischief pulled him back into reality. Gathering himself, he laughed awkwardly, and returned "fire" with a splash of his own. Nothing was to betray what had happened within him, at any cost.
They played in water like boys, but Nathan spent the rest of the evening trying not to look Alex directly in the eyes. It seemed that a single glint of his green eyes could betray the riot of feelings battering him with relentless siege, breaking down his walls of proprieties, beliefs, and preferences.
When they finally left the river, dripping and smiling, Alex proudly declared himself the victor of their aquatic games. Nathan didn't argue. He merely laughed, keeping his gaze strictly forward.
By the time they reached the estate, the sun had nearly disappeared beyond the trees. Nathan suggested Alex wait on the bench in the garden while he went inside. He asked the butler to prepare a light supper on the grass — something simple.
While waiting for the basket and blanket to be brought, Nathan leaned against the cold interior wall of the corridor, palm pressed to his mouth.
It's nonsense. It's impossible. It's just impossible. What a force, I nearly collapsed. Is he truly the devil's servant? No, forgive me God, he is your faithful angel. How could I haven't noticed before? Why only now?!
— "Impossible," he whispered to no one aloud once more.
When the meal was ready, he composed himself and returned outside. They sat opposite each other, Alex wrapped in a towel, happily munching on sandwiches. His hair, though still damp, curled slightly at the tips. He looked content, the kind of peace only the exhausted and thoroughly entertained know.
When the meal ended, Alex stood.
— "I don't want to take up any more of your kindness. I've already taken too much of your time. Maybe it's time for me to go. Thank you for today. I haven't laughed this much in ages."
— "You never impose," said Nathan, forcing himself for the first time to meet Alex's eyes. "It's I who should thank you. Without you, Sebastian probably would have forced me to deal with paperwork."
He chuckled, but then noticed Alex's clothes still clinging damply to his frame. The evening was cooling quickly. A chill would come soon.
— "Perhaps you'd like to stay?" At that very second, Nathan's insides clenched with terror at the thought he might actually agree. "I can find you some clean, dry clothes. We have plenty of space."
For a moment, Alex hesitated. His eyes flicked toward the house — and then something flickered behind them. He gave a polite smile. Nathan's chest froze in expectation.
— "I think I'd better go home. Nothing is needed. But I'm grateful for your offer. Maybe another time. I'll be waiting for you at your riding lesson Tuesday morning."
Nathan walked him to the gate and stood watching until Alex disappeared down the lane.
Then he returned to the house in silence and locked the door behind him — a habit he never had before. Alone now, he leaned against it, then slowly sank to the floor, his back pressed to the wood.
His breath came in short bursts. His hand covered his mouth again, but this time it could not hold back the growing panic.
Damn, damn, damn!
That voice — the one he always tried to rein in or lull to sleep — was awake again.
"I saw the way you looked at this child."
— "He's not a child," Nathan hissed to himself, jaw tight.
"No. But that's what you'll tell his mother when you lose control?"
— "I've known this struggle before. I can resist."
The admission slipped out too quickly. And the moment he heard it, Nathan froze.
I've known this struggle before…
A wave of dread swept through him. His throat closed. His lungs refused to fill.
"Louis could never have imagined he would be forgotten so quickly. And for whom? For a mere boy, a darling of the ladies. Would Louis have laughed heartily, or been wounded to the very core? Huh."
Nathan forced his hands into fists and focused on his breathing. Slowly, inch by inch, the panic receded. The voice finally quieted.
— "I will endure," Nathan muttered aloud. "I always have. Louis is a thing of the past. And Alex… We stand on opposite sides. Surely he will do something reckless soon, and I'll be reminded of all the reasons this cannot be. Get married, for example, to some young lady who will be over the moon with happiness beside him. Yes. It will certainly help. And then, ten years later, I will remember him again."
Nathan laughed. Then he stood at last, crossed to his study, and sat at his desk. There were always papers to sort. And work, unlike desire, never asked difficult questions.