“Basil. Where do you think you’re going? And Eugene Primrose—I really would like you to leave my residence now.”
Lucian called out to Basil, who’d been trying to slip away, summoning him like some servant. Then, with that handsome face of his, eyes crinkling into a smile, he proceeded to throw Eugene out. No matter how little it meant to either of them, Eugene’s mood plummeted in an instant. He’d heard plenty about what kind of person Lucian was from Ivan, time and time again, but that didn’t make it sting any less.
Eugene gritted his teeth and shoved his legs into his trousers. With no time to worry about how he looked, he threw on his clothes haphazardly, as though all that mattered was covering the essentials. He then reached for Aldrin’s drawing, which had been left on the table, but Lucian stopped him.
“Leave that here.”
“…What?”
“Wasn’t it drawn of me? I’ll gratefully accept it, then.”
Lucian shamelessly smiled at Eugene. And infuriatingly, even now, that smile of his was so devastatingly handsome that Eugene couldn’t even muster a single word of protest, and found himself driven out of the room where he’d spent the night.
Those hazel eyes glinted with light, the corners of his mouth curling up into that smile—it was the kind of smile that could turn a person’s brain to mush. Thrown out like that, Eugene trudged down the hallway of the unfamiliar residence, empty-handed.
He felt utterly dazed, unable to make sense of whatever had just happened in there. Half out of his mind, he followed the servant who’d appeared at some point to lead him toward the entrance, when Basil, who’d hurried back around, called out to stop him.
“Mister Eugene.”
“Lord Lacromore.”
“He says you’re to take the Lacromore family’s carriage.”
It was the kind of remark anyone might make in passing, but as was typical of the way nobles spoke, it carried far more meaning than its surface. The phrase “he says you’re to” made it clear this wasn’t Basil’s own idea, but an order from Lucian. And the reason Lucian was offering up Basil’s carriage, rather than calling for one from House Primrose or some outside carriage, was, as Eugene himself had figured earlier, to avoid any unnecessary gossip.
The reason he wasn’t being offered the Highwinter family’s carriage—one with staff whose discretion could absolutely be trusted—was that it meant Eugene wasn’t being treated as a guest of House Highwinter. Granted, for most other nobles, that last interpretation might have been reading too much into it, but in Lucian’s case, that was almost certainly exactly what he meant.
Eugene had indeed correctly read a great deal from that single remark of Baron Basil Lacromore’s. And as though to further prove just how poorly he was being treated, Basil added one more remark, sounding for all the world like some stern tutor.
“…For someone who’s so careful about avoiding gossip, this was quite a reckless thing to do.”
There was no shortage of meaning packed into that remark either, and even Eugene—dazed as he still was—immediately felt his brows knit together at how unpleasant it sounded, without even needing to dig for the hidden implications.
Granted, Eugene might be the unranked third son of House Primrose, but he certainly wasn’t of a station low enough to be lectured—not even behind closed doors, but right to his face—by a baron who’d only barely been pulled back from the brink of ruin himself. House Primrose was one of the great earldoms, even among earldoms. At least, that was what Ivan had taught him.
“I don’t believe Lord Lacromore needs to weigh in on matters between His Grace and myself.”
Eugene shot back sharply at Basil. Even though Basil currently held the rank of baron, he was the right hand of the King’s brother, someone basking in his unwavering favor—not someone anyone could easily disregard. Falling out of favor with Basil was, in effect, much the same as falling out of favor with the Duke himself. And this was all the more true given that most of those who’d spent the night with Lucian were, in one way or another, people desperately trying to win the Duke’s favor.
Even when Basil made remarks like this, no one ever talked back—they simply swallowed their complaints. Most of them probably entertained the same shallow little fantasy: Just wait, Basil Lacromore. Once I become the Duke’s favorite, I’ll make sure to ignore you completely.
It was Basil, of all people, who’d warned Lucian that Eugene wasn’t someone to be trifled with—so did the fact that Lucian had gone ahead and done it anyway make him look easy now? At Eugene’s unexpectedly icy remark, Basil—for once—found himself with nothing to say in return. Basil Lacromore, who didn’t hesitate to talk back and nag even at the Duke of Highwinter himself, was left with his mouth shut tight.
All the more so because what Eugene had said was true. Basil wasn’t some venerable old noble, nor was he related by blood to either House Primrose or House Highwinter. There was no question that his remark had crossed a line. As Basil stood there, stunned and frozen by the sharp rebuke, Eugene—despite his disheveled appearance—delivered his farewell with remarkable elegance.
“Please tell His Grace I gratefully accept the use of the carriage.”
He was so elegant about it that no one would have even noticed his rumpled clothes or his telltale gait, evidence enough of how he’d spent the night. Strictly speaking, Basil should have apologized—but instead of an apology, he simply summoned a footman and ordered him to escort Eugene back to the Primrose residence in his own carriage, with all due courtesy.
