Chapter Two
Nathaniel wakes with a start to the muted sounds of two scullery maids bustling around his bedchamber and groans in frustration at having been pulled from the quiet reprieve of sleep sooner than he thought it necessary to be. A set of thick, blood red curtains fall from the canopy of the four poster bed where he sleeps and he watches the movement of the women as they move about his room.
One is standing by the table, she appears to be unloading his breakfast from a small tray while the other lays out clothes, likely from Lady Allison, on the other end of the table by the basin he uses to wash himself.
A long, tedious day stretches before him, Allison will arrive soon, hopefully along with Renee who will sooth her excited temper, to prepare him for a day of receiving suitors in his Mother’s seldom used Drawing Room.
Despite his best efforts to irritate those around him into rejection last night Allison had chirpily told him on their parting last night that his day had still been booked full by hopeful idiots.
The only potential good news of the day was the announcement that Lord Minyard had also placed his name down on the calling list, hopefully by the time his afternoon slot occurred his Mother would have grown bored of pretending to care and vacated the room so that they could speak freely again.
He sits up and waits for the maids to quietly finish laying out his breakfast before he leaves the enclosed sanctuary of his bed and ventures into the world.
His room is perhaps the least grand of the house. He sleeps in a simple bed and keeps only a modest dresser and table in his room. It's all he has been permitted to own and in truth it is enough to keep Nathaniel content. It gives him the freedom to take meals alone when his Father does not request him and the ability to store a few possessions safely away from the meddling hands of his Father’s more trusted staff.
A small bland bowl of porridge is waiting for him on the table and he sits down to eat it, scraping the sides of the bowl with his spoon to ensure it's all eaten. The chances he’ll be allowed to eat any of the food prepared for the suitors is low and it will be a good many hours until the staff are permitted to bring him food again.
***
The Drawing Room has been rearranged, likely by Allison who is leaning back against a far chase grinning like the cat that got the cream while Lady Wesninski sulks silently in the opposite corner.
“Hello,” Nathaniel greets as he takes in the room. “This looks lovely.”
Where before the furniture had been crowded in an odd square that made conversation difficult, the pianoforte now sits to the left of the lounge where Nathaniel will be presented and a tray of tiny sandwiches and French pastries separates him from where the suitors will sit. It’s Allison’s clever way of ensuring no suitor will be forward enough to try and sit by him.
“Nathaniel,” Lady Allison is much too loud for so early in the morning, “cutting it close as always. Sit down and I’ll bring the first one in.” She checks the little book she keeps in her dress pocket, “A Lord Hawkins.”
Nathaniel grimaces but sits down, rearranging his coat in the way Allison taught him to highlight his thin waist. He can’t imagine much purpose for a thin waist but Allison had told him it was important.
The doors open revealing a long, stretching line of suitors, men and women alike, winding down the hallway and onto the staircase. The group perks up, leaning forward and peering around to see if they can win a glimpse of what they believe will be their prize come the evening.
Allison welcomes a giant of a man, he could be no less than 6 foot and is well adored with thick muscles, his smile is predatory and cruel and Nathaniel internally begs this man is reaching above his station in coming here and doesn’t have the means to contend for him properly.
He ambles his way onto the chase with little grace and stares unabashedly at Nathaniel , making him wish he’d forsaken Allison’s advice and worn something rather less appealing.
“Lord Nathaniel,” he greets, Allison and his Mother both look up affronted at the greeting. It’s a forward gesture to call him by his first name even with the inclusion of his title. “It's such a pleasure to make your acquaintance, I hope we’ll be spending more time together.”
“Perhaps.” He may have to adopt what he is going to playfully nickname the ‘Minyard Approach’, short and curt responses until the other party takes the hint. Hawking shifts his massive frame in his seat, he will soon learn that Nathaniel is far from the other blushing debutantes willing to cover for their partner’s lack of charm.
“You are enjoying the season, then?” Clearly Hawking hadn’t prepared to carry the conversation in any way, men such as he, who rely on their physicality and economic status to garner favour, rarely are.
“No.”
That seems to do it, Hawking shifts uncomfortably in his seat once more and reaches forward for one of Allison’s tiny sandwiches, he waves it in the air in a mock of a toast and then stuffs the whole thing into his enormous mouth.
The rest of his visit passes in awkward silence until Allison announces that his half hour is up and he hastily retreats through Allison’s cleverly planned second door. She thought leading the traumatised suitors back past their peers would thin the line too much.
