Chapter 19

By the following morning, a lively hum of preparation filled the estate.

Out in the courtyard, the baron’s carriage stood alongside the count’s own, their polished panels gleaming in the soft light as the four guests emerged from the entrance hall, fully equipped for the day’s excursion.

Selena, ever the buoyant spirit, practically quivered with anticipation over the rare outing. Even Dwight, typically wrapped in a cold, sullen shroud, displayed a noticeably lighter humor. Perhaps Elwin’s tireless efforts had finally begun to chip away at his frosty exterior.

During the previous evening’s dinner, Elwin had spared no effort in stroking Dwight’s ego. Near the end of the meal, he had strategically produced the very bottle of whisky the man had been nursing in solitude earlier that day. The instant the bottle caught Dwight’s eye, he had poured a generous measure, taking a slow, appreciative draw—prompting Elwin to laud even that self-indulgent display.

— “That whisky is a rare vintage Father secured while traveling through the northern territories,” Elwin had chimed, his tone dripping with practiced warmth. “I understand it originates from a distillery supplying the royal household itself. It seems a distinguished gentleman truly possesses the refinement to recognize an exceptional spirit.”

— “…Is it truly so exceptional?” Selena had interjected, her curiosity piqued by the mention of a royal warrant. “May I try a sip as well?”

Yet a single taste was enough to make her features contort in absolute revulsion.

— “What on earth is this? It tastes of water steeped in soot.”

Having been matured in heavily charred oak casks, the spirit did indeed carry an intense, smoky profile, rendering her critique somewhat accurate. Nevertheless, Dwight, his cheeks already flushed with alcohol, cast a condescending sneer in her direction.

— “Predictably, the complex bouquet of a fine whisky remains far too elusive for a woman’s palate.”

— “And what, pray tell, is that supposed to mean, Lord Dwight?” Selena shot back, her lips puckering into a pout. “Physiologically, women possess far more acute senses of smell than men.”

— “If the deficiency lies not in your nose, then it must reside in your vulgar taste.”

Stung by the insult to her refinement, Selena snatched the bottle, inspecting its label from every conceivable angle to dispute his claim.

— “The royal family would never deign to drink such a draught. Something must be amiss. Mr. Leon, do you recognize this?”

— “If the seal reads Royal Lochnagar, then it does indeed hail from a purveyor to the crown,” Leon replied, his amber eyes shifting from the tag at the bottle’s neck to the guests. “However, Lord Dwight, if you indulge further, will it not compromise tomorrow’s itinerary?”

Dwight, reaching to reclaim the bottle Selena had set down, clicked his tongue in sharp irritation at the unwelcome restraint.

— “I highly doubt this trivial volume could affect me,” he muttered, his slurred speech betraying his boast. He had been imbibing since midday.

Sensing the rising tension, Elwin smoothly retrieved the bottle from the table.

— “The carriage paths to the township are notoriously uneven,” Elwin interjected softly. “I believe moderation would serve us best today. Rest assured, I shall reserve this entire bottle for your private enjoyment later, Lord Dwight.”

At the promise of exclusive access to the liquor, the corner of Dwight’s mouth twitched upward. When he looked across the table at Elwin, his gaze held a distinct warmth that had been entirely absent before. Elwin inwardly celebrated; he had finally cracked the code to managing this difficult man.

Yet as Elwin turned to store the bottle, his satisfaction withered under Leon’s piercing gaze. In stark contrast to Dwight’s bloated approval, Leon looked utterly incredulous, his amber eyes promising that he would watch exactly how low Elwin was willing to stoop.

Very well. If I must play the sycophant, I might as well become the most magnificent flatterer this world has ever seen.

Ignoring the silent judgment, Elwin remained entirely committed to his performance. Just before they set off, he approached Dwight, hands clasped with the fawning grace of a scheming courtier, and offered a low bow.

“Lord Dwight, it is my absolute honor to escort you into town today. We have prepared the carriage and horses with the utmost care, but pray tell, is there anything lacking?”

Thanks to Elwin’s meticulous directives, the baron’s carriage shone with a fresh polish, and the horses stood immaculate, their coats groomed and hooves neatly dressed. Dwight swept an arrogant gaze over the equipage and offered a curt nod.

“It is satisfactory. Thank you. Since the journey is rather long, I suggest we divide ourselves between the carriages—two to each. I recall the ride being dreadfully cramped when the three of us, including Mr. Leon, shared a carriage on the way here. Miss Selena, come this way.”