It wasn’t that wounded pride was keeping him from apologizing—not at all. Watching Eugene turn away so coldly, with an air practically icy enough to send a chill through the room, Basil suddenly found himself feeling, for just a moment, the way he might if he’d angered Lucian—someone remarkably difficult to deal with. Rather than say anything more, it felt like the wiser move was to simply lie low.
Once Basil had watched Eugene board the carriage and depart, he made his way back to Lucian. Lucian was still in that dark green guest room he so rarely used. Still dressed in his gold robe, he was glaring seriously at the documents Basil had tossed and left behind earlier. As Basil entered the room, Lucian flung the documents down onto the table and demanded, almost accusingly,
“Is this for real?”
He’d jabbed a finger at the documents without specifying anything further, but Basil had a fairly good idea which part Lucian was asking about. Still, as a small act of revenge for all the trouble Lucian had put him through these past few days—and for going and doing the very thing Basil had told him not to—Basil folded his arms behind his back and feigned ignorance, perfectly calm.
“Which part would that be, exactly?”
“The part about Eugene Primrose having truly been shut up at home this whole time, with no contact with anyone at all.”
“Yes.”
“Truly?”
“Yes. What kind of answer were you expecting? Apparently he was genuinely unwell. Not too long ago, he collapsed and was badly injured, hovering between life and death, and given how naturally frail and prone to collapsing he is, he’s apparently avoided going out as much as possible ever since.”
Without even glancing back at the documents, Basil rattled off his answer as though he’d been waiting for the question. In truth, when Lucian had first ordered him to look into Eugene Primrose, Basil had quietly pushed that order to the very back of his to-do list, somewhere out of sight. Partly because he knew Lucian would be too preoccupied with other matters for a while to get up to anything reckless, and partly because he had no desire to go stirring up trouble in a house that was already on fire.
But the moment Eugene Primrose left with Lucian last night, Basil had quickly wrapped things up and rushed home to pull up every document he had on Eugene. And on this exact point—the one Lucian kept asking about now—Basil had cross-checked it several times over. Whether Lucian wanted to deny it or not, it was an undeniable, well-established fact.
“And no one he was particularly close with, no one who came and went…? No one like that, either?”
“You’re regretting last night now, aren’t you? See, this is exactly why. Didn’t I tell you, over and over, not to lay a hand on him?”
The mocking smile vanished from Basil’s face entirely, replaced with an unusually serious expression, and Lucian rubbed roughly at his forehead. To anyone else, it might have looked like nothing much—but Basil knew that right now, Lucian was thoroughly flustered.
“Goddamn it. Lucian Highwinter, you absolute idiot.”
“Glad to see you’re aware of it.”
“Was I drunk? No, well, I was drunk, but… there’s no way. You saw it too, didn’t you? Eugene Primrose came to me himself, last night, of his own will….”
Lucian dragged the hand that had been rubbing his forehead roughly down his face. Basil nodded, replaying the events of last night in his mind. According to what Basil had found, contrary to Lucian’s assumption that Eugene would “live up to his face,” Eugene Primrose’s personal life had turned out to be essentially a blank slate. Search through the private lives of any well-regarded noble’s children, regardless of gender, and you wouldn’t find anyone cleaner than him.
That someone like that had, of all times, ended up spending the night with Lucian right when his family’s situation was so precarious—that left Basil with an uneasy feeling he couldn’t quite shake. Some might call it cynical, prejudiced, perhaps even somewhat arrogant suspicion and judgment, but this sort of thing wasn’t unusual at all for the two of them.
Surely not—Primrose, of all houses? Then again… it hasn’t become public knowledge yet, but isn’t their decline already a foregone conclusion? Such suspicions crossed his mind. But regardless of whatever scheme Eugene might have had in seducing Lucian, the deed was already done. If House Primrose decided to dig in and play dirty about it, even someone like Lucian wouldn’t be able to walk away from this as easily as some passing fling.
What could he do, though—whatever Eugene’s intentions might have been, it had been Lucian’s choice to fall for it and get tangled up in this. Basil thought, what goes around comes around, and glanced sideways at Lucian.
“In a lot of ways, it really was unexpected. Still, that doesn’t really change where responsibility lies, does it?”
“That’s not why I was checking.”
At Basil’s pointed look, Lucian glared right back at him. Lucian’s eyes seemed to say, Just how much of a worthless piece of garbage do you actually think I am? As Basil narrowed his eyes at him, Lucian waved a hand dismissively. Whether last night had truly been Eugene’s first time or not didn’t matter in the end, either way.
“…Don’t worry. Nothing happened.”
Lucian raked a hand through his still-damp hair and let out a long sigh. Just a little while ago, thinking about how the night had ended in nothing, he’d been seething with irritation. But now, while he did feel some relief, a lingering sense of regret remained as well, the two feelings coexisting. Just as Lucian was trying to make some sense of the whole situation in his own head, he noticed Basil’s gaze drifting, ever so subtly, toward his lap. Sensing Basil’s suspicious glance, Lucian crossed his legs the other way and pulled his robe closed.
“Don’t look at me like that. Everything’s working just fine.”
“Is that so?”
