Day Seven
Day Seven:
On the seventh day of Winterfic, Hazel gave to you, a Leo/Logan/Finn Bridgerton AU. Part One.
In short, Logan didn’t want to be the diamond of the season. He had no interest in the balls, or the white tuxedos and gowns that those eligible wore, or the deep bow he’d been trained in (and perfected, he couldn’t resist adding) since the age of seven. He didn’t need attention from the royal family, and he didn’t need a husband. He was perfectly capable of having affairs of his own—even if those so-called affairs, a red-headed one in particular—were scandalously below his rank. He could hear his mother’s voice in his head. Do you understand what you’re going to inherit one day, Logan? You’ll need a partner who can assist you, not one who is only too happy to be sleeping in a feather bed for once in their life.
“Arms out, please, my Lord.”
Logan sighed and did as he was told from where he was standing on the tailor’s pedestal. He studied the new, white set of tails in the triptych, full-length mirror. The three panels made him feel surrounded, and by himself, no less—the worst sort of being stared down.
“Look at that,” came his sister’s voice suddenly. “No wonder any self-respecting family would simply die to have those green eyes of yours appear in their heir one day. Oh, I’m sorry, did I say family? I meant any long-sheltered, child-wanting youth.”
“Do shut up,” Logan said, and looked at the tailor. “Are we almost finished, Mr. Bell?”
Mr. Bell, who had been fitting Logan since he was small, smiled at him in the mirror. “Yes, sir, almost.”
“Aw,” Noelle sighed, falling into one of the plush couches. Logan looked at her in the mirror. She was wearing a simple dress, as usual. None of the frill that seemed so in fashion these days. It was green though, like most things that the Tremblay siblings owned tended to be. “My little diamond. I remember my year. I won the season, you know.”
“I’m not the diamond. No one is, yet.”
“Yes, but Lady Whistledown predicted it might be you, so…”
“And last week she reprimanded me for my rakish habits. So…”
Noelle laughed. “God, you’re so difficult. I wonder how anyone puts up with you.”
Logan didn’t reply, just studied his own eyes in the mirror. It was something that worried him too much to have anything to say about.
“Finished, my Lord,” Mr. Bell said, and Logan shrugged out of the white jacket with relief. If he had to stare at himself for another second…
“Thank you,” Logan said, especially gentle. God, you’re so difficult. Noelle rose too as Logan retrieved his jacket and hat. He glanced back at her as they left the shop, bell tinkling above the door. “What, are you following me?”
“No,” Noelle said, stepping out into the summer air beside him. “But that’s not to say mother didn’t tell me over breakfast this morning that she’s worried you’ll bolt before the ball tonight.”
Logan tipped his hat to a few passing girls, shopping for ribbons, who giggled and stared at him as they passed—just to make Noelle roll her eyes. Which she did.
“I’m still deciding where to run away to,” Logan replied, then offered his sister his arm.
“Well, don’t.” Noelle took it and squeezed. “Don’t tell Sydney or Audrey, but you’re my favorite brother.”
“I’m your only brother.”
“Just my favorite, then.”
The Tremblay’s town house was one of the grandest on the street, though Logan missed the manor. The countryside offered more places to secret one’s self away. And for how flamboyant Lady Whistledown made Logan out to be, there was really very little he enjoyed more than privacy. Privacy that included select…acquaintances.
“Welcome back, Lord and Lady Tremblay,” said one of the butlers upon their arrival, and Logan and Noelle nodded their thanks.
“It always makes us sound—” Noelle began.
“As though we’re married?” Logan offered, and they laughed as they relieved themselves of their coats.
“Well,” Noelle said as they walked further into the house. “I’m going to see if anyone’s up for a game of cards. Care for it?”
“Uh, no.” Logan was already looking in the direction of the door that lead to the servant’s staircase. “No, I’m—hungry. I’m going to see if the kitchen has anything they’d be willing to part with before tea.”
“Logan.”
At the tone of her voice, Logan looked at her. “Noelle.”
