— "Please, Alex," the Duke said with a note of concern, "do not approach her too quickly. She's been broken in, but I fear her independent nature may still surprise us."
— "I'll be careful," Alex promised — and kept his word.
The Duke was captivated by the way Alex approached the mare, speaking to her softly, as if he were some kind of wizard, privy to a secret known only to himself.
— "She's never behaved so amiably with anyone."
— "It's all about knowing how to speak to a horse. And truly loving them." Alex smiled.
— "It seems you know the language of animals and speak it with ease," the Duke smiled. "Once you and she are true companions, dare I hope to see you race on Altiva one day?"
A beautiful, dreamlike scene that Nathaniel could not tear his thoughts from. Altiva, and Alex astride her, seemed destined for triumph, shining even more brilliantly than before as they claimed a well-deserved victory.
— "I'm flattered by your offer, truly," he said slowly. "But you know I could never betray my father. The races are his passion. He counts on me. Horses are one of the few things that truly unite us."
— "I understand," the Duke said, hiding his disappointment. "Forgive me for bringing it up again. Your loyalty does you a great honour. Still, I shall be content — more than content — to see you ride Altiva today. I shall ask for no more."
During the ride, Nathan could hardly take his eyes off his friend. The Young Lord always rode in the same attire: fitted dark-gray breeches, a white shirt tucked in neatly, and boots. On the snowy-white horse with a mane resembling Alex's own hair, he was breathtaking — so much so that Nathaniel's breathing became uneven and he occasionally had to adjust the reins to keep the horse on course.
Confident in his own riding skills, Nathaniel applauded Alex as a teacher.
— "You have been an excellent teacher, and I am deeply grateful. I would like to find some way to repay your kindness."
Alex paused, then broke into a sly, self-satisfied smile.
Good heavens, what is he plotting? Please, not another stunt.
— "I want you to grant me a wish."
Nathaniel barely widened his eyes and laughed genuinely at such childish mischief.
— "You really don't take losing well, do you? Very well, you've earned it. I accept."
They spurred their horses into a gallop, later pausing at a grove by the stream to rest and drink. While they sat beneath the trees, Nathaniel mentioned his plan to host another ball in three weeks, assuring Alex that he and his family were invited. Then Alex said his father had asked when the Duke might visit to discuss horses, and Nathaniel accepted the invitation with genuine flattery, leaving them in a comfortable silence as they drank from the stream.
— "So... what is it you so passionately wish me to do?"
With a mischievous glint in his eye, Alex leapt up onto a large boulder. Nathaniel lifted his head from the grass to meet the boy's gaze.
— "You made a terrible mistake agreeing to this. My wish will shake you to your core!"
Just then, his foot slipped on the damp rock and Alex fell.
A wave of fear gripped the Duke, and he instinctively rushed to the Young Lord.
— "Alex, are you all right? How many fingers do you see?"
— "I'm fine," Alex grimaced, "but my leg hurts a bit."
Without a moment's hesitation, Nathaniel lifted him as if he were weightless and carefully set him back on the boulder.
— "Let me check. We must be sure it isn't fractured." He knelt, carefully rolling up the trouser leg and removing Alex's boot, certain that if Alex felt too much pain, it would indicate a fracture and the leg must not be disturbed.
— "Does it hurt here?"
— "Y-yes," Alex winced.
The Duke ran his hand along Alex's foot and noticed a few bruises.
What a shame. Such elegant legs… the delicate arch of the foot, the slender toes, the fine ankles… God, Nathan, concentrate!
He tore a strip from his own shirt and carefully bandaged the ankle for now.
— "You seem to know what you're doing," Alex said, watching him.
— "I've had the fortune to learn from many during my travels. A few were doctors. There." He tied the makeshift bandage firmly. "It's just a sprain. But I insist you rest and call for the real doctor. Do not ignore me on this."
The Duke replaced Alex's boot, stood, and offered his hand. Alex took it and rose, though he wobbled slightly. A fleeting thought crossed Nathaniel's mind, rare as a once-in-a-lifetime chance.
— "Please, forgive me in advance." The Duke smiled.
Before Alex could react, Nathaniel had lifted him effortlessly into his embrace.
— "What are you doing?!" Alex protested, blushing furiously.
— "Carrying you to the horse. What else would it be?" the Duke replied sweetly with a hint of mockery.
Could it be that you thought the same thing I did?
The Duke placed Alex next to Altiva, then bent down, grasped him under the knees, and lifted him onto the mare. The Young Lord emitted a soft, startled sigh.
I might carry him the entire day… if only I could.
Alex rode quietly and shyly all the way home, while the Duke stole glances at him, savoring the sight. When they arrived at the Carlston estate, the Duke dismounted from Waterlily, approached Alex, and helped him down from the horse — perhaps holding him in his arms for the last time in his life.
