by Megan Derr
"If you already love my home that much, sir, then I am more than half-convinced we shall carry on very well," Terrell replied. He stubbornly ignored the images that once again tried to rise up as he thought about them 'carrying on well'. Whatever the intimacies that might rise up between them, it was far too soon to worry about it at present.
Anyway, Edlin was older than he. It was not outside the realm of reason—in fact was entirely likely—that Edlin had a lover, someone who satisfied those things a practical marriage might not. It was completely unreasonable and impractical for that thought to knot his stomach, and so he dismissed the entire thing from his mind, pushing away the remains of his breakfast and finishing his tea. Seeing that he was finished, Edlin drank the rest of his own tea and rang for the servants to clear everything away. Setting down his napkin, he rose and extended a hand, fingers warm and unfashionably calloused as they curled around Terrell's to assist him.
"Shall we to the wines, then, my dear?"
Terrell nodded, slowly pulling his hand away as Edlin released it. They left the breakfast room and strode down the main hallway to the entryway, pulling on their outdoor clothes before Bart opened the door and bowed them out. Two horses waited: a handsome roan stallion and his own favorite chestnut mare. The weather was, of course, perfect—no sign of the storm that had ruined his arrival remained. But annoyance was impractical and would only ruin his mood and the good impression he was struggling to make, so Terrell set it aside and rode out alongside Edlin to the vineyards.
The vineyards went on for acres and boasted no less than eight different kinds of grapes. The entire region was famous for its wine and none was better known or more respected than Fivecoats. Although his father was an Earl who should have married titled, no one had looked askance or even blinked when he had instead married the only daughter and heir to Master Fivecoats. People had been astonished, however, when he had not immediately assumed all control of Fivecoats, but left his wife to run the estate as she saw fit—and only seemed to approve when upon her death it was revealed that she had left Fivecoats to her youngest child.
At the heart of the vineyards was the enormous warehouse where the barrels and casks were stored, the wine made, and those persons who visited the vineyards were taken. The receiving hall was beautiful, with expensive, yet rustic tables scattered about, and cushions and tablecloths of the finest fabrics and richest colors. The windows were all stained glass, portraying workers in the fields, bottles of wine, grapes, sunrises, sunsets—his mother had loved this place, and it was where his father had proposed.
Charles waited for them at the long, worn but well-tended counter where wines were sampled. Several bottles and many crystal glasses were set out for the tasting. "Master Terri, Master Edlin."
"Charles," Terrell greeted, smiling. "How is your family doing?"
"Wife still giving orders, children still bleeding me dry," Charles replied cheerfully. "It's good to have you home again, sir. Your man already has the place running tiptop, but it's not the same 'round Fivecoats without you."
Terrell refused to feel relieved that he had not been entirely replaced; it was silly to think such a thing, just because Edlin was doing so well with it. He wanted a husband who would run Fivecoats; that was the entire point. Anything else was impractical, including his fit of ego. "It is good to be home, if only briefly. By winter, though, I should be home for good."
"We will celebrate appropriately," Charles replied, then poured a white wine into two glasses for them and pushed the glasses across the counter.
And so it went until Terrell lost track of all the wines they sampled, his head feeling almost as though it were floating. He stumbled as he walked to the door, nearly crashing to the floor, only to be caught by a sure arm and pulled flush against Edlin's side. He reddened, murmuring his thanks without quite being able to meet Edlin's gaze. Outside, he waved his horse away, nodding in agreement as Edlin requested a footman take them back to the stables and leave them to walk. He looked down, briefly puzzled as Edlin took his hand—forward, quite forward, but the words of protest wouldn't leave his throat.
Instead, Terrell looked out over the land, the vineyards, the workers, the distant mountains. It really was nice to be home again; he got so immersed in his studies that he tended to forget how much he missed being at Fivecoats. At the moment, school seemed a very distant thing.
