— "Alex, look how exquisite Lady Elizabeth looks! Don't you think so?"
— "Yes, Mother," the Young Lord replied somewhat curtly, not granting the lady even a fleeting glance.
Barely having crossed the threshold of Covent Garden, Alex was enveloped by the dense scent of powder and perfumes. The mixture struck his head sharply, as if clouding his thoughts.
He paused to let pass a couple making their way to the staircase.
A young debutante walked arm in arm with an elderly gentleman, who watched her through his pince-nez, clearly charmed by her genuine laughter and radiant smile. A thin trail of tobacco smoke lingered behind them, intensifying Alex's dizziness.
The theatre's foyer was yet another stage — not for the performers, but for the audience, each playing their own roles and pursuing their own aims this season. Alex was expected to play his part among them too.
He instinctively adjusted his cravat, which felt rather tightly tied.
— "Ah, Lord and Lady Willow. Don't forget to thank them for the invitation," Lady Carlston whispered.
Alex did his best to maintain conversation and smile more often than he wished, so as not to be seen as gloomy or detached. Lady Carlston often reproached him for this.
Amid the crowd's murmuring, a familiar voice reached Young Lord's ear. He turned his head just enough to catch a glimpse, then quickly looked away, as if fearing his interest might be noticed.
Lady Carlston followed her son's glance and her expression immediately softened. She smiled warmly and gave a barely perceptible nod, inviting the Duke to join them.
— "A delightful evening to you, Lady Carlston, Young Lord Carlston, Lord Willow, Lady Willow."
Having exchanged greetings, they soon slipped into polite conversation.
— "Duke, I was quite certain we would see you here this evening," Lady Carlston remarked.
— "I must confess, I have a fondness for 'Lucia di Lammermoor'. I have seen it twice already and believe I could watch it many more times," the Duke smiled.
— "Have you come to indulge your love of opera alone this evening, Your Grace?" Lord Willow inquired.
— "Company, while often delightful, is not always necessary." replied the Duke with his customary smile.
Alex, who had remained silent ever since the Duke joined the group, glanced at him briefly. It wasn't that he had nothing to say — rather, he found himself listening with interest. The Duke held the room with such ease that Alex saw no reason to interrupt, nor did he feel any obligation to.
— "Perhaps, the Young Lord might be persuaded to keep you company and spare you the ordeal of solitude?" Lady Willow suggested with a touch of amusement in her voice.
— "Indeed," added Lord Willow with a chuckle, "you need not feel obliged to endure the evening in our elderly company, Young Lord."
Alex hesitated for a moment, yet the approving glances of the gathering left little room for refusal — he responded promptly.
— "If His Grace does not object, I would be honoured."
— "Object? I should be delighted, Young Lord. Thank You"
The hum of the gathering quieted as the ushers politely invited the guests to find their seats.
From the vantage of the box, Alex allowed his gaze to wander across the theatre's grandeur. The chandeliers shimmered like captured constellations, casting soft golden light upon the tiers of velvet-lined balconies. The anticipation in the air felt almost tangible, as if the very walls of Covent Garden held their breath before the curtain rose. For a moment, Alex forgot his headache in the quiet majesty of it all, the sense of something magnificent about to unfold.
— "You seem quieter than usual this evening, Young Lord. I do hope I have not compelled you to keep me company. It would trouble me greatly if you felt obliged rather than willing."
The Young Lord flushed with a touch of embarrassment.
"I should not be so silent. Say something."
— "I beg your pardon, Your Grace. You are not the cause of my quietude. For some reason, tonight the scent of the perfumes affects me more strongly than usual, and I feel somewhat light-headed."
— "The air within these walls can be quite overwhelming at times. Pray, do not trouble yourself. If you would like, we might step outside briefly."
— "No, no, the opera is about to begin. I shall be quite alright, thank you"
The Duke hesitated to press further and fell silent for a moment, then added with a smile, "Please, do not trouble yourself with formalities. — you may simply call me by name. I believe we are already well acquainted."
Clearly caught off guard by the sudden proposition, Alex slightly flushed.
— "Thank you. I shall keep that in mind… for the future"
Nathaniel merely smiled and said nothing.
Alex fell into thought. He realized that the Duke no longer irritated him the way he used to — a change brought on, perhaps, by the time they had shared these past weeks. Yet, a certain wariness remained for reasons he couldn't explain to himself.
