— "Sir, it is time you took a rest. I have brought you luncheon, knowing well you would not come down again," Sebastian said quietly.
— "Was it not you who urged me so long to return to my duties?" Nathan asked with a weary smile.
— "You mistake my intent. All things must be kept in measure — work included."
— "As ever, you are right. Yet to stop midway is the most difficult thing."
— "Then allow me to assist you." Sebastian came to the desk and set a tray upon the pile of neglected papers.
Though their conversations were usually clothed in courtesy, it would be false to call their bond one of master and servant alone. Sebastian was a friend, almost family; and so, at times, he permitted himself what no other attendant could have dared, if only it might serve his master's good.
Nathan laughed softly and submitted to the meal.
— "Sebastian… Tell me, has the letter…"
— "I fear not, Your Grace. Surely you do not believe I would withhold a letter from you?"
— "No, of course not. I only asked… Just in case. Forgive me for detaining you. You may go," the Duke said, his face clouding.
That morning Nathan had received a note in which Alex, pleading a headache, proposed to cancel their riding lesson. The message had troubled the Duke greatly; in haste he had written a reply, inquiring after his friend's health. Yet his worry was not only for that.
Could it be that the true reason for his refusal was me?
Anxiously he replayed their meetings — at the opera, and on the morning Alex had come to play the piano — searching his memory for some word, jest, or gesture that might have driven Alex away.
Finishing his meal with undue speed, Nathan buried himself once more in the mound of papers that had gathered during his absence. When the clock struck six, he stretched in his chair and turned toward the window. All day long the rain had beaten against the glass. A sudden thought, almost a reprieve, struck him at last — a thought his anxious mind had been too clouded to admit it sooner.
The rain! Of course, the rain! He must truly have felt unwell — and besides, what madman would choose to ride in such weather? Other than myself I suppose…
Nathan gave a bitter smile and rose from his desk. He had just reached for the door handle when a knock sounded. He opened it to find Sebastian, his face alight with tidings of cheer.
— "Sir, a letter. It has come!"
The Duke's expression transformed in an instant. He seized the envelope from the silver tray and, with hands unsteady, broke the seal without so much as reaching for the letter-knife lying upon his desk.
Sebastian lingered for a moment, watching his master with a trace of concern. Then, recollecting himself, he bowed and withdrew, leaving the Duke alone.
Your Grace,
I am grateful for your kind letter and your concern for my health. Pray, do not let my slight indisposition cause you unease; I assure you it is nothing serious, and with a little rest I shall soon be myself again. Your consideration is, as always, more than I deserve, and I thank you for it most sincerely. I hope I have not too greatly disturbed your plans for the day. May I ask how you chose to occupy yourself in place of our lesson?
Yours faithfully,
Alexander Carlston
Nathan seemed to brighten at once, a warm feeling spreading through his chest. He turned swiftly back to the desk; this time, however, he brushed the papers aside with an impatient hand, drew ink and pen toward him, and began to write his reply.
Thus began their brief exchange of letters — about his latest woodworking, their current reading, and the ordinary turns of daily life. Yet at some point, one of the Duke's letters remained unanswered.
I hope he is not worse… Or have I pressed myself upon him too often?
In the days that followed, Nathan buried himself beneath an ever-growing weight of obligations. Papers, audiences with bankers, consultations with solicitors — and more papers still. Shadows deepened beneath his eyes, yet even this ceaseless labour could not still the intrusive memory of the lake. Or, to be more precise, of him.
Vivid pictures would periodically breach the barricades he had so diligently patched with new tasks. He needed to exhaust himself utterly — to fall asleep the instant his head touched the pillow. For the moments before sleep were the most dangerous of all.
Ophelia, upon seeing her betrothed so worn on the day of the ball, was both distressed and displeased. Today's ball was of great importance! Nathan, however, deflected her concern with his usual half-playful manner, insisting that nothing was wrong — only that his prolonged absence had brought its inevitable demands, and nothing more.
That evening's ball took place in the garden, bathed in the warm glow of lantern-light. The air was fragrant with roses, and the soft murmur of conversation mingled with the distant strains of music.
— "Your Grace, when will you invite your lady-heart to dance?" one lady asked too boldly, her patience evidently worn to shreds.
So Ophelia's plan was working like clockwork. But where is she herself?
Not far off, Ophelia stood listening with a self-satisfied smile, Emily beside her with a gentler one.