“Don’t,” Noelle said quietly. Standing there, she looked just as he remembered her looking, always. Even when he had been a little boy. Brown hair pinned loosely at the back of her neck. The green eyes that they shared, soft, always soft with him. “Don’t. Not today.”
“What?” Logan replied, more harshly. “I’m not doing anything.”
“That’s not true.”
“It’s none of your business. None of your business at all, what I do.”
“I’m not saying it for you, I’m saying it for him.” She nodded towards the stairs. “It isn’t fair of you. Especially today. Everyone knows what the ceremony is like at the ball, and everyone knows what it means. Even the servants.”
“Oh? And what exactly does it mean?”
“Marriage,” Noelle said. “Eventually, to some Lord or Lady. Not a kitchen boy. You know this. So don’t. Don’t go see him. It’s cruel.”
Logan took a step forward. “And what if I want to marry him?”
“That’s ridiculous.” Noelle sighed. “I wish it wasn’t, but it is. He works in the kitchen, Lo. You really expect—”
She cut off as a maid came through. Logan didn’t know why. They heard everything anyway. But Logan used the silence to escape. He didn’t look at her as he held the door to the servant’s stairs open for the maid (Oh, goodness, thank you, my Lord) and then went through himself.
He could hear the kitchens before he saw them. The clank of pots, the cooks shouting instructions to each other. Chopping and sizzling and laughter. He was greeted with curtsies and bows by the few servants he passed as he walked down the corridor, and he stopped just beyond those within the kitchen’s view, just outside the doorway. He liked, at first, to be able to peer in and see what they all were up to.
He liked to see what Finn was up to.
They were preparing sandwiches for tea, and Finn was making the others laughed as they passed the ingredients around to be assembled. Logan smiled to himself as he watched, taking Finn in. His red hair was fluffed up from the heat of the stoves and ovens, and he had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, apron tied neatly around his waist.
Logan looked forward to this moment every day. He loved how, if he stood there for long enough, eyes on Finn, Finn would eventually look up and meet his gaze. As if he could feel Logan standing there. Now, while holding butter and and a piece of bread, his eyes flicked up and found Logan’s instantly. Logan grinned and strode in.
“Oh, well,” said the head chef, Mrs. Hawkaway, with a warm smile. “Stars, I swore I just fed you breakfast, my Lord.”
Logan had been mockingly scolded by that Scottish accent for his entire life. He liked that they were all used to him visiting the kitchen and talking with them. He’d been doing it long before Finn had arrived. It made it easier to see him and avoided the suspicious looks as to why exactly he fancied the downstairs so much, so suddenly.
“And it was lovely, Mrs. Hawk,” Logan said, going over to kiss her cheek. “But don’t you know how hungry town makes a man?”
“Well, I’m sure,” Mrs. Hawk patted his cheek fondly. “But, as you can see, tea will be served in hardly a half hour.”
“Oh, yes, I see now,” Logan said. He didn’t look at Finn as he made his way over to the work table that he and the others were gathered around. He did, however, come to a stop at Finn’s shoulder. He could all but feel him fighting a smile as he set aside another perfectly made sandwich.
“Might I steal one?” Logan asked no one in particular.
“My Lord,” Finn said, and gestured to what he knew was Logan’s favorite. Ham and mustard. “Please.”
“And are you pleased by the ball tonight, my Lord?” Mrs. Hawk asked. “We’re all very thrilled for you downstairs. What a chance, to be presented before the Queen.”
“Ah,” Logan shrugged as he chewed, still walking around, still catching Finn’s eye every once in a while. “It all feels like lots of fuss, and you know me. I’d rather be…” Logan trailed off.
This was another problem he had with himself. He wasn’t the eldest, so he didn’t have the same…purpose, he supposed. Not like Noelle did. And his other sisters had found what they wanted from life. They had passions. They filled their days. They did so much more than just stand to inherit. So far, all he’d figured out was that he was very good at walking away the days. He looked at Finn who, like the others, was waiting patiently for him to finish.
And apparently very good and wanting things he couldn’t have.
