The Duke wrote to Alex daily, inquiring about the condition of his ankle. Alex responded readily, as if nothing had happened. This brought some relief to Nathan, yet he could not rid himself of their previous conversation, and a relentless shame gnawed at him — shame for losing control and revealing a less flattering side of himself to Alex, and shame because everything he had said had been true.
A few days later, the Duke decided to consult his friend about the theme for the upcoming ball. He wanted to involve Alex in conversation, to include him in the planning.
If I must play by the rules, I would at least like to do so with a touch of pleasure.
In his reply, Alex confessed he had always dreamed of a masquerade ball, with masks and wigs — an actual masquerade where no one could recognize anyone else. Nathaniel smiled; it was indeed a delightfully whimsical idea. He wrote back immediately, promising to arrange it and instructing Alex to prepare his costume.
— "Lady Ophelia Latham," Sebastian announced.
The Duke hastily sealed the letter.
— "Yes, of course, let her in."
Friends embraced briefly. Nathaniel handed the sealed letter to Sebastian, who bowed and departed.
— "Forgive me if I'm untimely."
— "Ophelia, you are never untimely — please, have a seat."
They were served lemon pastries and tea right in the Duke's study. Nathaniel treated Ophelia like a sister, and she was permitted to be in any room of the estate, even those considered private.
They exchanged a few questions; Ophelia shared some gossip, emphasizing she was not gossiping — she knew Nathaniel would not reveal a word. Then she declared:
— "As for our plan, I think it's time, Nathan. You won't believe it, but I've grown weary of this tedious routine as well. Just don't mock me! Rejoice, for I propose one last ball this season, where we shall announce the forthcoming wedding, and that will be that!"
Ophelia raised her hands in delight, watching the Duke expectantly.
Inside, everything sank. Why? Wasn't this exactly what he had wanted, sooner rather than later? But this ball… it was meant for someone else…
— "Nathan, I expected far less of a reaction! What is wrong?" Ophelia leaned closer, placing a hand gently on his knee.
The Duke gathered himself and forced a smile.
— "Forgive me… I suppose I've become so accustomed to the role of groom-to-be that I could not believe your words. Are you certain, Ophelia? That this outcome pleases you?"
Ophelia appeared shocked.
— "Nathan, please, don't torment me. What is the matter?"
The Duke struggled for words.
Forgive me, Ophelia, but I wished to dedicate this ball to him, not to us.
Out loud, however, he said:
— "I was truly shocked to hear our scheme was drawing to a close. I shall arrange the ball in two weeks' time. I hope you'll allow me to make it a bit more enjoyable."
— "What do you mean?"
— "Let it be a masquerade. A proper one, where no one may recognize anyone else."
Ophelia's eyes widened, then she burst into genuine laughter. Tears even shimmered at the corners of her eyes.
Nathaniel sat, utterly perplexed.
— "And this is so amusing because…?"
— "Forgive me, oh, Nathan, dear Nathan. Something tells me this is not your idea. You had planned the ball before my arrival, я уверена в этом," Ophelia laughed again.
Nathaniel flushed, realizing nothing could be hidden from her. Why not tell her everything? Why not share all his anxieties and fears? Who but Ophelia could understand him better than anyone in the world?
But he would disappoint her, make her worry. Ophelia was doing him a great favor, an honor. She could live the life of a quirky old spinster with Emily, and no one would mind слишком сильно. She did it for him. They did it for him. For his safety. If he were to make a mistake and ruin their plan, he would put them in danger they had never faced. He could not allow that.
Ophelia laughed and continued:
— "Very well. Masquerade it shall be. What a splendid idea! I would not want to announce our wedding at some dull event. Perfect! If we are to announce it at all, it will be at this upcoming ball…" She gave Nathaniel a pointed look.
— "Yes, Ophelia, I see no reason not to do so in two weeks' time."
Announcing the wedding at the end of the ball — would that make the event any less thrilling?
— "Splendid," Ophelia replied, smiling.
— "By the way, how fares your young friend? I haven't thought of him in so long," she asked with a giggle.
The Duke regarded her with a serious, weary look.
How much longer could this continue?
— "I believe he is well."
— "You believe?"
— "We have not seen each other recently, so I can only assume he is well. You, it seems, expected us to visit daily?"
— "Perhaps. Or perhaps I merely listen to what people say around us. And they do speak, Nathan."
A slight wave of anxiety washed over the Duke. Exhaustion, a profound, all-encompassing weariness — he was weary of everyone always talking about him. What could they possibly say about a solitary bachelor befriending a boy ten years his junior? Clearly nothing flattering. And it surely did no honor to the Carlston family. He was sure of it.
What a shame…
He sighed deeply, resting a hand on his brow. Lately, headaches had begun to trouble him — likely the result of accumulated fatigue.
