Chapter 7

“Thank you. You have saved me from a dreadful fate,” Dwight murmured, a rare, genuine smile brushing his lips as he accepted the offering.

That subtle expression of gratitude only stoked the embers of Elwin’s rising irritation. Just then, Selena erupted into a melodic peal of laughter, clearly finding the entire display of chivalry immensely entertaining.

“You must carry a veritable treasury of linens on your person, Mr. Leon,” she teased, her eyes dancing. “You conjured one with identical lightning speed the last time we spoke.”

Exactly so! Elwin agreed silently, his jaw tightening.

Leon offered a playful grin, deliberately slipping a hand into the inner breast pocket of his coat as if preparing to unveil another. “But of course. Should the need ever arise, Miss Selena, I possess an endless supply to place at your feet.”

“My goodness, I must graciously decline such charming provocations.”

Selena parried the jest with practiced elegance before narrowing her gaze and angling toward Elwin.

“More to the point, regarding the handkerchief Mr. Leon lent Sir Elwin yesterday,” she mused, tapping a thoughtful finger against her chin. “I do wonder what fragrance Sir Elwin chose to scent it with before returning it to its owner.”

Elwin blinked. “…Scent?”

“Why, yes! Surely you know that when one borrows a gentleman’s handkerchief, etiquette dictates that it be meticulously laundered, lightly kissed with perfume, and only then returned to his hand.”

She delivered the lesson as though it were the most elementary facet of breeding, leaving Elwin thoroughly discomfited. He had memorized Social Etiquette from cover to cover, yet the exhaustive tome had made absolutely no mention of perfuming linens.

In truth, returning a scented handkerchief was not a rigid dictate of general society, but rather an unspoken, intimate shorthand shared between lovers drifting through a rosy, romantic current—which perfectly explained its absence from any standard volume of decorum.

As Elwin stood paralyzed by his own ignorance, Selena cast him a highly amused, mischievous look, while Leon’s trembling shoulders betrayed how desperately he was suppressing his laughter.

Throughout their exchange, Dwight remained entirely detached from the banter, focusing his attention solely on scraping a stubborn smear of mud from the leather of his boot. His brow remained knitted in sharp, sour irritation. Having finally eradicated the blemish, he clicked his tongue with palpable revulsion, let loose a heavy sigh, and casually flung the ruined silk back at Leon.

“I made good use of it.”

Instantly, the atmosphere chilled, freezing the breath in Elwin’s throat.

How else could one describe such an arrogant display? It lacked any semblance of returning a borrowed item; rather, it mirrored the careless tossing of refuse.

Granted, the aristocracy boasted plenty of haughty personalities, and many treated their domestic staff with similar disdain. But Leon was no servant—he was Dwight’s academic peer. Was it truly acceptable to treat a classmate with such flagrant contempt?

Now that he considered the matter, the dynamic between the two had never resembled a standard camaraderie. During dinner the previous evening, Dwight had consistently ignored Leon’s contributions or severed them entirely with curt, dismissive rebuttals.

Yet on each occasion, Leon had betrayed no hint of embarrassment, seamlessly pivoting the conversation or offering a pleasant, deferential agreement as if nothing were amiss. Because of that fluid evasion, Elwin had simply assumed Leon possessed a natural talent for placating a difficult companion, failing to recognize that Dwight was actively looking down on him.

Such behavior is entirely ungentlemanly.

A faint crease marred Elwin’s brow. Dwight, however, remained blissfully unconcerned, staring intently at the tip of his boot as though nothing else in the world merited his attention.

Who, truly, was this man? The question loomed before him, heavy and unbidden. Until now, Elwin had avoided contemplating what it would mean to bind himself in marriage to a near stranger. Now, a cold, insidious dread began to coil in his chest.

Perhaps he is merely out of sorts because of the journey, he reasoned, desperate to salvage his impression of his betrothed.

Forcing down his unease, Elwin turned his gaze toward Leon, half-expecting the man to be burning with silent humiliation.

Yet Leon’s countenance defied all expectations. The warm amber eyes, which had danced with playful mockery just moments before, now harbored a glint as razor-sharp as an unsheathed blade, even as a single corner of his mouth remained curled in a mocking tilt.

When he bent to retrieve the fallen handkerchief and raised his head once more, even that fleeting edge had vanished, replaced by his usual breezy, impenetrable mask.

“I am honored it served you well, Lord Dwight,” Leon murmured, offering a polite nod with flawless composure. Rather than appearing servile, he seemed astonishingly, dangerously at ease.

Witnessing these unfamiliar facets of both men left Elwin profoundly unsettled. Eager to escape the mounting tension, he hastily sought a distraction.

“I—I shall return your own handkerchief very soon as well, Mr. Leon. Now, if we have concluded our inspection of the conservatory, perhaps you would care to tour the manor’s library?”

