Page 4

To say I was caught off guard was an understatement of the highest order.

Whatever Charles had been saying was lost on me, and it took all my strength not to stop dead in my tracks at the sight of Arthur, who was regarding us with that same haughty look as before.

I remembered what Felix had said, that it was a product of nothing more than an inherited mien, and considered that perhaps this was the truth before I was immediately proven correct in my first impression.

After surveying us for a few more moments, Arthur turned and went down the far set of stairs on his own, a clear lack of friendliness in his actions.

“Is he usually so rude?” I asked, looking at Charles, and not bothering to keep my voice down, half hoping Arthur heard me.

Charles was watching his brother walk down the stairs and I could read the confusion on his face, which was answer enough to my question. “Does he have a reason not to like me?”

“Not that I know of,” Charles said, looking back at me briefly before walking towards the stairs on our side. “Unless… he does know that you’re, well….”

“Lower class,” I supplied, knowing perfectly well that it was how Charles was going to end his sentence. “But presumably he’s always known that?”

“He has, and he’s never acted as though it was an issue before,” Charles said, dragging his thumb over his chin. “Have you been in the papers lately?”

“Not recently,” I said, thinking back over the cases of the last few months.

My time in court was hardly revolutionary, mostly small criminal cases, the very occasional murder.

Rarely did I make the papers, and even then it was mostly just reporting on whatever case I had managed to win or lose, hardly even mentioning my name.

“I haven’t done anything of note, either. Nothing to offend his lordship.”

“Well, maybe don’t call him ‘his lordship’ to his face,” Charles said, stopping at the bottom of the stairs and turning to look up at me. “We’ll figure it out, Tom. If he hates you, well… we can go to Brighton for the summer.”

I laughed despite myself and followed him into the dining room, finding that the table was set and laden with every sort of summer dish you could possibly desire.

It was clear that even if the lord of the manor was not a fan of mine, Charles had done everything he could to make my first dinner in the house an amazing one.

Arthur was standing near the fireplace at the far end of the room, talking animatedly with Felix, and for a moment I recalled that before being head butler Felix had been Arthur’s manservant, a position that no doubt meant they were closer than I could have anticipated.

Still, I was once again caught off guard when Arthur looked at me, that almost revolted look in his green eyes, and then said something to Felix, who bowed his head and left the room.

“Have a seat,” Charles said, settling into the plush chair to the right of his brother’s at the head of the table.

The only other seat with a place set was at Arthur’s left side, a position that put me in terribly close proximity to the man, and for a moment I considered how rude it would be to drag my chair to the far end of the table across from Arthur before deciding that it had never been in my nature to run before, so I certainly wouldn’t do it now.

Instead, I sat where Charles had indicated, carefully unfolding the cloth napkin to the side of the plate and laying it across my lap. “What were you telling Felix?”

Arthur hesitated near the fireplace before moving to his seat, sitting down and looking as prim and proper as I expected a lord to be.

Even in the dim light of the dining room with only gas sconces to see him by, even after the way he’d been looking at me all evening, I couldn’t help but be aware of his beauty.

It was a damn shame that he had such a haughty expression, because he was a genuinely wonderful man to behold.

His lips were full and rosy, his jaw well-defined and sporting the late-day stubble that spoke to a sort of virility that I enjoyed in a man.

His blond hair, perfectly curly, was exactly in the fashion of the time, cut close to the nape of his neck but still with that delicate wave that was sported by so many of the actors who graced the London stages.

In the soft light, his green eyes were so dark they were nearly emerald, and I found myself wishing he would look at me despite knowing I would find at most disdain there.

“I was informing him that I would prefer it if our guest’s papers were not placed in my library,” Arthur said, and to hear him speak was just as conflicting as the desire to have his eyes on me.

The disregard in his voice, the sheer disinterest, filled my heart with a sort of ire I rarely succumbed to, but the sound of it…

. Melodic, perfectly polished, a timbre that would undoubtedly thrill me to the bone were it to whisper my name in my ear.

That was the first night I had to force down the hunger that threatened to consume me, and while I have at times wished I had done a better job at it, I have no complaints now.