The next day, without a moment's hesitation, Alex set out for Cunningham's estate.
Since their last tête-à-tête — an afternoon spent at the piano with Grandes Études de Paganini — Alex had been troubled by a quiet sense of distance growing between himself and the Duke. And their most recent exchange, brought to an abrupt end by Lady Ophelia's arrival, had left him with conflicted impressions he could not quite name.
Though the Young Lord would never confess it aloud, he had come to realise that he missed their… friendship. The word had surfaced on its own, unbidden, and startled him with its clarity.
A voice within rose in quiet protest — "You did not even know about Lady Ophelia. And what do you really know of him? Can that sort of relationship be called friendship truly?" — but Alex merely gave his head a faint shake, as though brushing away an irritating insect.
For never before had he longed so often for someone's company — and never had it brought such enjoyment. And since, the word friendship lingered.
As soon as Alex arrived, he and Nathaniel made their way to the workshop. Both young men had fallen under the spell of woodcarving.
That morning, they decided to try working with black walnut — a beautiful yet stubborn wood. Soon their arms ached and sweat dampened their brows. It became clear that this noble material was not yet ready to yield to their hands.
Still, they found pleasure in their time together, like boys once more — cheerful, laughing, and simply happy to be near each other.
Time had slipped by unnoticed until the sharp drumming of rain against the workshop roof pulled them from their activity. Evening was drawing close. Laughing, they raced for the house, holding their jackets over their heads in a vain effort to avoid getting wet.
Once inside, Nathaniel pushed the damp hair back from his brow and suddenly offered:
— "Would you care to stay the night? You must be worn out — and only a madman would think of riding out in such weather. We have enough rooms; you may choose whichever suits your fancy, and I shall have it made ready for you."
Alex hesitated. Quite against his will, the crude remarks of Young Lord Pratt flashed through his mind. But then, his mother's words stirred gently in his memory: "The Duke is a man of honour, like his parents. I believe you must decide for yourself what sort of man he is."
"Besides, saying no again would be rather rude — and in weather like this, it would look doubly strange."
— "Thank you. I should be glad to stay." The Young lord turned to his friend and gave a small, firm nod.
— "Truly?" the Duke asked, as though scarcely believing his ears.
— "Yes," Alex repeated, smiling faintly.
Nathaniel's face lit up. He gave a few instructions for a hearty supper, a hot bath, fresh clothes for Lord Carlston, and preparations for three guest rooms — so that his guest might choose whichever suited him best.
— "This one is nearest to mine," he said, opening the second door. "It once belonged to my father and mother. Shall we step inside?"
Alex glanced around, a little awkwardly.
— "Shall we have a look at the next one?" Nathaniel offered. "It's on the ground floor."
—"There's no need, this room will do quite well. Thank you."
Nathaniel didn't insist. He simply gave Sebastian a brief nod. A maid appeared, carrying a jug of water.
— "Then make yourself comfortable," the Duke said. "Fresh clothes will be brought shortly, and the bath will be ready in ten minutes. I'll expect you for supper in the lower hall. Sebastian will escort you."
Once the Duke had left, Alex allowed himself a more deliberate glance around the room. He had thought it ill-mannered to scrutinise the accommodations too closely in his host's presence — to appear choosy would have seemed both discourteous and ungracious. But now, alone, he took a few slow steps forward, letting his gaze wander.
The room carried a quiet dignity. A bed with a dark green canopy stood against the wall, its carved wooden headboard softened by time. A small fireplace crackled gently beside it, the scent of burning wood curling into the air.
By the hearth, an armchair waited with a folded plaid draped neatly over its arm. Near the window stood a writing desk, complete with inkwell and a quill — everything arranged as if untouched for years, though not a speck of dust could be seen. A narrow bookshelf stood beside it, filled with well-used volumes. The sage-green walls gave the room a sense of quiet repose, completed by nothing but the rain's soft percussion.