— "Please, stop treating me like a lady!"
— "And how would you prefer me to treat you in such a situation, my lord?" the Duke asked, laughing.
— "Thank you for your help. Will you be able to ride Altiva home on your own?"
— "I believe I shall manage."
— "Then go. And don't see me off! Goodbye!" Alex hobbled off, not daring to look back.
Sometimes he is so charming that I marvel at the amount of self-control I possess. I must visit him in the morning to check on his health. I hope he won't do anything reckless and summon a doctor… Who am I kidding?
***
In the morning, Nathaniel hurried to see him. He had intended to call on Alex's father as well, but no one was home. The butler led the Duke straight to the Young Lord's chambers. A slight flutter of excitement stirred in him, for it was the first time he stood before the door to Alex's bedroom. Nathan slightly knocked.
— "Yes, come in, Matilda."
Who is Matilda?
— "I beg your pardon, but it isn't Matilda. May I come in?"
Alex froze in surprise.
— "Y-yes, of course, do come in," the Young Lord said hastily.
The Duke's gaze swept over the room, then settled on his friend. Alex sat on the bed, his hair loose — either he hadn't had time or had forgotten to tie it back in his usual ponytail. It was the first time the he had seen him this way, and it stirred that familiar flutter in his chest, the sensation that had quietly become a constant part of his life.
— "How are you feeling? I was worried, so I thought I'd look in on you today. Forgive me the uninvited visit."
— "I'm well, thank you. And there's no need to apologise. Forgive me, rather, for having caused you any concern."
The Duke stepped closer.
— "May I take a look at your foot?"
Alex nodded.
— "You haven't told anyone about the sprain?"
— "Well, just Matilda, our maid. I didn't want to trouble anyone. And my father would likely be angry if he knew I injured myself just before the races. Though truly, I think it's nearly healed — another day or two and I'll be fine."
— "Just as I feared," the Duke sighed with a smile. "Ah, look here — the binding's not secure. Allow me to show you how to wrap it properly."
The Duke was delighted at the chance to kneel once more and demonstrate, noticing how Alex's cheeks tinged slightly pink — a shade that had quietly become Nathaniel's favorite.
When he finished, he stood up, smiled and turned his back to Alex, allowing his eyes to wander over the bookshelves.
— "I do hope I'll recover in time to dance at your ball."
For some reason, it gave the Duke a sharp pang in his chest. A flash of irritation struck him as images surfaced in his mind — Alex and… what was her name… smiling at each other, dancing through the night. Nathaniel couldn't resist. He didn't pause to think about what he was about to say; he simply yielded to the impulse.
— "With all due respect," he finally said, still facing the shelves, "I believe your foot is worth far more than the chance to impress young ladies at the ball."
A brief pause hung in the air. Nathaniel didn't dare turn to see the "fruits" of his own words, so he watched the bookshelf — or rather, through it — with growing unease.
"Huh. What answer do you expect from him? That he'll say, 'No, no, I want no ladies at any ball, I want only you'? Pathetic."
— "Why does it trouble you so much?" Alex finally said, his voice tight. "What's gotten into you all of a sudden? Is that truly all you see when you look at me? A frivolous young man who lives to charm and be admired?"
Inside, Nathaniel felt as if his chest had been hollowed out.
Why did I say that?
The Duke turned partially toward Alex and answered:
— "That is not what I think of you," he said evenly.
— "Then what do you think of me?" Alex demanded.
Nathan felt his heart finally sink.
No, boy, this secret will die with me. You shall never know the thoughts and desires I harbor for you. I must answer… yet the last thing I wish is to lie to him.
— "I'll be honest with you, Alex. At first — when I saw you alongside your mother — I did see a young boy accustomed to attention and fond of it. And I regret having judged you so quickly. Since then… things have changed. I've seen many sides of you, and…"
The unwelcome and untimely image of Alex at that ill-fated lake sprang unbidden to Nathaniel's mind, sending a flush to his cheeks. Instinctively, he brought a hand to his face, as if to check whether his skin had truly turned red. Yet there was no time to linger.
— "… and, perhaps, deep down, I envied you. The grace of your youth. The ease with which you wear your charm. The way hearts seem to follow you. And yes — your success in that role."
Nathaniel did not dare meet Alex's eyes. Instead, he stood half-turned, gazing out the window.
— "What do you mean by all this?"
Ah, damn it. What more do you want to hear from me? Have I not bared my soul to you enough?
Irritation surged through the Duke, mingling with a sharp anxiety. He forced a tight smile and finally met the Young Lord's eyes. Alex's face was full of anger — an expression Nathaniel had never seen before — which lent him neither confidence nor clarity. Like a cornered animal, he laid bare the last of himself, hoping the boy might take pity on his foolish words.
