Having sent Sam with the letter, the Duke reluctantly ate, trying to dull the side effects of the sleeping draught. He was tormented, restless, unable to find anything to occupy himself. His thoughts revolved around one thing only.
Work? Impossible. Call for Ophelia? Cruel in such weather. Carpentry? Every shaving of wood reminds of him.
Nathan didn't know where to put himself. He wandered into his bedroom but stopped suddenly at the chambers where Alex had stayed the night. Swallowing nervously, he stepped inside. With the memories of yesterday came flashes of them watching the sky, playing cards, and how Alex had playfully pounced on him, unwilling to lose.
The Duke sat down on the bed. Then lay down upon it. Just the thought that Alex had slept here made his heart race.
He clicked his tongue. His face was dark with turmoil. He wavered between shame, fear, and… desire. Nathan covered his face with his right hand, his left slipping downward.
I just need to calm myself a little.
His hand wrapped around himself, moving rapidly. A heavy sigh escaped his lips. In his mind, scenes of the previous night flickered: bitten, swollen lips, clouded gaze, flushed ears, pale neck, sharp collarbones, chest…
Another sigh. The last thing he wanted was to dishonor his beloved by secretly craving his presence and touch. But Nathan felt so wretched he drove those thoughts away.
"Alex…" he whispered softly, and release overtook him. For a minute his chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath. Shame stung him. He rose quickly, washed, and returned to his room. The release hadn't helped — he still felt as though sitting on needles, full of anxiety, fear, guilt, and longing.
But he resolved to restrain himself, to never again stoop so low.
He was so innocent… That must have been his first kiss… God…
He covered his face with both hands and collapsed onto the bed.
A knock.
What? How much time had passed?
He had fallen asleep.
It must be Sebastian.
— "Come in."
Sebastian entered, his face shifting in concern.
— "Your Grace, I…"
— "Sebastian, what is it?"
— "You have a visitor drenched to the bone. I ordered the fire lit and hot tea served, but you need…"
The Duke shot to his feet. Clapping Sebastian on the shoulder, he rushed downstairs. On the way, he caught sight of himself in a mirror — pale face, reddened eyes, hair in disarray. He tried at least to fix his hair before entering the room.
Forgetting all propriety, he burst in without knocking. His heart sank.
— "My dear Nathan, you look dreadful," said Ophelia, full of concern, rushing to embrace him. "Tell me everything. How do you feel? I want to help you so much. Were you expecting someone else? Forgive me — I can leave if you wish."
— "No, Ophelia, please sit," the Duke said automatically, sitting beside her. He was disheartened, yet ashamed of his initial disappointment. She was a kind friend, sincerely worried for him.
— "I think my state speaks for itself. There's little to tell."
— "Did you write to him?"
— "Yes. I asked him to name the time, day, and place of our meeting so we could talk."
— "He hasn't replied?"
— "No."
Hot tea was brought in.
— "Ginger, has Sam returned?"
— "He has, shall I call him?"
— "Yes, please."
— "Good evening, Your Grace, Lady Ophelia. Forgive me, there was no post for you. However, I saw the Carlstons' doctor rushing to their estate. Perhaps someone there fell ill. I'm sure you will have a reply soon."
The Duke's heart plummeted. He stared blankly through Sam.
— "Thank you, you may go," Ophelia said.
As soon as the door closed, she knelt before Nathan.
— "Nathan, why do you instantly assume something's happened to him? I'm sure everything is fine. We'll find out soon—please don't give in to dark thoughts!"
— "Ophelia, even if he's all right, what if it was Lady or Lord Carlston? He loves them so deeply — he'd be suffering regardless! And what if something truly happened to him after last night?"
— "Nathan, listen. At worst, it might be just a touch of fever from too many… emotions. He's a strong boy; he'll be fine. Dr. Burton is tough, but perhaps if I go to him with a… women's ailment, he might let slip what happened with young Lord Carlston."
— "Ophelia, don't be foolish — it's late."
