Chapter 21

Tea party etiquette… social discourse… conversational tactics… Ah, there is absolutely nothing of use here.

The night before the gathering at the Finch estate, Elwin paced the grand library of the manor, desperately attempting to cram a lifetime of aristocratic grace into a few hours. Yet, the towering shelves of the family’s historic library yielded nothing but dry, academic texts like A Study on the Effects of Black Tea on the Nervous System.

My nervous system is not the issue here; the social elite are!

Heaving a weary sigh, Elwin slid the useless volume back onto the shelf. Was he truly reduced to relying solely on Social Etiquette for Beginner Gentlemen, a book he had already memorized until the pages were worn thin?

As he stood lost in despair, the heavy oak door creaked open. Soft footsteps broke the late-night silence. Even without turning, Elwin knew exactly who had entered.

“Our paths cross yet again,” Elwin murmured.

“Fascinating, isn’t it? I was just thinking the same,” Leon replied.

Though Elwin had granted all his houseguests free rein of the estate, Leon was the only one he consistently encountered in the dead of night—not just here, but in various quiet corners of the manor.

“Tell me, do you make a habit of prowling through unfamiliar estates in the midnight hours?”

Leon shrugged, casting a lazy glance toward the corridor window. “Who can say? Perhaps I am not the only restless soul wandering these halls.”

Elwin frowned, wondering if the man was implying the manor was haunted, or if there was a deeper meaning to his words.

“Is that book the young lord’s pony?” Leon asked, pointing a finger at the worn etiquette guide in Elwin’s hand.

As usual, the man’s razor-sharp intuition had instantly pierced Elwin’s plight.

“Tell me, do you find yourself in need of a pony before tomorrow’s battle?”

Elwin resisted the urge to critique Leon’s slightly awkward pronunciation of the slang. It was clear the man had only recently acquired the term and was eager to brandish it.

But Elwin was in no position to argue. Just as before, he had fled to the library in a panic, found nothing of use, and run straight into Leon. In truth, this enigmatic guest had become Elwin’s personal crib sheet.

But he seemed so thoroughly displeased with me.

Over the past few days, whenever Elwin had forced himself to flatter Dwight, Leon’s face had tightened with barely suppressed irritation. Elwin knew his obsequiousness must have looked pathetic.

Yet his anxiety over the tea party wasn’t merely about currying favor with Dwight. Tomorrow would be a battlefield, and Elwin could not afford to give his detractors any ammunition. He knew the theory of etiquette perfectly, but the unspoken social codes remained a mystery. He needed an edge.

“I have never attended a function of this nature,” Elwin admitted quietly, his blue eyes pleading. He braced himself, half-expecting Leon to mock his ignorance and leave, but the man merely smiled.

“And what manner of assistance do you require?”

To Elwin’s relief, Leon’s tone was remarkably gentle. Elwin brightened instantly.

“I must master the flow of aristocratic conversation. I cannot afford a single misstep tomorrow.”

“You wish to learn high society decorum from me?” Leon asked, his brow arching as he gestured to his attire.

He was clad in nothing but a loose night robe and a jacket thrown over his bare chest, looking every bit the roguish rake. Elwin faltered at the sight, but his resolve held. There was no one else to ask, and truth be told, he wanted Leon’s help specifically.

“You are… highly articulate, at the very least.”

“Is that so? I was under the impression the young lord found my words entirely vexing.”

Elwin’s face betrayed his thoughts instantly, prompting a silent, suppressed chuckle from Leon.

“You may appear somewhat rakish, Mr. Leon,” Elwin rushed to explain, “but you carry yourself with impeccable courtesy. You annoy me occasionally, yes, but… I genuinely enjoy our conversations.”

It was the absolute truth, completely devoid of the flattery he had been practicing on Dwight. Reflecting on their time together—whether propagating seedlings in the greenhouse or playing cards—Elwin had always found himself at ease in Leon’s company.

Leon fell silent, studying Elwin. Beneath the amber glow of the oil lamp, his golden eyes softened with an unmistakable, quiet warmth. It was a look Elwin had seen once before, back in the farming village when Leon had watched him speak with the local children—a look that felt dangerously close to affection.

“Sir Elwin, you truly are…”

“An intriguing nobleman?” Elwin finished, echoing the man’s past words.

Leon burst into a rich, melodic laugh, entirely free of mockery. The sound dispelled the last of Elwin’s tension. He was accustomed to being praised for his face or his intellect, but being called ‘intriguing’ was a novel, delightful experience.

“Indeed,” Leon agreed, pulling up a chair at the library table. “To me, you are endlessly fascinating. Personally, I believe your wit requires no further sharpening. Sit. Let us see what we can do.”

Elwin eagerly took his seat, though he cleared his throat and primly pointed at the guest’s chest. “Mr. Leon, your robe.”

“Ah. Forgive me.”

With an amused smirk, Leon pulled the collar of his robe together. As their eyes locked, Elwin found himself smiling broadly.

His heart felt remarkably, inexplicably light. It was perhaps highly irregular to feel this safe in the dead of night, sitting inches away from a half-dressed Alpha, but Elwin found he did not mind in the slightest.

***