Dwight instantly strode out of the glass structure at the suggestion. He stamped his feet irritably as he departed, far more eager to flee the muddy floor than to inspect a collection of volumes.

As Elwin guided them toward the library, his mind still spinning with confusion, Leon’s long, easy strides brought him directly alongside. Feeling a sudden pang of sympathy for what had transpired, Elwin lowered his voice.

“Mr. Leon. Are you quite all right?”

“Me? But of course.”

Leon truly appeared entirely unaffected. With a brilliant smile, he gestured toward the sweeping windows of the first floor.

“Is that the library?”

Occupying the vast expanse where a traditional ballroom would normally sit in an aristocratic estate, the chamber was heavily draped with thick velvet curtains to shield the contents from the sun. This grand repository was the crowning jewel of the Hetherton household.

“Yes. It is our greatest pride.”

Elwin’s late father, a bibliophile of matching intensity, had once remodeled the grand ballroom into a sprawling laboratory. During Elwin’s infancy, however, a volatile chemical experiment had gone spectacularly awry, culminating in an explosion that rocked the entire estate. The legendary fury of Elwin’s mother had echoed through the halls, and his chastised father had swiftly dismantled the laboratory, restoring the space as a sanctuary for books.

Consequently, the count’s library boasted a ceiling far loftier and an expanse far wider than most private collections. Towering shelves carved of dark walnut lined the walls, while plush velvet sofas and reading tables were nestled among the aisles, inviting visitors to lose themselves in their chosen volumes.

Indeed, the collection amassed by father and son was magnificent enough to rival any public academy, housing ancient, hand-bound manuscripts, monumental literary masterworks, and cutting-edge scientific treatises.

Since his earliest childhood steps, Elwin had lived within these stacks. His parents had spent hours reading fairy tales to him from their laps, and when he grew old enough to seclude himself here to study, they would quietly send in trays of sweet pastries.

To Elwin, this room was a sacred vault of memories. The bitter realization that it would likely be dismantled and restored to a hollow ballroom once a new master took possession of the house pricked his heart.

He had hoped to present the library to Dwight to curry favor, but even if the Alpha failed to warm to him, Elwin desperately wished the man would respect the collection. Surely, anyone who possessed a soul would fall in love with these shelves.

“This is our library. For the duration of your stay with the Hetherton household, Mr. Dw—ah, hum.” Elwin caught himself before the name slipped past his lips, clearing his throat quickly. “All of our guests are welcome to frequent this chamber as they please, and may borrow any volume that catches their eye.”

His chest swelled with quiet pride as he pushed open the heavy, brass-fitted doors. He had desperately wished to say, Mr. Dwight may frequent this room as he pleases, but fearing it would appear far too forward, he had swiftly generalized the invitation.

Selena glided into the room with obvious delight, her gaze darting eagerly over the gilded spines. To Elwin’s surprise, Leon paused before the natural philosophy texts. Watching him linger there, Elwin could not suppress a cynical thought.

Does he even comprehend the words on those pages? No doubt he is merely drawn to the gold leaf on the binding.

The volume Leon inspected was a dense collection of philosophical discourses penned by a highly revered scholar who had once tutored the royal family. Concluding that such a text was far too dry for a superficial dandy, Elwin turned his attention back to Dwight.

To his dismay, Dwight stood rigidly near the entrance with his arms crossed, showing no inclination to step forward. The eyes Elwin had expected to ignite with intellectual curiosity remained utterly cold and indifferent. Flustered once more, Elwin scrambled to find a polite justification.

He must be holding back out of propriety.

While guests were routinely welcome in drawing rooms, wandering unguided through a host’s private library was often deemed intrusive. Offering a warm, reassuring smile, Elwin stepped closer.

“Please do not hesitate, Mr. Dwight. Step inside and explore as you wish. Or perhaps you might select a volume to enjoy this afternoon?”

“Oh, truly?”

Selena seized upon the offer, though it had been directed entirely at Dwight. She hurried toward a corner shelf and pulled down a gilded set of opera librettos—a collection Elwin had not even realized his father owned. It was a rather frivolous, theatrical choice for a lady of her standing.

Nearby, Leon slid the very volume of philosophical discourses from its shelf. Elwin was still silently scoffing at the man’s pretension when a soft knock rattled the mahogany door, and a welcome figure crossed the threshold. Elwin’s face lit up instantly.

“Eleanor!”

The person he cherished most in the world had arrived.

His younger sister, Eleanor, was thirteen this year—a darling girl with a crown of golden curls and freckles dusting her round cheeks. She trotted into the room, moving swiftly to anchor herself at her brother’s side.

“Eleanor, do greet our guests.”

At Elwin’s gentle prompting, Eleanor gathered the skirts of her day dress, curtsied politely, and bowed her head. Overflowing with brotherly affection, Elwin introduced her with a beaming smile.