And, as the hand holding his tightened briefly, Edlin was a very close thing. Unable to stop himself Terrell turned to look up at Edlin. He flushed as their eyes met, realizing that Edlin had been watching him all along. He tried to think of something to say, but Edlin spoke first. "I am glad I've not upset or angered you so far. As I said earlier, I am very good at taking over and running roughshod over people, although I never mean to. This is your home; if you ever feel I am taking over and leaving you out, you must say."
"No," Terrell said, embarrassed because he had felt that way earlier in the morning. "If I feel left out, that is my problem—and only what I deserve for being away for so long. Fivecoats needs someone who can and will take care of it. I am very academic and hardly the practical—"
"There's that word again," Edlin murmured, silencing Terrell with a finger to his lips and drawing them to a halt. "I swear, your family motto is 'Practicality above all else', although your father swears it is not." He smiled teasingly. "I think I should make it my husbandly duty to see to it you do at least one impractical thing a day."
Embarrassed, Terrell drew back, annoyed that the feel of Edlin's finger against his lips lingered. "Well, I can hardly describe the amount of wine we just imbibed as practical."
Edlin made a scoffing noise, his grip on Terrell's hand tightening when Terrell tried to resume walking. "We own a vineyard; it is only practical we sample what we sell—and most of those are to be served at the betrothal reception in two days. No, you cannot get away with calling that impractical, my dear."
"I do not see what is so wrong with being practical," Terrell countered. "Impracticality only leads to trouble."
"Only when one is impractical to excess," Edlin winked. "In small doses, it does no harm, and possibly even good."
Terrell frowned up at him, freeing his hand and crossing his arms over his chest, still feeling too lightheaded with wine to get as annoyed as he otherwise would. "You will not leave off, will you?"
"Already learning how stubborn I can be?" Edlin smiled. "No, I will not. One impractical thing." His tone was teasing, cajoling—it suddenly occurred to Terrell that maybe he was flirting, but what was the point of that? They were already betrothed and in two days the reception would make it formal—final. There was no reason for Edlin to flirt with him. Abruptly really and truly annoyed, Terrell demanded, "What impractical thing should I do today, then?"
Edlin smiled in a way that sent awareness prickling along Terrell's skin, made something hot stir low in his gut. He shivered as Edlin cupped his face, drew him close—and kissed him. He opened his mouth on a gasp of surprise, making a startled noise as Edlin took that as permission—
Gods above, it must have been the wine that made his head spin so, made him lose balance and cling to Edlin for support, lean into him. Definitely impractical, he thought dizzily, to be kissing Edlin while they were barely more than strangers—and in the middle of a public road where anyone might see them acting so crassly—
Terrell jerked away and drew a sharp breath, face hot and lips swollen, staring bemusedly up at the far more together-looking Edlin. And that annoyed him beyond even the kiss itself—Edlin could at least have the decency to look as—as—as out of sorts as Terrell felt. Oh, what was the matter with him?
Edlin laughed softly. "Here I thought I stood a good chance of being firmly set down for my forward behavior." He reached up and rubbed Terrell's lips with his thumb. "You really are more than I dared hope." Before Terrell could figure out what that meant or how to ask Edlin to explain, he was being kissed again.
He really should have protested,
taken issue, both for the deed and the location—but his mind wasn't listening, completely overruled by the rest of him. His hands moved to grip Edlin's shoulders as he stepped closer, pulling them flush together. He moaned softly as fingers slid into his hair, Edlin's other arm wrapping around his waist—
The sound of someone coughing loudly made him jerk back. Face red, he looked up at his father's secretary, Geoffrey. How in the world had he missed the man riding up the road toward them? Looking faintly amused, Geoffrey said, "Master Terrell, your father has just arrived, along with your brother and sister. They await you and Master Edlin at the house, whenever you should care to join them." He touched the brim of his hat, then turned and rode off. Terrell swore he could hear Geoffrey laughing.
Slowly he looked back at Edlin, who smirked and said, "I suppose that is enough impracticality—for the moment, anyway." Extending his arm in offer and smiling in what seemed genuine pleasure when Terrell took it, Edlin began to chat idly of the work he did for his father, their plans for the reception and eventually the ball and wedding, as they walked back to the house.
