Chapter 58

Leon remained resolutely deaf to Elwin’s protests.

Left with no alternative, Elwin shamelessly settled himself atop Leon’s folded overcoat, but no sooner had the gentle warmth of the soft wool and the faint, comforting scent of its owner enveloped him than the carriage shuddered and the train departed.

Outside the glass, the familiar fields of Elwin’s childhood rapidly receded, replaced by a swift procession of rivers, rolling hills, soaring church spires, and dark factory chimneys.

A succession of sights he had never before envisioned unfurled in a breathless cascade before his eyes.

As the rhythmic clatter of the iron rails faded into a familiar background hum, the muffled chatter from the adjacent compartment drifted through the wooden partition.

A city merchant lamented a disastrous promissory-note transaction that threatened to ruin him, while beside him, a shoemaker offered a gloomy counterpoint, grumbling about the soaring, volatile price of leather.

Every hardship sounded so grave that Elwin, merely eavesdropping, felt a pang of vicarious anxiety.

Yet, moments later, the men shared their traveling rations and burst into hearty laughter. The rustling of canvas bags, the cheerful pop of a cork, the mild grousing over cold tea followed by a boisterous guffaw—all of it thrummed with the raw, vibrant pulse of everyday existence.

The vast world Elwin had only ever observed through ink and parchment truly breathed out here; or perhaps, more accurately, he had spent his entire life blind to reality.

“Reflecting on it now,” Elwin murmured, his voice a delicate mix of quiet excitement and wistful melancholy, “I suppose I truly am a sheltered, delicately raised young master.”

Leon looked up, a trace of amusement and confusion in his eyes. “What brings on such a sudden realization?”

“It is only…” Elwin trailed off, fingers tracing the hem of his sleeve. “We have barely traveled past our county line, yet everything feels so foreign. I have spent my entire life confined within those estate walls, utterly ignorant of the world. Perhaps if I had known more…”

Had he possessed even a fraction of worldly wisdom, he might not have fallen prey to Dwight’s machinations.

Throughout the sleepless hours of the previous night, wedged between terror of what Dwight might execute next, Elwin had spiraled into a bitter self-loathing, wondering how he could have been so blind to such transparent deception. He had harbored doubts about Dwight’s noble blood, yes, but he had never imagined that the second-born son of an actual aristocratic house would stoop to forging his own family’s official seals.

Had Elwin’s foolishness stemmed from a naive belief that high birth naturally equated to moral uprightness?

The world stretched vast and jagged, populated by endless variations of humanity. Both people and society wore multiple masks, yet Elwin’s shallow understanding had imperiled his entire household.

As he sank deeper into the mire of his own regrets, Leon’s gaze softened, studying him with quiet intensity. After a momentary silence, Leon broke the tension. “Would you care to hear a little about my family?”

“…Your family, Mr. Leon?” Elwin’s eyes brightened. Though swallowed by gloom only a breath before, his curiosity flared; Leon had never once offered a glimpse into his personal history or true identity.

Upon receiving Elwin’s eager nod, Leon fished a few wrapped pieces of chocolate from his traveling pack and pressed them into the young master’s palm. Shifting his stance to face Elwin more directly, he began. “I have two elder brothers. The eldest is meticulous and possesses a natural gravitas—a man born to inherit. He executes the commands of our formidable mother to the letter. A truly formidable man. My second brother is exceedingly wise and gentle, though his constitution was always fragile.”

“Oh, how terrible.”

“Fortunately, after a late marriage to an exceptionally brilliant partner, his health rallied significantly. And then there is myself—who was, as you might easily deduce, the black sheep of the house.”

Elwin, slowly chewing his chocolate, unconsciously let his brow furrow in silent protest. Leon caught the defensive expression and let out a soft, amused chuckle.

“I was once plagued by the exact same anxieties you harbor now, my lord,” Leon continued. “Until I reached my majority, I was rarely permitted to step beyond our estate gates. It was suffocating. I constantly feared that by remaining entombed within those walls while the world moved on, I would grow into a foolish creature blinded by prejudice.”

“…”

“My mother and eldest brother strongly disagreed with my wanderlust. They maintained that absolute truth could be grasped anywhere, so long as one sought it. Had my second brother not vigorously championed my cause, I would never have won my freedom. Because his own frail health kept him bound, perhaps he wished for me to run in his stead.” Leon peeled back the foil of a chocolate piece, popped it into his mouth, and let the sweetness settle before resuming. “And so, I obtained license to roam the world. I witnessed much and experienced more—so much so that a grand arrogance seized me. I foolishly believed I understood the entire world. It was a vain illusion. Looking back, my mother was correct. Remaining stationary does not hinder one’s vision, and even after traversing continents, I failed to fully shed my own biases.”

“You… truly felt that way, Mr. Leon?” Elwin asked, astonished.

Leon offered a self-deprecating nod.

“I believe you are an exceptionally sincere and wise gentleman,” Elwin asserted warmly. He spoke with urgent sincerity, desperate to keep Leon from sinking into melancholy. It was no empty flattery; Elwin lacked the guile for deception.

Leon’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Even though I behaved so abominably during our first encounter, Sir Elwin?”

Elwin froze. Because he was indeed an atrocious liar, his entire face betrayed him. Had Leon introduced himself as the family black sheep back then, Elwin’s immediate thought would have been a dry, Of course you are. Spotting this transparent flash of recollection, Leon threw back his head and laughed aloud. Though Elwin felt a flush of embarrassment at being so easily read, the sheer warmth of Leon’s laughter proved infectious, coaxing a soft smile to his own lips.