— "Forgive me, Nathan. I did not wish to distress you. I am merely concerned for you."
— "It is nothing, Ophelia. I understand. This is the price of the life I live. I have no choice but to accept it as it is."
Ophelia embraced her friend. They sat in silence, each absorbed in their thoughts.
***
After a week of correspondence, Alex wrote that he was feeling better and could already walk. Unfortunately, it was impossible to hide this from his parents. He added that his father was eagerly awaiting the Duke's visit and that it would be wonderful if he could join them for breakfast the next morning. Nathaniel did just that.
— "Please, do come in. Sit with us," said Alex's father
They exchanged a few questions about the weather and other matters before turning to the topic of the races. Alex remained quiet.
— "Speaking of which," Lord Carlston said suddenly, "I confess I don't quite know how to continue discussing racing secrets with you, dear Duke — something tells me it was no coincidence my son injured his leg on a ride with you." Lord Carlston's sternness didn't last long, and he broke into a laugh almost at once.
Nathaniel laughed along, though at first a little tensely.
— "Father, how could you say such a thing?" Alex exclaimed irritably.
— "It's quite all right, Young Lord. Your father's suspicion is a fair one — given your skill as a rider, I suspect I'll have no hope of victory unless I resort to such underhanded means."
They resumed their discussion of horses. The Duke spoke of the horses he had seen during his travels and his observations of breeding practices. He felt a deep pleasure in spending time with the Carlston family, warmth and comfort he had long forgotten.
I hope I can preserve this…Ah, he is soon to marry — how could I forget? In that case, I must simply savor the moment.
At length, Lord Carlston excused himself on some business, leaving the two young men to themselves.
— "You don't have to speak with my father about horses if you find it tiresome," Alex said suddenly.
— "What do you mean, my lord?" the Duke replied. "On the contrary, it brings me great pleasure. It's a rare thing — to speak openly, one man to another, rather than cloaked in the titles we bear."
The Duke glanced at Alex. He smiled slightly at the response, then, with a tense expression, looked down at the ground, remaining silent.
Perhaps he meant to hint that I should not see his father so often?
— "I owe you an apology." Alex said, out of nowhere.
What?
The Duke looked at him, surprised.
— "I want to apologise for what I said during our last meeting, in my room. I didn't mean to… scold you. It was rude and ill-mannered of me, and I hope you don't hold it against me."
Why is he apologizing? For what? I am the one who should apologize.
— "My lord," the Duke said softly, "If I may, I will be honest with you again. First of all, I truly regret the prejudices I held when we first met. And even if those assumptions had been true — there is, and should be, nothing shameful in them. I will be glad to see you enjoying the upcoming ball and dances…"
Nathaniel quelled his inner voice with unusual force and pushed away all thoughts of that particular lady.
— "And when you said those things to me… I felt a kind of fear. A fear of being seen. Truly seen. It frightened me, that someone could look past everything I said and call out my flaws so directly. And after knowing me for only a few months. You have nothing to apologize for."
Nathaniel glanced at Alex, but the Young Lord still couldn't lift his eyes from his hands. He was clearly anxious, fidgeting with his fingers.
— "I thought a great deal about what you said and what I said to you. In my youth, I too was weighed down by expectations and assumptions — from society, from family... And yes, it wounded me deeply. So I understand why my own assumptions about your life may have struck you deeply in some way. I apologize unreservedly and ask for your forgiveness."
— "And now?"
— "Now?" the Duke repeated, unsure of what Alex meant.
— "You said those expectations used to wound you. Do they still?"
God, this boy…
— "They wound me far less than they once did."
For the first time during their conversation, Alex straightened and met the Duke's gaze.
— "So they still hurt?"
A pang struck Nathaniel's heart.
Why did he look at me with such care, such concern, such… pain?
He reached out and placed his hand gently over Alex's, resting on his knee.
— "There is nothing I cannot endure with the support of those I hold dear," he said. "And I am grateful — truly grateful — for your honesty and your friendship, Alex. I hope that one day, I might be such a support to you as well."
Nathaniel noticed how his beloved cheeks had flushed a gentle pink from such a sincere confession. Alex quickly looked away and suggested they continue walking, though it was already time for the Duke to return home.
The Duke sat in the carriage, his heart aflutter. He understood that soon it would all end. Alex would marry, he must marry, and they would have no more time for each other. Soon, he would leave with Ophelia and Emily on another journey, to escape prying eyes. There he might meet someone, and then it would happen again. And again. It had always been so.
Yet the sense of finality only heightened the Duke's gratitude and joy. He seemed to feel a quiet acceptance of fate. He simply rode, gazing out the carriage window with a smile, and felt a deep happiness, knowing that Alex had truly forgiven him at least.