“That’s exactly what I’d like to ask. Well, it’s not as if absolutely nothing happened, but nothing to the degree of needing to take responsibility. And he himself doesn’t seem to have any such expectations either.”
“Truly? Well, if that’s the case, I suppose it’s for the best, but…”
Until now, the capital had been flooded with people boasting that they’d “spent the night with Lucian Highwinter” — never anyone asking to forget it, to pretend nothing had happened. The more Lucian thought back on it, the more confused he became.
If Eugene really was that proper a person, it made no sense that he’d thrown himself into Lucian’s arms last night and slipped out of the ballroom alone with him. It had been the very first night of the social season — the night when every clandestine affair began. There wasn’t the slightest doubt that Basil might have missed some piece of information.
The most straightforward solution would be to ask Eugene directly what last night had even been about — but the man in question had long since left by carriage. And with the misunderstanding that he’d spent the night with Lucian, no less. Did he genuinely want to spend the night with me out of pure curiosity? If so, last night had been somewhat disappointing.
What if it had all been a misunderstanding from the very start? No — could those words and actions really have been a misunderstanding? If he truly hadn’t wanted it, he should have pushed Lucian away and refused from the start.
But that didn’t fit either — Eugene Primrose’s face, as he’d thrown himself willingly into Lucian’s arms, had been far too peaceful, pressing close and rubbing against him, even releasing on his own with apparent enjoyment and then falling asleep without a care. Even after waking up, he hadn’t said much of anything in particular. Lucian gripped the hair he’d been smoothing back, fisting it tightly. What on earth is going on? Lucian was thoroughly confused.
“Truly nothing happened? With that face, that body?”
“Have you only ever been deceived? Within his own family, he’s apparently coddled and watched over so carefully it’s as if they’re afraid he’ll be blown away by the wind.”
“Still, surely a person has some kind of social circle, friends, something. Was he planning to become a priest? With a face and body like that? Now that would be a sin.”
The cleric Eugene Primrose. The image of him looking quite holy and ascetic wasn’t bad at all, in Lucian’s imagination. Lucian now knew exactly what kind of bare body lay beneath if one were to lift that pristine white clerical robe. Even if Eugene practiced abstinence, other clergy would surely be tormented by temptation. Just as Lucian’s thoughts began drifting lewdly again, Basil’s voice pulled him back.
“I heard he barely managed to graduate from his public school. It’s hushed up among them, but apparently some students bullied Eugene Primrose. Naturally sensitive and frail to begin with, and bullied on top of that — it’s no wonder he became withdrawn.”
“He was bullied? By whom? What kind of lunatic? How could anyone possibly bully Eugene Primrose? Are they even human?”
Lucian, having completely forgotten his own recent behavior, raised his voice sharply. At Lucian’s outburst, Basil looked at him with an expression that practically screamed “who do you think you are?” — utter disbelief and incredulity written plainly across his face.
“You bullied him too, Your Grace.”
“Me?”
“Yes. Deliberately leaving him standing there in that state until I arrived, humiliating him right in front of someone, and then throwing him out — if that’s not bullying, what is?”
Lucian, who had been about to retort with “when did I ever do that?”, fell silent at Basil’s blunt point. He had nothing to say for himself, no matter how many mouths he had. In fact, he’d deliberately woken Eugene up before Basil arrived for exactly that reason — to put him on display and sour his mood on purpose.
Lucian’s lips, which were normally quick to throw out some snide remark, clamped shut as tightly as a clam guarding a giant pearl. Basil, seizing the opportunity, paid back a little of what he’d been owed.
“No wonder. I rushed over so quickly to deliver this news, and it turns out there was no need to hurry at all. I was wondering why you seemed so sour-tempered since this morning.”
Basil stood with one hip cocked and his arms crossed, mimicking Lucian’s signature obnoxious posture. Lucian, wearing a bitter expression, looked away from Basil.
He was already regretting his own behavior. It wasn’t because Eugene Primrose might have been a virgin. To begin with, Eugene hadn’t shown the slightest inclination to make an issue of it, and didn’t seem at all curious about what Lucian might have done while he was asleep. What Lucian regretted was that none of it had left him feeling satisfied in the slightest.
Just as Basil had pointed out, even after deliberately humiliating the man, there had been no sense of superiority, no satisfaction from petty cruelty. Both before and after looking over the documents Basil had brought on Eugene, all that remained was an unpleasant sense of doubt and regret.