***
Another ten or twenty suitors move through the room without much input from Nathaniel, some talk for their full thirty minutes, boring him with tales of their travels which could be perhaps marginally more interesting if they’d paid attention to anything other than themselves while they’d been overseas. Others flee after only ten minutes, and in an impressive show of cowardice, one Lady fled after only a measly two.
Allison is scowling in her chair, angrily chewing on a tiny scone and scattering crumbs over the creamy silk of her dress. His Mother had given up the farce of pretending to care some three or so suitors ago and wandered out to do whatever it is she does in her spare time, Nathaniel isn’t quite sure.
“Really Nathaniel!” Something is telling him Allison may be a tad upset. “Do you know how much time went into planning all this?” She picks up another of the pastries and tears into it with her teeth like she is Nathaniel with her words.
“I know your Father is planning your marriage for you but have you stopped for a single moment to consider your reputation?” Her voice is becoming increasingly shrill and Nathaniel wishes she’d move away from the butter knives.
“No.” Another Minyard approved response, hopefully his new friend will arrive soon and he’ll be able to show off his newly acquired talent.
“Okay.” Allison brings her hands up to cover her face, “What do you think your Father will do if you damage your reputation so thoroughly that no one will consider your hand in marriage as a feasible option, have you by any chance considered that?”
Allison settles back against her chair, munching in satisfaction as Nathaniel pales in understanding.
The answer is no, Nathaniel hadn’t but now that Allison has brought it to his attention it's a hauntingly real possibility. He knows as well as Allison does that Nathaniel will be killed before he is allowed to bring shame onto his Father.
“I’ll do better,” he whispers, “from this next suitor, I promise.” Allison nods and then stands to let the next suitor in.
***
Prince Riko Moriyama is going to make Nathaniel break his word before his time is up.
Riko and Nathaniel despite their close proximity in childhood had never made each other’s acquaintance until now. Riko had spent his childhood under the tutelage of his uncle in Europe, always the spare and never the heir and all that and yet with the way he is able to talk about himself for minutes on end you’d think no one had ever told him.
He’d nearly knocked Allison over on his way into the room, sneering at her irritated huff and settling himself on the same lounge as Nathaniel despite Allison’s protestations and Nathaniel’s obvious discomfort at the proximity.
“So Nathaniel.” Even more forward than Hawking. “I’ve been in discussion with your Father in recent weeks.” Both Allison and Nathaniel tense. “He’s been so very accommodating.”
He reaches across the lounge as if to grab at Nathaniel’s thigh, a self-satisfied grin creeping across his face, knowing that Nathaniel won’t risk Nathan’s wrath by moving away when the doors to the Drawing Room slam open with a resounding bang.
On the threshold stands Lord Andrew Minyard, his face is apathetic and yet somehow also angry in that peculiar way he has mastered.
“Riko,” he greets, “get out.” When Riko huffs at the affront, blowing his chest out in what Nathaniel is sure will be another grand speech about his standing, Lord Minyard says, firmer than before, “Now.”
Riko stands from the chase, rebuttons his coat and then makes his way towards the doors where Lord Minyard stands. Nathaniel is foolish enough for a moment to think a man such as Riko Moriyama would allow another to instruct him and lets out a relieved sigh only to take it back in when Riko tries to slap Lord Minyard across the face.
“How dare you.”
It's out before he realises it, a reprimand to someone both older than him and above his station, if he has caused offence already he may as well express himself fully. He stands so that he may be on more even footing should Riko’s vile temper make another display.
“You think to come into my home and insult my guests? Not only have you displayed manners so foul and unbecoming that one would assume you were little more than a carriage man let alone a Prince but you’ve offend both Lady Reynolds and myself with your horrifically and obviously fabricated tales of grandeur that not even the most poorly school child would think to concoct. Get out before you bring even more embarrassment to your family’s name, not that anyone would know to associate you with them.”
Nathaniel lets out a small huff, satisfied with himself and watches as Riko points a threatening finger in his direction and leaves, slamming the doors shut behind him.
“That’s quite the tongue you have, Lord Wesninski,” Lord Minyard comments with an air of amusement that settles Nathaniel’s bones back into his body. He hadn’t stopped to think if his quick temper would sully his newest friend’s opinion of him.