After the bath with milk and lavender oil — a combination Alex himself loved and was surprised the servants had guessed so well — he began dressing in dry clothes.
"How is this possible? This suit fits me almost perfectly. Perhaps the trousers need shortening, but otherwise…" Alex glanced at himself in the mirror and couldn't resist turning slightly to get a better look at his reflection in this unusual outfit for him. The suit consisted of a crisp white shirt, a deep navy waistcoat, and a matching jacket and trousers.
The Young Lord barely flinched from the unfamiliarity of the moment when he heard Sebastian announce him before they entered the dining hall.
The Duke turned, his face lighting up with a smile.
— "Please, do come in," he said, gesturing to Alex to take a seat at the table. With a nod, he dismissed Sebastian. "That suit really suits you."
— "Do you think so?" Alex felt a warm flush of embarrassment. "To be honest, I thought so too. The sleeves and trousers are a bit long, but I asked Ginger to help me — she managed to tailor it just right. How did you come by a suit my size?"
— "Once, I was young myself" the Duke said with a smile, raising his glass of wine.
Alex's face showed surprise. The Duke laughed.
— "Is that so hard to believe?"
— "No, no, it's not that. It's just strange to realize… I'm wearing the very same clothes you once wore."
— "I apologize for not finding you something newer. I'll be sure to take care of that next time."
— "No need, why go through such trouble?"
— "It's no trouble at all. I want you to be comfortable. Honestly… I'm quite nervous. I want to learn to be a good host," the Duke laughed.
— "You are very hospitable!" Alex exclaimed, perhaps a bit too eagerly, and the Duke laughed again.
— "You know, you're one of the first guests this estate has had in ten years."
— "How is that possible?" Alex asked in genuine surprise.
— "Of course, except for the ball when I first arrived. But that was also the first in almost ten years — and more of a forced affair, to ease me back into society."
— "How did it come to this?"The Duke smiled, took a sip of wine, and continued.
— "This may sound arrogant, but I've occasionally been the subject of rumors and gossip. I wish it weren't so. Perhaps you've heard some yourself?"
Alex's face barely had time to show a flicker of discomfort before the Duke seemed to halt it.
— "Please, don't answer. I won't force you to recall them — often gossip paints me in an unflattering light. But two things are true… and I might confess it to you," he said smiling faintly.
— "And what might that be?" Alex felt a sudden tightness in his chest. The pause between question and answer stretched like hours rather than seconds.
— "That I'm a recluse and a bit of an oddity." With a face as if nothing were amiss, he took another sip of wine.
A great weight had lifted from Young Lord's shoulders, and he laughed out loud.
— "That'll be hard to argue with. You mean you simply didn't want to invite anyone else?"
— "Exactly. Except you," Nathaniel replied with a face as if stating something utterly formal and unremarkable.
Alex felt his cheeks heat up in an instant. Something tightened around his chest like a band, and his stomach tensed as if bracing for danger. He dared not say a word and quietly resumed eating.
After dinner, the Duke offered Alex a tour of the estate. As they walked through the corridors, Nathaniel spoke of each room and its history. Alex was captivated, asking about every portrait of the Cunningham family members. Their tour ended at their bedrooms.
— "I fear I've kept you long enough. Please, rest now. I shall check on you in half an hour, if you don't mind," the Duke said.
— "Very well," Young Lord replied.
Once alone, Alex changed into a linen white shirt and trousers. To avoid counting every minute, he took a book from the shelf and tried to read, though the words seemed to pass through his mind without meaning. Eventually, he set the book aside, opened the window, and sat at the desk to watch the sky — clear now, though a heavy rain had poured just an hour before. The freshness of the August night allowed him to forget everything else.
After a while, a soft knock came at the door.
— "How are you settling in?" the Duke asked with a smile.
— "Very well, thank you. The view from the window is stunning — I even caught a shooting star."
— "Really?" The Duke looked genuinely surprised. "You truly are lucky. I haven't seen one in years. The last time must have been when I was a child."
— "How can that be?"