Dwight jerked his chin toward her and stepped into the baron’s carriage.

Left unexpectedly to ride alone with Leon, Elwin went rigid. Leon, sporting a faint, mocking smile that practically screamed serves you right, offered a mock-solemn salute.

“It is my distinct honor to escort the young master of the count’s house into town.”

It was a direct mockery of the very line Elwin had just used to flatter Dwight. Suppressing the bitter taste rising in his throat, Elwin followed the rogue into the carriage.

For the second consecutive day, they found themselves confined together. Leon had been baiting him even before they boarded, and once seated opposite the Omega, he continued to study Elwin with those inscrutable amber eyes.

“What is it you are staring at so intently?” Elwin demanded, his voice laced with irritation.

“I am merely harboring concerns over whether this outing will reach a peaceful conclusion.”

“…That sounds remarkably as though you are praying for some manner of disaster. Am I mistaken?”

At Elwin’s prickly retort, Leon merely chuckled, thoroughly amused.

“Given the young lord’s stellar reputation, I imagine the local merchants hold the count’s young master in exceptionally high regard. If someone should weep at the prospect of parting with you, I do wonder how Lord Dwight’s fragile temper will fare.”

Though phrased as a compliment to Elwin’s popularity, the sarcasm dripping from his words was unmistakable. Worse still, it was a highly logical concern, which made it infuriatingly difficult to dismiss.

Fortunately, Elwin had already planned for such a contingency. The moment the excursion had been decided, he had dispatched Toby to the commercial district to instruct the merchants. Today, even if they recognized Elwin, they were to suppress their affection and treat Dwight as their true, esteemed lord.

“You need not trouble yourself with such worries,” Elwin replied coolly.

Leon blinked, momentarily taken aback by his confidence.

As the carriage cleared the winding mountain pass and halted in the bustling market square, Elwin stepped out like lightning, eagerly guiding Dwight toward the shops.

The excursion proceeded with surprising fluidity. It happened to be market day, lending the streets an uncommonly vibrant, festive atmosphere. It was a slight disappointment that Elwin could not linger by the antiquarian bookshop, which seemed to have just received a fresh shipment of manuscripts; Dwight was already stifling a yawn, and Selena was clearly itching to escape to the adjacent millinery. Suppressing his own desires, Elwin focused entirely on his duties as host.

“Oh, my! C-could it truly be! The new lord! What an incredibly splendid gentleman you are!”

The sole flaw in Elwin’s master plan was that the merchants were utterly atrocious actors. At every storefront they visited, the proprietors recited virtually identical lines in agonizingly wooden, forced tones. Each time, Elwin fought to mask his mortification, casting frantic glances at Dwight. Yet to his immense relief, the Alpha seemed entirely blinded by the theatrical flattery, absorbing the warm welcome with smug satisfaction.

Leon, however, lingered just behind Dwight’s shoulder, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. The moment their eyes met, he even threw Elwin a mocking wink that clearly said, My, you certainly worked hard on this performance.

Regardless of Leon’s grating presence, the outing was proving a success. Once they had completed their circuit of the market, Elwin delivered his next prepared line.

“You must all be quite exhausted. Shall we retire to the tea room for some refreshment?”

Fortunately, Dwight nodded in agreement. Elwin had already coordinated with the owner of the central tea room to greet them warmly and present them with the finest window-side table.

A pleasant stroll followed by a warm cup of tea—it was a flawless itinerary. Surely Dwight would look favorably upon his capability now.

“Ah, y-you have arrived.”

Yet as they crossed the threshold, the proprietor looked visibly anxious, casting a worried look toward Elwin. A cold spike of dread shot through Elwin’s chest, but before he could intervene, Dwight strode past him and claimed the window table.

With no graceful way to retreat, Elwin maintained his composure and ordered the service. When the porcelain teapot and delicate pastries arrived, Elwin rose, lifting the pot with a bright, welcoming smile.

“Lord Dwight, allow me to pour for you. How many lumps of sugar do you prefer?”

It was an offering of goodwill made with every ounce of Elwin’s remaining strength. Dwight’s lips curved into a rare, pleased line.

“…Two. Thank you.”

Just as Elwin breathed a silent sigh of relief, placing the saucer gently before the Alpha, a sharp, clicking sound echoed.

Tap, tap.

Frivolous, hurried footsteps approached, accompanied by an agonizingly familiar, grating voice.

“Well, now. Look who we have here. If it isn’t the noble Sir Elwin.”