“This is my younger sister, Eleanor Margaret Hetherton. Because of the late hour of your arrival yesterday, she was unable to pay her respects.” He turned to the others. “Eleanor, this gentleman is Mr. Dwight, this lady is Miss Selena, and this is—”

“Pleasure to meet you, Lady Eleanor. I am Leon.”

Before Elwin could complete the introduction, Leon stepped forward with seamless charm, offering the young girl a dazzling smile. A sudden spike of alarm shot through Elwin; terrified that this notorious rake might exert his seductive influence on his innocent sister, Elwin instantly shifted his weight, physically interposing himself between them.

Fortunately, Eleanor’s attention was captured entirely by the elegant lady rather than the handsome rogue. Her eyes sparkled as she stared at Selena; having lost her mother in infancy, she held a natural, quiet reverence for poised, older women.

“Eleanor, whatever brings you to the library? Have you come to select a book?” Elwin tilted his head. “Should your tutor not be arriving shortly?”

“That is not it, Brother. I simply wished to greet our visitors.”

Though she answered him dutifully, her gaze kept drifting back to Selena. The young lady, seemingly charmed by the child’s presence, approached with light, curious steps.

“Goodness, does your sweet sister study under a governess? How delightful! Pray, what subjects do you pursue? Needlework? The recitation of poetry?” Selena’s eyes shone with curiosity. “I noticed the grand pianoforte in the drawing room. Do tell me there is a harp tucked away somewhere in this lovely manor as well?”

She bubbled with enthusiastic questions, but before Elwin could formulate a response, a sharp voice cut through the air from the back of the room.

“Selena.”

The single name fell like a whip crack. Dwight’s expression was ice, and a quiet, irritated click of his tongue escaped his thin lips. Selena stiffened instantly, her vibrant energy vanishing as she bowed her head toward Elwin in deep mortification.

“Forgive me, Sir Elwin. I spoke out of turn. That was highly improper of me, was it not?”

“Ah, not at all. Please, do not distress yourself.”

Elwin had found her lively chatter refreshing rather than offensive, yet Dwight’s face remained frozen in a scowl, dragging a heavy, suffocating silence over the library.

Should I have intervened sooner, before his temper flared? Elwin wondered anxiously.

As the host, he felt a profound responsibility to mend the fractured atmosphere. Moreover, his young sister had visibly shrunk back, intimidated by Dwight’s harshness.

Though he had shielded Eleanor from the grim particulars of his impending marriage alliance, the girl seemed to sense the immense gravity of keeping the cold heir pleased.

“Perhaps we might adjourn to the drawing room? We could…”

Elwin faltered, searching for an elegant escape, when Leon stepped forward with an easy, disarming smile.

“If it is not too much to ask, perhaps Lady Eleanor might honor us with a piece on the piano before her tutor arrives?”

Though Elwin found Leon’s constant interference grating, he had to admit the suggestion was inspired. Eleanor looked positively angelic at the keys, and music would surely dispel this dreadful chill.

Secretly thrilled, Eleanor blushed furiously, casting a pleading, hopeful look toward her brother. Raised in a quiet estate that rarely saw visitors, she had clearly yearned for an audience to appreciate her hard work.

“Would you play for us, Eleanor?” Elwin asked gently. “Come, then, let us show our guests the way.”

They migrated to the drawing room, where Eleanor performed a brief, charming character piece. Upon finishing to polite applause, she looked up shyly, begging Elwin to join her for a duet. Though surprised, Elwin sat beside her on the bench, and together their fingers danced across the keys.

Having studied under the same instructors since childhood, their shared rhythm was flawless, the melody rising through the room in perfect, joyous harmony.

Music worked its quiet magic, shifting the dark mood. Selena, her spirits restored, clapped enthusiastically with a glowing face, while Eleanor’s blue eyes sparkled with pride.

Even Leon applauded with genuine, respectful focus—an unexpectedly polite gesture that Elwin chose to ignore as he kept his eyes trained on his true quarry.

He had agreed to the duet not only to support his sister, but to showcase his own refinement.

Among the nobility, musical prowess was highly esteemed. According to the old butler, Alfred, when Elwin’s mother had played in the grand salons of the capital prior to her marriage, her performances had inspired countless suitors to lay their fortunes at her feet.

Would such a display move him?

Elwin stole a nervous glance at Dwight, holding his breath as he waited for some sign of approval.

Yet the response was utterly hollow. Seated by the window, Dwight clapped with mechanical, lifeless precision, his handsome face completely devoid of warmth or interest.

Elwin recognized that vacant stare. Unlike Elwin and his mother, his late father had possessed no love for the arts. When dragged to traveling operas in his youth, his father had worn that exact expression of polite, agonizing boredom.

Clearly, Dwight cared nothing for music. Between his empty hands in the library and his indifference now, it seemed neither books nor song could touch his heart. Elwin felt as though he were staring at an impenetrable cipher.

What… does Mr. Dwight actually like?

***