The Duke discharged his duties with dignity, answering the insistent questions of the ladies around him, yet his gaze was restless, searching. At last he caught sight of a familiar figure — that wheat-colored crown of hair he had not seen in a fortnight, though it felt an eternity.
Without a second thought, he said, "Pray, excuse me," and broke from his circle of ladies, striding toward his friend.
— "I am really glad to see you, Young Lord. How have you been feeling these past days?" Nathaniel inquired softly.
— "My health has kept me from writing these last three days. However, I am quite restored now, and I hope my silence has not offended you."
— "Please, there is no need for such apologies. You are under no obligation to correspond unless you so desire." The Duke smiled kindly.
What a relief.
But as soon as the strains of the orchestra called the guests to dance, Nathan steadied his nerves and politely excused himself, then moved toward Ophelia, finally ready to ask her to dance.
— "I was beginning to fear you had forgotten me and would invite someone else instead. How is your young friend faring?" she asked with a teasing smile.
— "Ophelia, what nonsense is this?" Nathan replied with a smile, twirling his lady through the dance.
From the outside, they must have looked happy, even in love, just as the whole plan demanded. Ophelia, at last freed from her restraint and surrendered to the movement of the dance, was graceful and radiant — a quality that could not exactly be said of Nathan. Though they had practiced together a few times, he still felt slightly awkward and seemed to stumble once or twice. He could only laugh at his own mistakes, while Ophelia merely raised her brows in playful reproach, yet continued to look exquisite.
Suddenly, he caught sight of Alex dancing with some young lady. Nathan quickly averted his gaze, forcing himself not to wander with his thoughts to places he knew he must not. He returned his attention to Ophelia, smiling at her warmly.
When the dance ended, the Duke took Ophelia's arm and led her toward the refreshment table. As she chatted happily, and Nathan agreed to something here and there, he tried to catch a glimpse of Alex out of the corner of his eye.
To his surprise, he saw the Young Lord conversing with a charming chestnut-haired beauty he danced with. Usually Alex was surrounded by a crowd of admirers, yet now he seemed to have chosen her company and looked happy.
Later Nathan's suspicion was confirmed: the Young Lord did indeed spend the remainder of the evening with the lady, a fact that stirred an unpleasant knot of anxiety in Nathan's stomach.
He was angry with himself.
Nathan, stop. As if you did not already know this.
By the end of the evening, the Duke felt utterly exhausted.
— "Ophelia, I do not know if I can endure another such event," he admitted.
She giggled and replied, "You have no choice!"
He took her arm and prepared to see her to the carriage. As soon as he stepped out of the estate, he spotted Alex in the distance with his new companion. The Young Lord bent and kissed her hand.
Once again, the Duke's heart faltered. He froze for a moment, but quickly recovered, turned to Ophelia with a smile, and continued toward the carriages, no longer glancing at his friend.
Ophelia looked concerned, yet when the Duke smiled at her, she returned the gesture. He helped her into the carriage, then stepped into his own. Sitting down, he drew a deep breath and felt as though he might lose consciousness from sheer exhaustion right there in the carriage.
He loosened his cravat and gazed into the darkness through the window, propping his chin in his hand and frowning.
"You're such a fool."
Yes. I am. For the first time in my life, I will be condemned to watch the one I care for first marry, then have children, and live a life of happiness while I remain on the sidelines. Well. As far as I know, such a fate is all too common among my peers. Apparently, it was inevitable that I should not escape it. It was wise of me to choose older partners, for they had already despaired of this sated, sour life.
Nathan bit his tongue lightly and pulled himself back. The sting of envy at that sated, sour life forced him to lean back in his seat and cover his face with his hand.
The next morning, the Duke could barely open his eyes. Fatigue had taken its toll, and for the first time, he consented to breakfast in bed. Gazing absently out of the window, he ate, hardly tasting the food, until he was interrupted.
A knock.
— "Yes, Sebastian? Has something happened?"
— "Sir, why do you always assume I come to you only with bad news?" The butler snorted softly and walked over to the bed.
— "Forgive me, Sebastian. I'm a bit out of sorts today and did not mean to offend. In that case, is the news good?"
— "That is for you to judge." He handed the Duke a parcel.
The Duke looked at the box. "France! Already?" He hurriedly opened it, feeling a rising thrill of excitement.
— "Sebastian, this is truly good news! Fetch Sam and tell him this package must be delivered safely and as quickly as possible. The address—"
— "I know the address, sir. It will be done." Sebastian bowed and left the room.
The Duke immediately set aside the tray, sprang briskly from the bed, and, smiling, made his way out of the room.