What's life without a little scandal
"Mr Lensharr, may I present my ward, Miss Darkholme," Charles said smoothly, a hand at Raven's elbow. She was sullen, but as he had warned her time and again, better to conform to the constraints of society, in every little particular, than to expose oneself to deeper scrutiny. It was not so very long ago that people like them were condemned as witches and heretics; Lord only knew what might become of them should their secrets be uncovered.
Charles knew all too well from his rather more intimate than usual acquaintance with the human mind that the more exulted one's position in life to begin with, the more cruelly society would delight in one's downfall. He would be damned before he would see that happen to Raven and himself, and that meant he must refrain from playing the eccentric lordling who allowed scandal on his doorstep. He and Raven must fit in, as best they could; their relationship was already talked of enough, without their doing anything else to bring attention to themselves. Even with his power, Charles could only do so much to repel gossip, and they could not afford for anyone to search too deeply.
"A pleasure, Miss Darkholme," Erik said, smooth as polished silver, and finally was Raven coaxed into a smile by his chivalry.
"I like him, brother," she said archly. "He is a gentleman, unlike those louts you insisted on keeping company with in your Oxford days. You could do far worse," and Erik laughed, despite Charles's mortification at the insolence of his younger sister's tongue.
'Raven,' he thought sharply, 'contain yourself, we are in polite society.'
"Do not be too harsh on her," Erik said, with his usual shrewd intuition at their expressions. "She is young, after all. Go, Miss Darkholme, do not let yourself be bored by us old men; is that not your particular friend Miss Salvadore I see?"
"It is indeed!" Raven responded, casting a smug smile at her long-suffering companion. "It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr Lensharr. Brother."
She danced away, and Charles sighed, fond despite himself. "I am afraid you will spoil her, my friend," he said, reproachful but not quite so much as he might have intended.
'And I am afraid, my dearest Charles,' Erik thought at him, staring deep into his eyes in a way that near hypnotised, compelled Charles not to look away while instilling a desperation to do just that, 'that you allow your fear to bind you, and fail to appreciate just how marvelous a creature you could be if only you would allow yourself the freedom.'
And Charles flushed, because Raven's impropriety he could handle, but Erik, for all his social graces, knew not the meaning of shame, and he made Charles want to be scandalous. Never mind drawing attention by eccentricity; Erik made him want things that were downright sinful, against the laws of man and nature, base and unrefined. Erik made him want to forget society entirely, form a society of their own, a society where one could be whatever one chose, whether that be a Jew, a witch or, God forbid, an invert.
Erik made him want.
But because Charles was who he was, and who he was was a coward, he forced a laugh and said, "And I fear even more, dear Mr Lensharr, that you shall be the end of me."