Allison lets out a sharp laugh and settles herself back onto the chase from where she’d stood in shock, “You should hear him when he yells at the Duke Kevin Day. That's a proper offence to the ear, the Prince only earnt himself a taste of Nathaniel’s truer temper.”
“You are acquainted with the Duke?” Andrew asks coming to sit on the lounge intended for the suitors.
“Yes, we’ve been friends since we were very young, our Mothers were friends, I believe, but when his Mother died he travelled to Europe with the Prince for a while before returning when he was injured in a fencing accident.” Nathaniel fiddles with the sleeves of his shirt for distractions, the other suitors had been easy to ignore or bully but he found he did not want Lord Minyard to find him unassuming or dull. He wanted to impress the man before him while he had the time to.
Andrew nods contemplatively.
“My brother is calling on him today, they met last night.”
“I wasn’t aware Kevin was in London,” Nathaniel says, it's almost a question. It was unlike Kevin to return to London, least of all a ball at which Nathaniel hosted and not speak with him.
“They were rather enamoured with each other I believe, don’t fault him for not approaching you.” Lord Minyard seems disgusted with the idea of his brother and Kevin, so much so that he slowly and meticulously picks apart a sugary pastry and feeds it to himself, crumb by crumb.
“Lord Minyard-” Nathaniel begins
“Andrew.” Lord Minyard cuts in.
“Pardon me, Lor-”
“Call me Andrew. If we are to be friends, or to-” He pauses as if assessing the truth of the words before he says them, “-court, I wish you to be familiar with me.”
Nathaniel blushes, it's forward but it feels true in way few things in his farce of a life do.
“Andrew then.” Andrew’s ears heat red and Nathaniel wonders if the room is too hot and he should have Allison call for cold refreshments. “Call me Nathaniel, if you please.” The room must be hot because Andrew’s neck is now red too and he asks Allison to procure some for them.
“Nathaniel it is then.” Andrew agrees.
Andrew stays a full hour and they converse with both meaning and humour. Andrew reveals that he prefers the countryside due to the lack of people and Nathaniel agrees, he tells Nathaniel that he enjoys sweets and clucks in disapproval when Nathaniel disagrees with his taste.
He tells stories of his brother and his ineptitude at all things social but his desperate desire to study medicine in France. He speaks of his cousin, the Duke Nicolas, who wishes to move to Germany to be with his husband but who has not been able to shed his title since his parent’s passing and is as such trapped in England.
Nathaniel trades his own truths, he carefully discloses his distaste for his parents and his own desperate desire to be free. He doesn’t tell Andrew about how his Father is always angry, just that he is stern, he doesn’t reveal what lurks beneath his coat, only that he has never understood the want for a tighter fashion. He doesn’t tell Andrew about his Father’s plans for his future either, not ready to disclose the truths that will ruin him forever in his new friend’s eyes.
When the hour is up Andrew takes his leave. He stands and quietly stares at Allison until she turns around to peruse the paintings on the wall offering them a smidge more privacy than before when she’d needed to monitor their topics of conversation.
“I brought you something, if that’s not too forward.” Andrew admits
“I think we may be past benign too forward,” Nathaniel replies, almost anxious to see what Andrew could have possibly brought him.
“It may be conceited but you mentioned that you’d never travelled. I thought I might leave you with one of my journals from the Americas, it has some of my sketches inside.” He thrusts a worn leather bound journal into Nathaniel’s hands. “If it's of no interest to you-”
“No,” Nathaniel interrupts, “it's a thoughtful gift. Thank you.” He can feel his cheeks heating, but before he can understand why he is reacting in such a way Andrew offers a quick bow, and wishes him well before making a hasty retreat into the hall and down the stairs.
“Well, Nathaniel,” Allison coos, “I’ve never known you to be so forward with someone so new, you must have taken a liking to him.”
Nathaniel blushes, this time he can identify the accompanying emotion; embarrassment.
“Quiet, it's too late in the day for such teasing.” Allison bounces down onto the lounge beside him and pulls him down so his head is in her lap. It's closer than they should ever be and a pure affront to polite society but behind closed doors Allison and Nathaniel have never cared to keep up pretences.
“You like him, Nathaniel, don’t lie to me.” Allison runs a manicured hand through his styled curls.
He covers his face with his hands and groans as Allison recounts his entire conversation with Andrew back to him dotted with her opinions and observations. Eventually they break apart for dinner and Nathaniel returns to his rooms and falls asleep thinking of what it would be like to spend time with Andrew as he does with Allison.