By the time they arrived, it was nearly as though nothing had happened on that road. Terrell was relieved, because now he was almost relaxed enough to act like himself—but also confused. Had it really been so easy for Edlin to dismiss the kisses? Had they meant so—
Terrell was being ridiculous again. Kisses amounted to nothing. Edlin had been bold, presumptuous—but those were good things for a businessman to be. No doubt someone so—well, he was sure that Edlin was no stranger to stealing kisses. There was no good reason whatsoever for Terrell to be troubled that Edlin was clearly no stranger to forgetting about those kisses either.
It was only, Terrell assured himself, that he was not used to such attentions. Dalliances were a frivolous, impractical waste of time at school. He had no time or desire for such things, not when his focus must be on his studies. His few indulgences had been confined to visits to suitable establishments whenever school was on break. But his lack of more worldly experience obviously showed, and he would have to overcome that. If Edlin could be so casual and—and dismissive, then he would be as well. Edlin had been teasing him, playing with him, with all that nonsense of one impractical thing a day. Now it was over and done.
Shoving the pointless thoughts aside, Terrell focused on the reunion with his family and preparing for the reception two days hence.
Four
"What do you mean, you're married?" Terrell demanded, nearly dropping his teacup.
Kirian rolled his eyes and fought a smile—because if he smiled, then Terrell would likely decide the only practical thing to do was clap him soundly 'bout the ears. "Last I checked, Terrell, married really only means one thing."
"Yes, but you?" Terrell was still shocked and outraged. "What the bloody hell, Kir? I was gone for a week and I come back to you married! I know you are impulsive and reckless, but you are not the sort to marry on a moment. Whatever is going on?"
Pouring himself more tea, Kirian added cream and sugar, stirred it round, and took a swallow. When he could begin to feel Terrell's glare, he finally explained the ultimatum that Grayson had issued.
"The man should be tossed right out the gates," Terrell said angrily. "To think he dared presume to have the right—"
Kirian stood as Terrell did, catching him up and pushing him back down into his seat. He pressed firmly on his shoulders to ensure he would remain there. "Honestly, I swear it's fine. It's not—well, it's not like I couldn't have gotten out of it, right?"
Terrell made a noise of agreement, mind clearly on all the ways he could bring a professor to task for severe misconduct. But then he seemed to really hear what Kirian had said and looked up at him, scowling, "Yes, Kir. Why did you not tell him you are Frederick Cloud? You would have been free and clear—"
"But then what would have happened to Evelyn?" Kirian cut in. "I could not leave him like that—"
"He is not your responsibility!" Terrell snapped. "You are being—"
"Impractical?" Kirian finished for him, smiling. "Perhaps, but it doesn't feel like the wrong thing."
Terrell frowned. "What the devil does that mean?"
Kirian hesitated, not certain how to put it into words—that longing on Evelyn's face, the pain when he asked about Kirian's parents. "I—it's not the marriage I wanted, but it's only for a few years, and then we can dissolve it and go our separate ways. Aren't you always trying to get me to be more practical? Isn't this right in line with gentlemanly behavior?" He gave a coaxing smile and added teasingly, "I could do much worse than the son of a duke."
"You're hung up on something," Terrell said, frown turned thoughtful. "What?"
"I don't know, not exactly," Kirian replied, not attempting to deny it. Terrell always saw straight through him. "It's only…" He hesitated again, frowning at his tea. Then he looked up at Terrell and asked quietly, "You said there was some scandal in his past. What happened?"
Terrell's brows shot up, no doubt surprised that Kirian was inquiring after gossip, but did not call him out on it; he only pursed his lips in thought. "Honestly, I do not know the details, and I've not heard about it for years so I don't know that I remember…oh! It was a marriage, how could I forget that in the face of these circumstances? They say he fell enamored of an artist, you know the sort—pretty, penniless, living indulgently and carelessly. They were going to run away together, but—"
"Evelyn's father offered the bastard money to go away and he accepted, didn't he?" Kirian finished.
