Chapter 37

“Mr. Frederick,” Elwin muttered.

“And yet, parading around in that ridiculous garb, you still slither about, hoping to catch the new count’s eye,” Frederick sneered. “I must commend your sheer audacity, if nothing else.”

The words were crude, drenched in malice. Elwin hesitated, debating how to respond. Frederick was only acting this insolently because he presumed Elwin would soon be cast out of the estate. But Elwin had no intention of leaving. In truth, he had just been contemplating whether to approach Dwight, so Frederick’s accusation was not entirely baseless.

“That… is not what I am doing,” Elwin said, his voice quiet.

His awkward, mumbled defense only fueled Frederick’s triumph. The man pressed closer, his sneer deepening.

“Are you not the same high-and-mighty young master who used to turn up his nose at every invitation the townspeople begged you to accept? Yet the moment Lord Dwight arrives, here you are, eagerly gracing this event in person. Your intentions are transparent. Tell me, do you crave noble alphas that desperately?”

“What?” Elwin gasped.

“Ah, I see. So that was it,” Frederick spat, letting out a harsh, mocking laugh. “Is that why you rejected my proposal? Because I lack a noble title?”

For reasons Elwin could not fathom, Frederick’s voice grew louder and more frantic with every word. The mocking smirk vanished, replaced by a flushed, greasy mask of fury. Elwin stared at him, utterly bewildered by the sudden outburst.

If anyone overheard this absurd tirade, it would breed a catastrophic misunderstanding. Seeking escape, Elwin lowered his head and backed away, retreating with the frantic haste of a man fleeing a rabid, drooling beast.

“I… yes, of course. My apologies. If you will excuse me…”

Fortunately, Frederick was too consumed by his own histrionics to pursue him. Slipping away, Elwin let out a shaky breath and hurried in the opposite direction.

Suddenly, his gaze caught on something near the glass doors leading to the moonlit garden. It was Leon. Standing beside him was a lady Elwin recognized—the same woman who had sat next to Leon at the previous tea party, relentlessly monopolizing his attention.

Amused by some unspoken jest, she fluttered her fan, hiding her mouth as she let out a delicate, chiming laugh. Above the painted silk, her eyes curved into brilliant crescent moons, casting a heavy, suggestive look in Leon’s direction.

Without his spectacles, Elwin’s vision was a soft blur, yet he could still discern the silhouette of Leon’s head tilting, seemingly returning her smile. Elwin narrowed his eyes, focusing entirely on the pair. He strained so intensely that the lady’s soft whisper carried across the noisy hall, striking his ears with vivid clarity.

“Mr. Leon, would you care to accompany me for a brief stroll in the garden?”

Why those simple words struck him like a physical blow, Elwin could not comprehend. A jolt of panic seized him, so violent he nearly blurted out, A stroll in the garden? right there in the open. His cheeks burned as if he had just overheard some shameful, forbidden secret.

At first, it felt as though his chest had ignited. Then, just as suddenly, the fire died, replaced by a torrent of ice water poured directly over his heart, freezing his very blood.

Elwin could not bring himself to look at Leon’s face. If Leon wore his usual lazy, half-lidded smile—or worse, if his expression held even a fraction of the warmth he had shown Elwin just a few mornings ago—Elwin felt his mind would shatter.

It isn’t that serious… Of course it isn’t.

He forced himself to breathe, desperately trying to quiet the roaring in his ears. There was nothing unusual about this. Such interactions were the lifeblood of these high-society gatherings. Yes, he had read of them in books. Even in standard literature, far removed from trashy romance novels, young men and women routinely used such invitations to signal their interest.

Signal their interest?

At the realization, a sharp ache bloomed in his chest. Elwin slapped his hands against his cheeks, hard enough to sting, forcing himself to snap out of the spiral.

Whether Leon courted others or was courted in turn was absolutely none of his concern. Why should it be? They were nothing to one another. Leon was merely a transient guest passing through his life, whereas Elwin…

I am the eldest son of the House of Ravenwell.

A sudden, fierce pride surged within his breast, instilling him with a reckless courage he had lacked only moments prior. He whipped his gaze back toward the heavy velvet drapes partitioning the inner parlor. Fortunately, Frederick had drifted away, and the rhythmic snap of playing cards still drifted from beyond the threshold.

Elwin marched toward the gap in the drapes and cleared his throat, deliberately projecting his voice over the noise of the game. The players, sensing a presence, paused and looked up with collective bewilderment.

Seizing the brief lull, Elwin swept past the drapes, stepping fully into the parlor. He marched straight toward Dwight, who occupied the seat of honor, and blurted out his proposition before his courage could fail him.

“Mr. Dwight, would you care to join me for a stroll in the garden?”

A suffocating silence descended instantly. The soft rustle of cards died, the low murmurs evaporated, and the very air in the room seemed to plummet below freezing. In the agonizing stillness, the sheer lunacy of his actions finally registered.