Alex suddenly took his friend's hand with a smile. "Come, let's go and watch! August is the best time of year to catch a sight of a falling star!"
The Duke smiled and let Young Lord lead the way. He carried the candle while Alex gathered three plaids from nearby sofas. Spreading them out, the Young Lord handed one to the Duke to keep warm. They sat down together, gazing upwards.
— "Do you know that constellation?" Alex asked.
— "If I recall correctly, that's Aldebaran," the Duke replied.
— "You're not as lost as I thought," Alex teased, and they laughed.
They fell silent, watching the night sky.
— "Look! Did you see that?" Alex exclaimed, pointing excitedly.
— "Oh, what a pity — I must have been looking the other way," the Duke said.
— "Don't worry, August is full of shooting stars. Let's wait a bit longer."
Soon enough, a bright, beautiful star streaked across the sky. The Duke sighed in awe, "Truly breathtaking."
Alex looked like a happy puppy, delighted to have shared such a moment with his friend.
Nathaniel suggested they head back inside — the night was growing chilly, and Alex had only recently recovered from his "illness".
— "Thank you for this wonderful memory," the Duke said before returning to his room.
— "Are you already tired? Let's play something — I won't be able to sleep after what we've just seen!" Alex exclaimed.
— "Very well. What shall we play?" The Duke smiled.
They returned to the room where the Young Lord was staying. Alex tossed one of the blankets onto the floor and sat down cross-legged.
— "Surely a respectable estate like this one must contain at least a deck of cards?" he said, as if playing the role of some highway rogue.
— "You underestimate me," the Duke replied with a chuckle. He stepped out briefly, retrieved a deck from his own chambers, and returned.
— "What shall we play?"
— "I want to play for a wish."
— "A wish?"
— "Precisely. If I win, say, three times, I get to make a wish — and you must grant it without question."
There was a spark of mischief in Alex's eyes; he was flushed with excitement, eager to play.
— "So, if I win three rounds, does that mean I get to make a wish?" the Duke asked with a raised brow and a sly smile.
— "Yes, but if I were you, I wouldn't count on it," Alex shot back.
The Duke smirked and they started to deal cards.
The night wore on. They played in earnest, head to head, neck and neck. By the time dawn approached, the score was 42 to 42. In the final hand, the Duke laid down his last trump with a calmness that belied the triumph in his chest.
Alex let out a roar of defeat.
— "I'm afraid, my lord, I shall subject you to a most torturous delay. I'll need some time to make proper use of such power," the Duke said, laughing.
Alex, though deeply frustrated, could not deny the joy of the evening. With mock fury, he lunged at the Duke and — quite unexpectedly — tumbled him down onto the blanket in a playful scuffle.
For a moment, the Duke stared up at him with a flicker of surprise. Alex caught his gaze and felt a sudden rush of embarrassment rising in his chest. But before he could react, Nathaniel flipped him with swift ease, reversing their positions so that Alex now lay beneath him.
— "You cannot win," the Duke said with a grin.
The playful grimace melted from Alex's face, and he burst into laughter. Nathaniel laughed too.
— "I see you don't take defeat well," he said. "But the sun's rising. I daresay we can now retire with a clear conscience. Good... morning?"
Boys laughed again.
When they woke well past noon, they shared a light breakfast and then returned to their unfinished woodcarving project.
That evening, as they parted, they exchanged the little figurines they had carved.
— "We've not ridden in some time," the Young Lord remarked. "I shall expect you tomorrow for a lesson."
— "Perhaps you'd like a change? Bring Waterlily, and you could ride Altiva instead."
— "Very well, Duke. It's a deal."
— "My lord, I beg you — surely it's time we set aside these formalities. I believe we're well enough acquainted for you to call me by my name. Don't you agree?"
Alex flushed and nodded, but didn't dare say the name aloud. And with that, they took their leave of each other.
Upon returning home, Young Lord stepped into his room and placed the little wooden fox on his desk with a warm smile.