“Well,” Logan tried to smile. “I’d rather be doing something else. Who knows what.”
There were a few sniggers, which Mrs. Hawk hushed. But Logan was used to that. Of course they found it ridiculous, these people who worked hard for their lives, that he had so much and yet—not much of anything.
“I’m sure,” Finn spoke suddenly. “That my Lord is fit for a great many things.”
There was no humor in Finn’s eyes. Only kindness, and maybe some sympathy. Finn had, after all, heard Logan talk about this many times. An aimless arrow.
“Thank you, Finn,” Logan said softly. He let himself look at him for another moment, then took a breath and gave his brightest smile to the room. “Well. Thank you for the pre-tea tea. I’ll be…” He looked at Finn again as he gazed around the room. “Off now.”
It was a well-worn routine of theirs by now. They had five different directions Logan might walk—many different gardens, many different corridors, that one library that no one seemed to remember anything about. Today was the library—Finn’s favorite.
And yet, as Logan arrived among the books, walked lap after lap without seeing any of the shelves, Finn wasn’t there yet. Logan had learned very quickly that Finn adored reading—it had really been the first thing Logan had learned. He’d ordered tea to this library, and of course no one really knew about it and so Finn, sent up to bring the tea to him, had gotten confused, and then lost, before finally arriving with cold tea and soggy sandwiches. He’d proceeded to just stand there in the doorway, gazing around—and giving Logan quite the look at him, too.
And Logan had made some snobbish comment suggesting Finn couldn’t read, and Finn had corrected him by reciting a bit of Shakespeare calling him a great deal of colorful insults and, well…Logan had fallen just a little bit in love.
Finally, footsteps, fast, nearly running. The door opening, Finn blowing through, out of breath.
“Sorry,” he whisper-shouted. “Sorry, sorry.” He shut the door, turned the lock.
Logan made a show of drawing his time piece out of his waistcoat.
Finn just laughed. “Thought we were on the Rose gallery. Lost track, they’ve got us running around the clock with the start of the season and everything. And we haven’t seen each other for a few days, have we? So looks like you’re running around, too.”
“I don’t run,” Logan said with a smirk.
“Oh, of course, God forbid a Lord runs,” Finn said, then grinned. “Anyway…Hello, diamond.”
Logan rolled his eyes. He made to turn away, mockingly of course, and only so Finn would take his hand and reel him back in—no one ever touched him like that. And Finn’s hands were rough from work, calloused and firm against his own skin. It made Logan want to…God, what to name first?
“I’m only joking,” Finn said. “How are you?”
Logan just hummed and leaned up to kiss him. “Better now.”
“Hm?” Finn kissed him again, then his cheek. “And what have you been up to, lover?”
“Fittings. Ugh.” Logan closed his eyes, pressing his face into Finn’s neck.
“Poor baby.”
Logan smacked at his lower back but just held tighter. Finn did the same.
“You have tea,” Finn said. “Your family is waiting, it’s all been sent up.”
“Well, you were late, so now I’ll be late, too.” Logan leaned back to press another hard kiss to his mouth. “Fuck tea.”
“Hey,” Finn laughed. “I worked hard on those sandwiches. Made the cake, too.”
“I’d prefer your cake, if you don’t mind.” Logan enjoyed Finn’s laugh, filling the space between them. “No, really, though,” Logan said, and kissed him again. “Come for walk with me?”
Finn’s smile dimmed. He sucked a breath in and cupped Logan’s cheek in his hand, then shook his head. “We shouldn’t, Lo. I want to, but we shouldn’t.”
Logan leaned into his palm. “Why not? We always go for walks.”
“I know,” Finn said softly. “I just meant not today.”
Logan straightened, heart sinking. He thought about what Noelle had said. “Finn…”
“It’s all right,” Finn said. “Really—”
“What did my sister say to you?” Logan asked. “What did she say?”
“What?” Finn asked, eyes going confused. “Nothing.”
“Fuck the ball,” Logan said more fiercely. “I won’t go.”
“You have to go,” Finn raised his eyebrows. “It’s the Queen’s ball. You’re being presented, Lo.”