Even Dwight looked utterly flabbergasted. The icy, supercilious mask he usually wore cracked, leaving him to blink in stunned silence before he managed a strained, hesitant reply.

“Ah… right now? I am currently in the middle of a hand.”

The silence that followed was excruciating. If so much as a single snicker escaped anyone at the table, the ridicule would spread like wildfire, devouring what little dignity Elwin had left. His only option was immediate, unconditional retreat.

“I see. Forgive the interruption.”

He delivered the line with practiced composure, but his legs felt like leaden stilts as he spun on his heel. He fled the parlor, his pace stiff and frantic, walking forward with no clear destination.

The bright, elegant waltz of the banquet hall continued to play, mingling with the rise and fall of aristocratic laughter, but to Elwin’s ears, every sound seemed poised to morph into a mocking jeer directed solely at him.

He pushed through the doors and into the garden, desperate to put as much distance as possible between himself and the oppressive heat of the ballroom. Without his spectacles, the world dissolved into a soft, dizzying smear of shadows. To his strained eyes, the manicured hedges and winding paths merged into a single, undulating mass of darkness. He plunged deeper into the gloom.

You absolute fool. What a pathetic, miserable display.

A wave of self-loathing washed over him, so intense it left a dull, physical ache in the pit of his stomach. It was mortifying that he had made such an absurd proposition to Dwight, and even more humiliating to have done so publicly. Yet, that was not the true source of his shame.

The moment Dwight rejected him, a terrible, blinding clarity had settled over Elwin. He did not care. He was not disappointed by Dwight’s refusal, nor was he heartbroken. In truth, had Dwight actually accepted and forced him into an intimate, moonlit walk, Elwin would have found the experience utterly suffocating.

He harbored no affection for the new count. At best, he felt a lingering sense of familial duty; at worst, a deep-seated revulsion. The sudden impulse to approach Dwight had never been about protecting his family’s legacy.

I wasn’t thinking of Mr. Dwight at all. I simply lost my mind because I saw Mr. Leon with that woman. And the reason I lost my temper…

As the image of Leon and the lady sharing that intimate laugh flashed in his mind, Elwin paused and craned his neck, scanning the shadowy expanse of the garden. Even amidst his spiraling humiliation, a petty, gnawing anxiety persisted: Were they out here right now, walking side-by-side?

Then, a voice cut through the dark.

“Sir Elwin.”

Elwin froze, convinced for a fleeting second that his mind was playing tricks on him. He turned toward the sound and found the very man he had been searching for standing in the shadows.

“…You seemed rather occupied,” Elwin said, desperately fighting to keep his tone flat and indifferent, even as a rush of relief and—humiliatingly—pure joy flooded his chest. “What brings you all the way out here?”

Leon offered a lazy, fluid shrug as he closed the distance between them.

As Leon fell into step beside him, the dizzying, blurred edges of the garden seemed to settle into focus. Night had fully claimed the grounds, draping the paths in a cool, late-autumn stillness. The glittering lights and muffled laughter of the estate lay far behind them, swallowed by the peaceful dark.

“The party was dreadfully tedious,” Leon murmured.

It was a simple, unremarkable statement, yet a sudden bubble of laughter rose in Elwin’s throat. He pressed his lips together, carefully composing his features into a prim, neutral expression before speaking.

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself immensely amidst all those admirers.”

“Ah, they all spoke far too much for my liking.”

“You could have stayed for a dance or two,” Elwin pressed, his voice tight. “I am certain there was no shortage of ladies eager for your hand.”

What he truly wanted to say—what clawed at the back of his throat—was: I saw that lady ask you to walk with her. I was driven half-mad wondering if you would accept. But such a confession was impossible. It would lay him bare, making him sound like a petulant maiden green with envy.

Yet, Elwin remained blissfully unaware that his thinly veiled deflections sounded just as hopelessly possessive. Suddenly, the truth struck him with the force of a physical blow.

Ah. Jealousy. So this is what it feels like.

As his heart hammered against his ribs at the terrifying realization, a soft, knowing smile tugged at the corners of Leon’s lips. As if he could read every tumultuous thought swirling in Elwin’s mind, he offered a low, teasing reassurance.

“I have never been particularly fond of dancing.”

“There were card games as well,” Elwin countered, searching for any distraction. “You enjoy games, do you not?”

“Indeed, but the games the ladies proposed were rather… taxing. Apparently, it was a game of interrogations, where one is permitted to ask any question, and the other must answer with nothing but the absolute truth.”

Elwin, who had been cross-examining Leon like a suspicious spouse, suddenly perked up.

“That actually sounds rather intriguing.”

The prospect of extracting information so cleanly was highly appealing. Moreover, Elwin was a notoriously honest soul; he had nothing to fear from such a game.

“Does it?” Leon mused, a spark of genuine curiosity lighting his eyes. “Well, I suppose I might find it far more interesting myself—provided I were playing it with you, Sir Elwin.”