— "Does the Young Lord wish to hear one more time that he is young, charming and exceptionally handsome?"
Alex's expression was impossible to put into words. He abruptly swung around on the bed, sitting with his back to Nathan.
I've utterly enraged him. What a complete fool I am.
— "Apparently, the Duke's envy knows no bounds," Alex answered through clenched teeth.
The Duke chuckled softly.
I surrender. I've already ruined everything beyond repair.— "Perhaps so. I beg you to forgive this aging Duke for his few unfunny jokes from time to time."
— "That's nonsense. In fact, it's downright absurd! You've only dodged my original question with all these self-deprecating words," Alex answered, his nostrils flaring from anger.
Nathan fell silent. His heart pounded wildly. Suddenly, he realized that if he continued like this, he was on the verge of building a wall between them — one that could never be torn down.
— "With my tirade, I only meant to say this: you are magnificent in your role. A beautiful, worthy, and happy family life awaits you — with a wonderful wife. And you will be happy, I am sure of that. I did not mean to say anything unkind."
It's true. I told him the truth. Perhaps I should have phrased it more gently, so he wouldn't think I wished him anything but happiness.
"Liar. You care about your own happiness even more."
This conversation had drained the Duke utterly. He regretted every word he had spoken today.
— "I think you need some rest. Forgive me for troubling you; I'm truly sorry for making things worse," the Duke said, turning to leave the room.
— "Do you know what your problem is?!"
Wow. The Duke felt a rush of fear, surprise, and intrigue, his heart pounding as a strange thrill mixed with apprehension.
— "Please, do say it to me,"
Alex's tone was more serious than ever.
— "It's not about your envy. I'm certain that age distorts a person because it intoxicates them with experience. That experience becomes a reliance people lean on at every opportunity, as if their 'experience' grants them the right to wisdom — especially when it comes to judging others! But it's only an illusion of wisdom. The experience each person lives through is like a prism — a prism that will never reveal the true reasons and consequences behind another's actions. With your tirade, you only cast your own prejudices onto me, like sunlight filtering through stained glass, coloring a room in shifting hues. But the room itself remains unchanged! It's the same room! And your hasty conclusions reveal only yourself, not me. You've fallen into this trap. Don't ever make rash predictions about me, my life, or my wishes again."
The Young Lord said it all in one breath, as if he had rehearsed the speech the night before.
The Duke felt as if the ground had slipped from beneath his feet, but he regained his composure just in time. He couldn't meet Alex's eyes and looked away, his cheeks burning and his body trembling.
Shame. What a shame.
— "You are absolutely right. I regret what I said today. It would be an honor to discover the true, hidden depths of your soul aside from my prejudices, Young Lord — if I might one day earn your trust."
With a slight bow, the Duke left the room, not daring to cast a farewell glance back at his friend.
Seated in the carriage, the Duke pressed himself against the window and covered his face with his hands.
Why did I say all that? Who forced the words from me?
"You know why you said it."
How I wish you would vanish forever.
"Enough lies. You desire him so deeply that his happiness matters little. You don't wish him happiness — you wish to possess him."
Tears welled in Nathan's eyes. His hand fell to his mouth, as if it had spoken those words aloud.
It isn't true! I share every pain he suffers — what I know of it… Every ounce of his suffering weighs upon me tenfold! I would spare him all the torment, but…
The Duke buried his face in his hands. A tear slid down his cheek.
"But you want it to be you, and only you, to be there for him, to shield him from all the pain — not some aristocratic miss."
A grimace crossed the Duke's face. His soul ached as he wrestled with this inner voice.
I simply love him, I adore him, I am utterly besotted with him. How could I not want all of this?!
It had won. That cruel voice had unearthed what Nathan had struggled with all this time, what he had pushed down with every effort, convincing himself it was temporary, that one day it would pass, soothing himself with half-jokes and diversions.
When he returned home and locked himself in his room, he could no longer contain himself. Fear, irritation, sorrow, despair — all poured forth. He leaned against the wall, sank to the floor, and wept until there were no tears left. His body seemed drained, begging for mercy. Exhausted, he collapsed onto the bed and fell into a deep, untroubled sleep.
The Duke awoke late, staring at his swollen eyes in the morning light. He hardly recognized himself.
I've begun uttering that phrase far too often.
His gaze fell on the little figurine on his desk. He picked it up and stared at it with a distant expression, feeling nothing but exhaustion and helplessness. Then, gripping it tighter, a surge of resolve and will returned to him.
I will not destroy everything between us. I cannot allow this to happen. I must write to him. I am ready to beg for his forgiveness.
He seized a quill, and began to write to Alex, asking after his well-being and apologizing for the events of yesterday.