To ease the awkward silence, Alex suddenly asked,
— "Why do you love this opera so much?"
— "You haven't seen this opera before, have you, Young Lord? In that case, I wouldn't want to spoil your first experience by telling you what happens next." — Suddenly, the lights began to dim slowly. The Duke lowered his voice and leaned toward Alex to finish his thought: "I'll try to answer carefully. The aria at the culmination always moves me deeply — it evokes a powerful feeling for the heroine. I'd be glad to hear your opinion afterward."
The orchestra's first notes swelled through the grand hall, signaling the beginning of Lucia di Lammermoor.
As the performance began, Alex forgot himself for a moment and inclined toward the Duke, whispering.
— "Do you suppose this is based on a true story?"
— "As far as I know, it's inspired by a scandal involving the Dalrymple family of Scotland."
— "How do you know that?" Alex whispered his question softly without turning his gaze from the performance.
With a slight smile, the Duke answered "I came across the fact quite by chance, while I was in Scotland."
Alex looked at the Duke with a touch of surprise. He had never travelled beyond the borders of England, and the mention of Scotland stirred a quiet curiosity in him.
— "You've even been to Scotland?" he asked, almost before thinking.
The Duke raised an amused brow and asked with a smile: "Why "even", Young Lord?"
Alex flushed and lowered his gaze, correcting himself quickly.
— "Forgive me. I meant no slight. I believe I once heard rumours of your travels — China, and other far-off places — and I suppose I was simply surprised that something as near as Scotland was among them."
— "I have not been to China," Nathaniel replied with a faint smile. "But if you are curious, I should be glad to tell you where I truly have been."
Alex nodded and looked at Nathaniel with keen interest.
— "I left England without a fixed itinerary, only a quiet resolve to see more of the world. I passed through France and the Mediterranean, lingered for a while in Morocco, and then travelled east — through Constantinople and deep into Persia. Much of what I saw was beautiful; much of it, unsettling. I returned by way of Austria and Prussia and eventually found myself in Paris again. I had hoped to cross the ocean and see America. Perhaps one day."
— "Why did you decide it was time to return?"
The Duke hesitated for a moment before answering. It seemed unusual, he was never at a loss for words before.
— "Certain… circumstances required my presence in London."
The Young Lord felt it was not his place to inquire further, recognizing that his relationship with the Duke was not close enough for such questions, and so, with a strained smile, Alex thanked him for the story.
— "Forgive me for distracting you from the opera. I shall trouble you no more."
The Duke seemed about to reply but changed his mind.
As the opera drew to a close, Nathaniel inquired:
— "I would very much like to know your thoughts on the opera so far, Young Lord."
Alex was deeply moved, though he endeavored not to show it. The plot and the singer's voice had left an indelible impression upon him.
— "What struck me most was that, although Lucia was broken by illness, it seemed to grant her a certain freedom — a chance to defy her cruel fate, to break free from the thread of destiny, though at a terrible cost. Madness became her revenge, and death her release from a merciless fate. I found it... rather inspiring, in a strange sort of way. Well… Not inspiring" He smiled awkwardly, searching for the right word.
— "Profound?" the Duke inquired gently.
— "Yes, that's it," Alex replied with a slight nod.
— "Your thoughts resonate deeply with me, and…"
Lord Willow approached, accompanied by his wife and Alex's mother, offering a courteous smile.
— "How do you find the opera this evening, Your Grace, Young Lord?"
They exchanged a few gentle pleasantries before the Duke courteously took his leave and made his way home.
— "How did you enjoy watching the opera from the box?" Lady Carlston asked on their way home in the carriage, catching Alex deep in his thoughts. After a pause, she added with a smile, "No matter how often I watch you both, you're always engaged in conversation."
— "The Duke was kind enough to help me understand the plot, Mother,"
— "There's a certain charm in the way he speaks, wouldn't you agree? He is always such a pleasure to listen to. "
— "Indeed, I do, Mother," Young Lord answered. He sincerely held that view.
Lady Carlston smiled warmly.
— "I'm glad you've become friends."
— "Friends?"
— "Am I not right?" Lady Carlston asked with a hint of surprise.
To Alex, "friends" still seemed rather odd to describe their relationship.
— "I wouldn't say we are friends... Rather, good acquaintances."
— "Whatever you say, my dear boy," Lady Carlston replied with a sly smile, and said no more.