Party Talk

Alexi’s entrance to the ball went relatively unremarked, and he was perfectly happy with that. He didn’t have a lot of use for fanfare or have that need so many of his peers seemed to have to be doted on. Not being the centre of attention gave him freedom from the politics his father was so enamoured of, as well. This way, his time and effort were all his own and he spent the majority of the party observing.

Most of his observations were the boring stuff of socialite chatter and positioning. He well knew there were young ladies in attendance with an eye to snagging the next Lord Silsbury, and his fortunes, for their own. News of his father’s ill health was hardly a secret at this point. The old man had not attended a soiree like this one in months, and people noticed. People asked questions, and already, he could feel the eyes of prospective fathers-in-law studying him. It made his skin crawl.

This was exactly the reason he had wished Leonard to accompany him. If he had Leonard to distract him, he could not be cornered by money-grubbing men with simpering daughters, or patronizing mothers pretending to dote on the poor, lone young bachelor who surely needed the love of a good woman to set him to rights in the face of his poor father’s decline.

This was the line being fed him at the moment by Lady…in fact, he couldn’t remember the woman’s name, let alone that of the girl at her side. He glanced at the child, for child she was, no more than seventeen, surely, and stifled a sigh. They had cornered him next to the mantle, his drink empty and the heat from the roaring fire soaking past the brocade and lace until sweat trickled uncomfortably down his spine.

Times like this, he desperately needed Leonard. Leonard, who kept him from blurting things like “I like to suck other men’s pricks and wear dresses. You don’t want me.” Because he surely did not want this slip of a thing, and pretending he did would only lead to ill feelings and a morass of social disaster he’d never dig himself out of.

Coming out and saying he was not interested was no good, either. Leonard always seemed to have the right excuse to extricate him from these situations, but a quick, fruitless glance around the parlour only reinforced that he was on his own. He had precious few allies as long as he avoided the marriage trap and thus remained on the outside of his father’s politics. It had been a mistake coming here.

That was the precise moment his gaze fell on a familiar profile, and even the droning platitudes of the pair who had maneuvered him practically into the fire were drowned out by the roar of his own blood in his ears. Jordan.

As the professor’s head turned and their gazes met, Alexi couldn’t have looked away if his life had depended on it. He gripped his glass in a suddenly clammy hand, fearful of it slipping and shattering on the hearth stones. This could be his chance to make things right with Jordan, to apologize. He knew Leonard would call him a fool for it, but he hoped anyway. His mind, always sluggish when it came to social niceties, groped for an excuse to leave the women and go to his professor.

Then Jordan’s face closed, his gaze shifted over Alexi, like he was part of the woodwork, and the moment was past.

So much for social niceties. Alexi set his glass down on the mantle with a shaking hand, ducked his head and mumbled a “beg your pardon” as he slipped out of the conversation and all but scurried toward the library.

He aimed for the garden beyond, for the bracing cold outside to calm his nerves, but found the way blocked by two men headed in the same direction, clearly bent on a single purpose if the glance they shared meant anything. Alexi stopped in his tracks, the reminder he probably didn’t want to wander out there on his own right now snapping him from his panic.

He turned abruptly, found an empty chair and made for it, only to be thwarted by a surly looking man with dark hair and a darker expression. The man pivoted from peering out a window to flop into the chair before him.

“Well,” Alexi blurted, though he had no follow-up for it.

The man looked up at him. “Well?” His gaze shot past Alexi to the closed garden door and a scowl swept across his face.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Alexi said, trying to cover his blunder. “Alexander Silsbury.”

The man stared blankly up at him. “Your father is ill,” he said at last.

What did one say to that? “Yes.” Alexi rearranged a bit of lace at his cuff, searching for something else to say. A footman approached with a tray of champagne glasses and Alexi gratefully snagged one and sipped. The man in chair declined, indicating the still-full glass in his hand. He shifted in his seat and straightened his overcoat.

“I had forgotten,” the man said after the footman had passed, his voice slightly bored, slightly cutting, “how dreary these things could be.” His gaze came back to Alexi from where he’d been watching the men at one of the card tables. He flicked a look up and down Alexi’s body though his expression did not change. “And decadent, at the same time.”

Alexi couldn’t decide if he meant that in an intrigued way or a disgusted one. When his gaze once more flitted to the garden door and his sour expression deepened, Alexi decided his companion was decidedly not amused.

“Yes, I suppose that is true,” Alexi conceded. Once more, he fiddled with a bit of lace, taking a small amount of wicked pleasure in the fact the man could actually frown more deeply than he had already. “Some will take any excuse to mock tradition.” He smiled, a small, humourless expression and sipped his drink. “Shameful, really, and yet…” he shrugged. “Where would we be if tradition was all we had? Firmly entrenched in the dark ages, I think. No progress. No technology.” His companion’s expression lightened, ever so slightly and Alexi straightened inwardly. Everyone had a catch, and he had found this sour man’s hidden trigger. “Really, tradition is just another way to say control. Without progress, innovation,” he gave a delicate flick of his wrist and almost grinned at the way the man fought to control his expression, “we would be lost, would we not? I say sometimes, it’s better to accept the march of progress.” Enjoying himself, now, he turned slightly to glance toward the garden before leaning slightly toward his companion. “Embrace what makes us unique and to hell with following all of the rules all of the time. Where is the fun in that? So much can be accomplished when one decides to take that step beyond and try something new, yes?”

His companion said nothing for a moment, just looked at him, a new, less dour look in his eyes. Which, Alexi finally noticed, were a fascinating shade of blue.

“Excuse me.” A soft, sultry voice grabbed Alexi’s attention at the same time a firm grip grabbed his bottom.

He barely had time to react before the speaker had passed and was glancing back at him.

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing?”

Alexi blinked at this interloper, unsure if he was insulted or pleased with the comment. He didn’t get to decide, because at that moment, beyond the chair and the rest of the milling men, there was Leonard, standing in the library doorway glaring at the brash newcomer.

“Excuse me,” Alexi said, already moving off. Neither man paid him any heed as he slipped away from them.

“Leonard.” A pleased smile crept onto his face. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

“I said I could not attend on your arm, Alexi.” Leonard took him by the elbow and drew him to the far end of the room. “I had business to attend to. What trouble have you been getting yourself into?” He looked back to where the two men were conversing, a strange, fraught tension between them.

Alexi laughed, overwhelmed by the relief that Leonard was here. “None, I assure you, Leo.” He took stock of his friend’s stiff body language and hard glare, still fixed on the man who had fondled Alexi’s bottom. “You’ve been shopping again,” he said, his voice going soft as he touched his fingers to the brocade of Leonard’s waist coat.

Finally, Leonard’s attention came back to him. He took Alexi’s hand in his, removing it from his person and pushing it gently to Alexi’s side. “I have. Do you think it suits?”

“I think it’s quite daring, Leo. People’s tongues will wag.”

Leonard smiled down at him. “Aren’t you the one always preaching a departure from tradition, ‘Lexi? You like breaking rules, after all, and maybe, sometimes I tire of being the one to keep you in line.”

That set Alexi’s blood boiling. So many ways to interpret it. The night suddenly looked very different than it had a half hour ago, and Alexi smiled.

Jaime Samms Alexi Silsbury, Caleb Sutton, Emmett Montgomery, Leonard Stokes