— "It's nothing. Prepare my rooms — I'll stay here. I'll be back in two hours. Please rest."
— "Ophelia, you mustn't—"
— "I hear nothing. I'll return soon."
— "At least take a carriage. Don't you dare ride in this weather."
And with that, she left.
The next two hours were torture. Nathan's mind raced through every possible outcome of the physician's visit. He drove himself mad.
Finally, Ophelia returned. She entered and said at once:
— "You have nothing to worry about."
— "What of him, Ophelia?!" Nathan leapt up.
— "Everyone is fine, calm yourself. The doctor said the Young Lord was simply exhausted from the ball. He needs rest, nothing more."
The Duke felt real relief wash over him. He sank onto the couch.
— "But that doesn't change the obvious — he suffers. And he suffers because of me."
— "Nathan, it will be all right. I'm sure of it. I know he'll reply to you."
— "Thank you, my dear. If you hadn't come, I would've gone mad."
***
Another knock on the door. Dinner was brought to Alex. He hadn't touched lunch and had been lying on the bed, staring out the window for what must have been hours.
The rain tapped against the roof with relentless rhythm, each drop striking like a tolling bell, wearing on his nerves. If the weather had been kinder, he would have longed to escape outdoors, to take a ride and clear his thoughts. But trapped within four walls — it was unbearable.
After some time, his mother came in to bid him goodnight. And that was it. Time to lie down again. But Alex couldn't imagine how. He paced restlessly between the urge to break free into the night or… or what? He didn't know. But the truth is that he couldn't endure his room any longer.
At last, he decided. Dressing warmly, he pulled on a cloak and slipped out the window. The cornices were slick with rain, but he managed to climb down without a scrape. The last time he'd done this was ten years ago or so, and a flicker of pride warmed him that his body still remembered the skill.
He went to the stables. There, he approached Soul and began confiding in her as if she were an old friend.
— "My sweet Soul. I'm suffering. If only you could tell me what to do. I don't understand myself anymore. These past months, I've thought of the Duke every single day. You remember him, don't you? And… yesterday I told him so, and he…"
Alex faltered, ashamed to say the words aloud even to his beloved friend.
— "…and then he kissed me… and then again, and again… I—I never expected it. But most of all, I never expected that I would want it. Again and again…"
He turned his back to her, hiding his burning face.
— "Do you think I'm ill? That's what people say about men like him or… me. But if they feel even a fraction of this torment… I don't know how they manage to hold back. He sent me a letter, you know? He asks me to meet him. But what does he mean to say? Mother told me he is to be married. He never spoke of it to me. Perhaps he wanted to tell me yesterday, but I distracted him with my nonsense. Perhaps he only meant to comfort me. I don't know what to think. Do you think I'm foolish? And you, Waterlily?"
The horses whinnied in reply. Alex stroked Soul's muzzle again.
— "Thank you, for not thinking so. I lack courage. I'm afraid to meet him. I don't know what I'll say. I fear what he will say. I'm terrified… What should I do?"
Soul nudged him with her nose.
— "Easy, easy. Do you think so? But where?"
The mare straightened and stamped her hooves, impatient to move.
— "No, I can't."
Waterlily whinnied again.
— "It's beyond me…"
Alex turned to leave the stall, but the horse shoved him lightly in the back with her nose.
— "Ow—blast it! All right, we'll ride out. But not for long, you hear me?"
He saddled her and rode into the forest. He had no plan of where to go — Soul carried him of her own will. His mind spun with thoughts and memories, but the fresh, cool air soothed him, easing the ache in his head.
Suddenly, mare stopped at a stream — the same place where Alex had once twisted his ankle. He recognized it at once. The memory came rushing back: the Duke kneeling to examine his foot, then carrying him in his arms. That same familiar shiver coursed through him.
— "Soul, is this truly your advice?"
The mare lifted her head from the stream and waited, still as a statue, for master's command.
Alex shut his eyes, tightened the reins, and urged Soul forward into a gallop.