At that moment, the train ground to a halt at its second station.

Elwin observed the bustling platform with keen interest. Yet, even after the last of the passengers had boarded, the locomotive failed to resume its journey. Outside, station attendants scurried along the wooden platforms with a frantic, uncoordinated energy that boded ill.

Before Elwin could voice his confusion, elite passengers from the forward first-class carriages began descending to the platform. Sensing an impending crisis, Elwin slid open the compartment door and peered into the corridor.

Just then, a harried conductor approached.

“My deepest apologies, gentlemen. A mechanical failure forces an indefinite halt.”

“A halt?” Elwin’s breath caught. “For how long?”

“A vital component has fractured,” the conductor replied with a grimace. “Repairs will prove extensive. I strongly advise disembarking to wait on the platform for the time being.”

Elwin’s stomach plummeted. Westbury lay four stations ahead—a grueling three-hour journey under normal circumstances. Their connecting train from Westbury to the capital was scheduled for seven that evening. Any prolonged delay would ruin their timeline.

“Can the repairs be concluded within three or four hours?” Elwin pressed, desperate.

Leon preempted the conductor with a far more sobering assessment. “Unlikely. The fact that they are emptying the carriages suggests a severe structural failure. Even if they patch it up, a locomotive that breaks down once almost invariably fails again before reaching its final destination.”

Elwin bit his lip until it paled. He understood that delays plagued rail travel, but he had never anticipated such a catastrophe at this crucial juncture. He could not gamble their entire future on a hope. If they missed the evening train from Westbury, they would have to wait two days for the next departure to the capital. Elwin mentally summoned the national railway schedules he had meticulously memorized.

“We must find an alternative,” Elwin declared. “This is Dunford Station, and… there are no direct lines from here to the capital. A connection would take—”

“What of Adlington?” Leon interrupted.

“Adlington offers a direct morning departure to the capital,” Elwin calculated rapidly, “but there is no rail connection linking Dunford to Adlington.”

“Then we ride,” Leon proposed smoothly. “If we procure mounts and press hard, we can reach Adlington by dusk.”

A spark of hope flared in Elwin’s chest.

Boarding the morning train from Adlington would place them in the capital by afternoon. While slightly behind their original itinerary, it was infinitely superior to waiting passively for disaster to strike.

“That is a brilliant plan. Let us make haste!” As Elwin bolted upright, Leon’s overcoat, which had served as his cushion, tumbled to the dusty floor. Crimson blooming across his cheeks, Elwin hastily retrieved the coat, brushed away the lint with rapid, apologetic strokes, and handed it back before gathering their bags.

After disembarking, they grabbed a hasty meal at the station tavern and secured mounts from the nearby livery. Elwin had initially estimated a swift three-to-four-hour ride, but the heavy packs weighed down the saddlebags, and the exhaustion of his sleepless night rapidly sapped his stamina. They were forced to halt for frequent rests.

By the time they crested the hill overlooking Adlington, the landscape was swallowed by total darkness.

“You have endured admirably, Sir Elwin,” Leon murmured as they entered the town limits.

“Ah… indeed,” Elwin panted, letting out a weary breath. “Though I am simply relieved we arrived in one piece. A stroke of fortune amidst our trials.”

Though caked in road dust and thoroughly spent, Elwin took comfort in how decisively they had navigated the crisis. Leon returned the rented mounts to the local stables with practiced efficiency. Slinging their heavy travel bags over his shoulder, he turned to Elwin. “You are exhausted. Let us secure a room immediately.”

The word struck Elwin like a sudden physical blow.

In his singular focus on reaching the capital, he had neglected a glaring reality: to board the morning train, they had to survive the night. Unless they intended to sleep beneath the stars, lodging was unavoidable. Had his faithful steward, Alfred, been in possession of his health, the man would have vehemently forbidden Elwin—an unmarried Omega—from embarking on such an unchaperoned journey with Leon, a virile Alpha.

Had Alfred known they would be spending the night at a common inn, he would have surely fainted on the spot.

We will secure separate rooms, Elwin reasoned, attempting to quiet the rising panic in his chest. There is no harm in that. Suppressing his guilt, Elwin nodded with forced composure.

They walked toward a grand, well-lit establishment near the station.

As Adlington served as a primary terminal for daily capital-bound trains, the inn was sprawling and respectable. Elwin allowed himself a small sigh of relief, confident that an establishment of this caliber would have plenty of vacancies. But fate, once set on a disastrous course, rarely contents itself with a single blow.

“Two rooms, if you please,” Leon requested upon reaching the reception desk. He cleared his throat, his tone carrying an uncharacteristic, almost defensive politeness that suggested he, too, was acutely aware of the delicate nature of their situation. “The finest you have available. We shall also require dinner.”

The innkeeper did not even pause his scratching pen. “We have but one room remaining, sir.”

“What?” Elwin gasped, nearly throwing himself over the counter.

The innkeeper flicked excess ink from his nib and finally looked up, his expression thoroughly unmoved by the young man’s distress. “Today is market day, young sir. The town is bursting at the seams. I have exactly one chamber left, and it contains a single bed. Granted, it is a grand, sturdy thing—more than spacious enough for two grown men. Will that suffice?”

[END of VOLUME 2]