The Duke's heart was heavy because of the conversation. He could feel, almost as if through his own skin, that Alex was deeply unsettled; and the lords' coarse remarks did nothing but rub salt into the wound. Their idle chatter dragged on, thick with the fumes of wine. As host, Nathan played his part with practiced civility, while Ophelia — gracious as ever — came to his aid.
Thank you, dearest, for your charm and deftness with society. I might have lost patience and spoken rashly long ago.
Suddenly, one of the lords lost all shame:
— "If I may be so bold, Your Grace, you mustn't keep delaying. It's high time you married the lovely Lady Ophelia and ceased deceiving the public. Everyone in this room has seen how warmly you look at each other. Do you agree with me, Young Lord?"
The Duke was momentarily taken aback, unprepared for such a forward suggestion. Even Ophelia faltered, though only for an instant. Recovering himself, Nathan summoned a courteous smile and replied with practiced composure:
— "You're right, of course. Lady Ophelia would make the best companion." and then he smiled warmly at her.
It was then he caught sight of Alex, bowing silently before slipping toward the exit. The lords prattled on, heedless, but Nathan's eyes remained fixed upon that retreating figure until it vanished into the adjoining corridor.
Anxiety surged through him—he couldn't just stand by while Alex was clearly upset by his foolish remark.
— "I beg your pardon. As host of the ball, it falls upon me to see that every guest is at ease," Nathan excused himself smoothly. His eyes met Ophelia's; she nodded slightly, concern softening her expression, and skillfully engaged the older lords in fresh conversation.
The Duke slipped away. With a steady hand, he removed his mask and pushed open the door Alex had passed through only moments before.
There, by the tall window, stood Alex. His hat, wig, and mask lay discarded upon the floor in careless abandon. He leaned against the sill, shoulders trembling, his head bowed as though the weight of the evening had crushed him.
— "Alex!" exclaimed the Duke, closing the door behind him.
The Young Lord turned, and Nathan's heart tightened at the sight. Alex looked unbearably pained, tears welling in his eyes. Without a second thought, the Duke stepped forward, wishing to enfold Alex in a protective embrace, yet restraint held him back. Instead, he rested his hands lightly on Alex's forearms.
The Duke's heart raced wildly. He felt his friend's pain as if it were his own; every shudder, every escaping tear sent jolts through him, leaving Nathan desperate to offer comfort, yet unsure how to reach him without overwhelming. He cupped Alex's cheek, the warmth of the tears on his fingertips stirring a fierce mix of worry and agitation. The Duke gently lifted his face, struggling to bear the sight of such suffering etched onto the features of the one he cherished. Nathan felt utterly helpless, like a child unsure how to calm the storm of another's sorrow.
It's certainly my fault!
— "Alex, what is the matter? Is it your ankle? You must have injured it dancing. There has been too little time, I should have been more decisive and found another excuse for Ophelia, she doesn't know. And those wretched lords, damn them! Alex, I…"
Suddenly, the Young Lord pushed Nathan's hands away from his face and hunched over, lightly striking his friend's chest with trembling fists. Startled, the Duke instinctively drew back slightly, yet he could not let go of the Young Lord, so he held him more firmly, drawing Alex closer, even as the boy pressed his hands in a humble protest.
Staring at the floor, Alex began to speak in ragged, frantic bursts, each word torn from him as though he were barely in control of himself:
— "I can't do this anymore, it's too much! I am certainly ill, I don't know what's wrong with me. I've lost control, I don't know who I am, I understand nothing. It's beyond me. The moment you came into my life, I lost my sanity! My world turned upside down! When I am alone, I don't sleep or eat, I quarrel with my mother, I become irritable and suspicious! I hate this! You have poisoned my mind!"
The Duke felt as if the ground were slipping from beneath his feet. Tears brimmed in his eyes. It seemed to him that Alex was holding him accountable for all the faults Nathan had long blamed himself for. He had tried so desperately to be a true friend, to shield Alex from the consequences of his own selfish desires, yet it seemed he had utterly failed — not only destroying their friendship entirely, but also causing pain to the one he held most dear.
Alex straightened slightly from his hunched posture, lifting his face to meet the Duke's. Tears glistened in the boy's eyes, his cheeks flushed, lips swollen from biting down to suppress his torment. Every second of this sight seemed to drag Nathan deeper into a whirlpool of abyss.
The Duke summoned all his will to let every word Alex might utter strike him like the lash of a whip. With each statement, a thought raced through his mind faster than lightning.
Looking straight into Nathan's eyes, Alex continued:
— "You are the first thing I think of when I wake, and the last thing that visits me before sleep."
What?
— "I close my eyes and see your ridiculous beautiful face, but I never asked for this! I try desperately, but cannot think of anyone else!"
I-I do too…
— "I'm like a dog, eager for every opportunity to see your foolish beautiful face in person!"
I want to see your face every day too!...
— "And I am sick of every lady at every ball, I am so tired of these games and plays, I feel pain whenever I see you with them!"
I'm so worn out as well! Might that be?...
— "I thought I loved them, but I hate each and every one of them! I'm tired of this pain! I don't know what's happening to me! I…"
I know!
The glass overflowed.
Nathan drew back just a fraction of a second, then crashed his lips against Alex's in a desperate, fiery kiss. He clutched him tightly, one hand threading through the Young Lord's wheat-colored hair, the other drawing boy's waist flush against his own.
No thought remained in his mind — only complete stillness, every part of his being consumed by the moment he longed for so desperately and hopelessly.
The Duke broke the kiss briefly, leaning back just enough to gauge Alex's reaction, to convince himself this was not a dream, to see if this desperate act had not been the final straw, driving Alex to hatred toward him for eternity.
Nathan had never seen the boy like this. His crystal-clear eyes were wide, yet slightly unfocused, as if in a haze, pupils darting aimlessly. His lips were moist and parted, greedily drawing in air. There were no traces of disgust or regret — the very things the Duke had so dreadfully feared. Suddenly, Alex's body softened slightly, and Nathan tensed his own muscles to keep the boy upright.
Without a word, the Duke surged forward, claiming Alex's lips with another desperate, urgent kiss, as if without it the very fantasy he had longed for would vanish into thin air. He pressed the Young Lord against the wall, steadying the trembling boy, and let the heat of their closeness consume them both.
Every bit of Nathan's body burned with need; the intensity of the moment threatened to overwhelm him completely. And Alex — he did not resist. His tongue remained still, surrendering wholly to Nathan's fervent, unrelenting advance.
Then, with a sudden, trembling hand, Alex clutched at the Duke's shirt on his back and drew him closer, pressing their bodies together with a force that stole Nathan's breath and tightened his chest. His pulse thundered, and the Duke balanced precariously on the verge of losing every shred of control. The fevered kiss consumed them utterly, fusing them into one trembling, desperate whole, as if nothing else could ever feel so right.
The Duke broke the kiss for air, yet Alex's eyes remained closed. Unable to restrain himself even for a second, Nathan pressed a tender kiss to his cheek, then lowered his lips to the heated curve of his neck, trailing soft caresses over the sensitive skin while one hand cradled the Young Lord's head and the other anchored him by the waist.
"Ah—"
Alex, having long surrendered all self-control, let out a sound that startled them both — an unrestrained moan of pleasure that echoed through the half-empty corridor. Shame and fear flickered in his eyes as he dared a glance at Nathan, anxiety seizing him so fiercely it seemed he might bolt at any moment.
Nathan, equally breathless and shaken by that intoxicating sound, seized Alex's hand and hurried him into the nearest room that caught his sight. He pressed the Young Lord gently forward into the shadowed study and hastily closed the door behind them.