Logan just rolled his eyes. “It’s feathers and—and champagne and—it’s nothing, Finn, come on. Some people care about these things, sure, but—”
“Logan,” Finn said. “Lo.” He took Logan’s hands in his own, keeping him in place. Logan could only stare at the way Finn’s thumbs rubbed gently over his knuckles. He looked so conflicted, brown eyes sad. “You…you have to care.”
Logan had been dreading this, even though they both had known it was coming. They both knew the realities but somehow, away from it all, they had managed to ignore it for a long while. Taking walks through the woods as though they were exactly the same, equal to each other. Kissing by streams as if nothing could touch them, staying up late beneath the stars to learn each other, through and through.
Finn seemed to be having similar thoughts. He brought up one of Logan’s knuckles to his lips. “Look, I…I don’t have it in me to tell you we can’t see each other anymore. I know that’s how this is supposed to go.”
Logan shook his head, almost frantically, but Finn just squeezed his hands.
“I know that—one of us is suppose to tell the other that we can’t give each other the kind of life we deserve. But I can’t do that. I can’t get those words out, I’ll never be able to. Because I’m selfish and because I—”
“I won’t go tonight,” Logan said. “I won’t.”
“It’s not about the ball,” Finn said, almost pleadingly. “Lo, you’re…” His smile was sad, resigned. “You’re going to marry. You are, that’s the life you were born into, and this, this is the life I was born into, and so it’s not going to be to me.” Finn’s words stuttered out at the end, as if he had to force them. “The ball is just tonight. I’m talking about a lot longer than that.”
Logan didn’t want to hear it. He wasn’t ready to hear it. He surged forward and wrapped his arms around Finn’s neck. “Just come for a walk with me.” He pressed their cheeks together. “Just—please, we’ll figure something out.”
“Where will we go?” Finn asked. “This isn’t the country, there’s no woods to hide ourselves away in, and we can’t just walk down the street.”
“Then I’ll sneak you upstairs.”
“Logan, no. You know that’s not a good idea.”
Logan made a frustrated sound, turned his nose into Finn’s neck again. He didn’t care what was at stake anymore. He didn’t care, he wanted this. He wanted Finn’s smiles, and the way he had taught Logan how to scramble an egg, how to make tea—laughing at him all the while for knowing so little. Tea? You don’t know how to make tea?
“Lo, you know you have to go tonight.”
Logan just squeezed his eyes shut. “I know. I know but why—why couldn’t we be…if everything was different…”
“I know,” Finn said softly. “If we could just live in here with books, and soggy sandwiches…and each other.”
“Yeah,” Logan whispered. “Yeah, I would.”
“Go the ball tonight.” Finn kissed his cheek and pulled back. “Then come home and tell me everything. I can see when carriages arrive from my room, and I’ll wait for you at the back entrance. All right? I won’t be late this time.”
Logan nodded slowly, and let Finn cup his chin gently in his hand and kiss him.
“All right?” Finn murmured against his lips, and then began to pepper his cheeks and chin with more kisses until Logan couldn’t help but smile. “Okay.” Finn smiled back, though neither of theirs quite reached their eyes. “Okay.”
Finn began to turn away, and he made it four steps towards the door before he turned back, just as Logan pushed forward and said wait.
Just one more kiss. It wasn’t nearly as playful. It was hard and Finn’s arms around him were tight and needy.
“Make sure you’re wearing that white suit,” Finn said against his mouth.
“It’s ugly,” Logan said, and took Finn’s bottom lip between his teeth.
“Not on the floor, I’d guess.” Finn took Logan’s face between his hands and kissed him hard, once more. “Gotta get back to work. And you have to get back to, you know.” Finn reached down and tapped Logan’s arse through his trousers. “Whatever it is you do all day.”
Logan just laughed, sounding love-struck even to his own ears, and gave him a push. “Go on. Don’t be late.”
Finn made a cross over his heart, pressed a kiss to his fingers and held them out towards Logan, then disappeared through the door.