"Yes. The whole matter was neatly handled, swept under the rug, and very little whispering heard about it. But Lord Thiering has been estranged from his family since, or so they say." He stared hard at Kirian.
Kirian glared at him. "What?"
"You are playing hero," Terrell accused. "I can see it in your face. You are gone on the romance of it all and want to save him—"
"I want him to like me, not Frederick!" Kirian snapped—then flinched as he realized what he had just given away.
Terrell's mouth gaped open, before he closed it with an audible click and chuckled. "You are smitten."
"Says the man wearing a jacket meant to match his pretty new amethysts and sporting an engagement ring to make a Duchess jealous," Kirian drawled—then howled with laughter as Terrell's cheeks turned red. "Never say! Mr. Romance is Impractical is smitten with his fiancé. I don't believe it. I guess he is that charming after all. No wonder we are talking about me and not at all about your trip home. How was it? Tell me, tell me."
"Be quiet," Terrell said irritably. "I am not smitten. We got on fine, it's true. He will do quite well at Fivecoats, I feel certain."
Kirian smirked. "You're smitten."
"I am not."
"Oh, really? Your face is crimson, which clashes horribly with that dark violet jacket by the way, and I have never known you to be that easily embarrassed by anything. So how charming was he, hm? Steal a kiss or two?" He howled again as Terrell's face grew redder still. "How amusing! You have turned away more 'kisses' than I can count—"
"Dalliances are hardly practical given my academic course and the pressures therein," Terrell retorted stiffly. "It is hardly remarkable that I would permit a few kisses from a man I am going to marry."
Kirian smirked. "A few, is it? One or two is practical, but a few is just indulgent."
"Oh, shut up," Terrell said. "So I am getting on with my fiancé—at least I am not married to a man because my teacher ordered it and my impulsive heroics could not resist."
"Oh, shut up," Kirian echoed cheerfully. "Look on the positive side of it, Terri. I have been so busy arranging the marriage, then getting married, then moving my belongings, to get into so much as a single duel. Everyone else has been too busy gossiping to trouble me. Marriage is clearly good for me, eh?"
Terrell rolled his eyes, but did not deign to reply to that. "So where are you and your new husband living, Kir?" he asked instead.
"Just off Orchi
d Row; Evelyn has rooms there," Kirian replied, mind flitting to that morning. He had woken up early, for once having gone to bed at a decent hour. He had gone to see if Evelyn was awake, but found him dead to the world—and naked. As frosty as Evelyn could be awake, it had not occurred to Kirian that in the privacy of his bedchamber all that ice might melt away. Overly warm, Evelyn had shoved aside the bedclothes and lay sprawled across his large bed, all pale, warm skin, his bright hair tumbling everywhere, half-obscuring his face. Kirian had very badly wanted to exercise his marital rights, to taste that skin and see what kind of noises he could extract, leave those pale lips wet and swollen and bruised—
Instead, he had been forced to return to his own room and take himself in hand. Unfortunately, it had not helped much; he still very badly wanted to pin Evelyn down and explore every last bit of him.
"Well, the room shall be quite lonely without you," Terrell remarked, finishing a pastry and wiping his fingers on his napkin. "But we've only a few months left, at that." He looked suddenly sad. "If your whole marriage scheme works, you will be gone for some time on that Tour. I will miss you."
"And I you," Kirian replied, feeling a sudden pang. It had never really struck him before that school was nearly done and soon their paths would diverge. "But I will be back before you know it and will expect an invitation to Fivecoats."
Terrell smiled. "You know you've an open invitation; that will never change."
"Good." Kirian finished his tea and reached for the pot to pour more—then froze as he saw a familiar face enter the dining hall. He smiled warmly when their gazes met and stood up in greeting as Evelyn crossed the room. Extending a hand, he took Evelyn's and squeezed it briefly, affectionately, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek. He fought the urge to steal a kiss that would be wholly inappropriate. "Good morning, Evelyn."
