announced, “Alexander Nigel Frankfurt Benedict, the
Fourth.” Alex winced.
“Alex,” said Julian, and the smile on
his face went from strained to welcoming.
Alex actually blushed.
“Julian, it’s so good to see you
again,” he said, stepping forward to press a soft kiss to the offered
hand. “I’ve brought you a small token of my affection,” he said, as
he was sure all the other men had said before him. He produced the box with a
smooth gesture, finding himself touched as Julian’s smile widened.
“I’d say you didn’t have to, but you
did,” said Julian impishly, getting a disapproving look from one of the
suitors; Godfrey had already returned to door duty.
Another young man, a Duckworth by the look of
him, drawled, “Funerary as always, I see, Benedict.”
Alex did not smirk, but it took effort.
“With our host in mourning, how could I be any less?” he asked
smoothly. Flora had helped him practice.
Julian looked suitably touched. “You wore
this for me?” he asked, though of course all the men had likely had their
suits made just for tonight.
“Though it’s true I do often wear
black,” said Alex, “tonight my black is for you, and for your
losses.”
“Thank you,” said Julian, his voice
soft and small this time, as though he didn’t know what to make of such honest
kindness. He busied himself unravelling the ribbon on his gift, opening the lid
to admire the sheen of the pearls before reading the jeweller’s written
explanation of the enchantment on them. “Oh! This is very kind of
you.”
“What is it?” asked another suitor, a
swarthy young man in rich amber and brown.
Julian showed them dutifully to the crowd.
“They’re charmed to bring love to the heartbroken,” he said.
“Did you make them?” asked Duckworth,
his voice rich with implication.
Alex shook his head. “I did not, they’re
from Clovis & Dade. I will get no advantage from my gift.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Julian,
closing the box and holding it in his lap. “I’m already feeling more
kindly disposed toward you.” He sounded flirty, hopeful, and Alex
swallowed a mix of triumph and guilt — after all, it wasn’t truly the young
man’s heart he was after.
He was saved from making a clever reply by
Godfrey announcing another suitor, this one a Holmes Willoughby. Willoughby was
an athletic sort, blond and blue-eyed and grinning his white grin, his suit a
soft dove grey with a crisp white shirt and blue cravat that made his eyes seem
to glow.
“Willoughby, how good of you to join
us,” said Julian, and Alex stepped back and joined the flock of colourful
admirers around the main chair.
Willoughby went to one knee and kissed Julian’s
hand, his eyes only on the potential prize with seemingly no attention paid to
his rivals. “I am sorry for the circumstances that bring me here, but glad
for the chance to win you,” he said earnestly.
Alex had to refrain from
rolling his eyes.
“Thank you, W- Holmes,” said Julian,
getting that lost little boy look that Alex found so disconcertingly
compelling.
Holmes kissed Julian’s hand, and then presented
his own gift, in a silvery grey satin box with a blue bow. “I’ve brought
you a small token,” he said, his tone suggesting regret that it couldn’t
be more.
“Thank you,” said Julian simply, and
Alex wondered if he’d flirted with any of the others, and if this quiet
vulnerability was Alex’s fault, or something in the other man.
Alex sighed and tried to remember his purpose,
humming very softly under his breath to get himself centred and calmed in the
midst of all the tediously difficult social intrigue.
Willoughby’s gift was a set of handkerchiefs,
monogrammed and spelled for softness and self-cleansing, another gift for a
grieving young man. Alex could see the rest of them looking nervous to have
been outmanoeuvred in this by two men in a row, their own more commonly
acceptable gifts cast aside while Julian clung to the boxes
Fourth.” Alex winced.
“Alex,” said Julian, and the smile on
his face went from strained to welcoming.
Alex actually blushed.
“Julian, it’s so good to see you
again,” he said, stepping forward to press a soft kiss to the offered
hand. “I’ve brought you a small token of my affection,” he said, as
he was sure all the other men had said before him. He produced the box with a
smooth gesture, finding himself touched as Julian’s smile widened.
“I’d say you didn’t have to, but you
did,” said Julian impishly, getting a disapproving look from one of the
suitors; Godfrey had already returned to door duty.
Another young man, a Duckworth by the look of
him, drawled, “Funerary as always, I see, Benedict.”
Alex did not smirk, but it took effort.
“With our host in mourning, how could I be any less?” he asked
smoothly. Flora had helped him practice.
Julian looked suitably touched. “You wore
this for me?” he asked, though of course all the men had likely had their
suits made just for tonight.
“Though it’s true I do often wear
black,” said Alex, “tonight my black is for you, and for your
losses.”
“Thank you,” said Julian, his voice
soft and small this time, as though he didn’t know what to make of such honest
kindness. He busied himself unravelling the ribbon on his gift, opening the lid
to admire the sheen of the pearls before reading the jeweller’s written
explanation of the enchantment on them. “Oh! This is very kind of
you.”
“What is it?” asked another suitor, a
swarthy young man in rich amber and brown.
Julian showed them dutifully to the crowd.
“They’re charmed to bring love to the heartbroken,” he said.
“Did you make them?” asked Duckworth,
his voice rich with implication.
Alex shook his head. “I did not, they’re
from Clovis & Dade. I will get no advantage from my gift.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Julian,
closing the box and holding it in his lap. “I’m already feeling more
kindly disposed toward you.” He sounded flirty, hopeful, and Alex
swallowed a mix of triumph and guilt — after all, it wasn’t truly the young
man’s heart he was after.
He was saved from making a clever reply by
Godfrey announcing another suitor, this one a Holmes Willoughby. Willoughby was
an athletic sort, blond and blue-eyed and grinning his white grin, his suit a
soft dove grey with a crisp white shirt and blue cravat that made his eyes seem
to glow.
“Willoughby, how good of you to join
us,” said Julian, and Alex stepped back and joined the flock of colourful
admirers around the main chair.
Willoughby went to one knee and kissed Julian’s
hand, his eyes only on the potential prize with seemingly no attention paid to
his rivals. “I am sorry for the circumstances that bring me here, but glad
for the chance to win you,” he said earnestly.
Alex had to refrain from
rolling his eyes.
“Thank you, W- Holmes,” said Julian,
getting that lost little boy look that Alex found so disconcertingly
compelling.
Holmes kissed Julian’s hand, and then presented
his own gift, in a silvery grey satin box with a blue bow. “I’ve brought
you a small token,” he said, his tone suggesting regret that it couldn’t
be more.
“Thank you,” said Julian simply, and
Alex wondered if he’d flirted with any of the others, and if this quiet
vulnerability was Alex’s fault, or something in the other man.
Alex sighed and tried to remember his purpose,
humming very softly under his breath to get himself centred and calmed in the
midst of all the tediously difficult social intrigue.
Willoughby’s gift was a set of handkerchiefs,
monogrammed and spelled for softness and self-cleansing, another gift for a
grieving young man. Alex could see the rest of them looking nervous to have
been outmanoeuvred in this by two men in a row, their own more commonly
acceptable gifts cast aside while Julian clung to the boxes
Similar Books