Thoughts kept surfacing in his mind. Maybe I should have just left it be and looked forward to next time, instead of doing all that. Or, Instead of pulling some pointless stunt, I should have just apologized for what I did while he was asleep. He shouldn’t have been so coldhearted — he could have at least asked him to stay for a meal. Or, since the social season had just begun, he could have suggested they go hunting together sometime. Or, at the very least, he could have just asked outright what Eugene had really been thinking.
“This is going to be talked about for ages. Are you absolutely certain nothing happened? You’re really alright?”
“Basil, look at me like that one more time and I’ll gouge your eyes out.”
Basil glanced briefly, once again, at Lucian’s lower half. Lucian, as if he had eyes on the side of his head, sensed Basil’s gaze and frowned. Lucian considered, just for a moment, throwing Basil out entirely regardless of whatever was on today’s schedule — but quickly abandoned the thought. Even without Lucian having to ask, there was no one better than Basil at scratching exactly the itch he wanted scratched. No one — not even Lucian himself — could read Lucian’s interests as uncannily as Basil Lacromore could.
“Well, he certainly wasn’t a pushover, I’ll say that much.”
“Why, what did he say?”
“Quite cheeky, actually. Just as you said, Your Grace — every bit as aloof as he looks. He said to tell you he’ll make good use of the carriage. And he told me, in no uncertain terms, to mind my own business.”
There was no subject mentioned, but there was no mistaking who he was talking about. At the news that Basil had been put in his place, Lucian let out a short, breathy laugh.
“So, really — what on earth was he thinking?”
“Who knows. Perhaps he was genuinely smitten enough with me to want to spend the night with me, willingly?”
“Eugene Primrose? He didn’t strike me as having that kind of look about him. He seemed far too composed for that.”
Even while telling his story half-naked, even while buttering Lucian up with flattery back in Atrian — Lucian had sensed it both times — there was something extraordinary about him. Different from the Primroses, no, different from the children of any other great noble house. An elegance and aloof bearing so ingrained it seemed second nature, the very picture of a perfect noble — and yet, somehow, there was a subtle strangeness to him. Just like the clothes in the drawing he’d left behind.
“I don’t know either. Whether it was just a whim, some kind of acting out… or perhaps… lobbying.”
“Sorry?”
“Something like pillow-talk politics.”
“If that sort of thing worked on you, Your Grace, the people who’d have landed positions by now would fill an entire Clipper.”
“It’s not quite that bad.”
At Basil’s remark, Lucian shrugged. Even if not enough to fill a full-sized ship, it would certainly fill a Sloop. People hoping for some minor title, or investment from him, or — on the smaller end — hoping to become his mistress in exchange for a lovely little estate — Lucian had received countless such requests over the years.
But as Basil said, none of that worked on Lucian in the slightest. Even the most trivial, thoughtlessly done act on Lucian’s part could be read as politically significant, simply due to his status.
“Because of the dwindling gold veins? Because of the brother who emptied the family coffers and fled?”
“Hm… it’s certainly about time for the gold production issue to start surfacing publicly.”
“Gold mines… gold mines, is it. I never paid much attention to that side of things. Basil — do I have any land that produces gold? Among the lands I hold, that is?”
“Do I need to answer that?”
At Basil’s question, Lucian shook his head. He hadn’t asked expecting an actual answer. Lost in thought, Lucian shifted his posture and began tapping his fingers rhythmically against his knee.
Body-based lobbying — what nonsense. Could someone who’d done such a thing really fall so calmly, soundly asleep afterward? No matter how unfavorable the Primrose family’s situation currently was, it wasn’t as if they’d fallen so far as to resort to something like that. The possibility that this had all started from a misunderstanding never once crossed his mind, not even slightly.
Birds of a feather, as they say — every person Lucian had encountered in his life had been some dissolute noble or another, so naturally both Lucian and Basil were thinking entirely within the framework of Hyphaelion’s upper-class standards.
No matter how Lucian racked his brain, he simply couldn’t fathom Eugene Primrose’s true intentions or thinking. But there was something he could vaguely make out from the drawing Eugene had left behind. Keeping his eyes on the drawing, Lucian murmured a name with an unfamiliar accent, almost to himself.
“Never mind. I need to call for Odette.”
“At this hour?”
“Ah. If this is what he was aiming for, it seems to have worked rather well.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
Basil’s brow furrowed deeply. Lucian, not wanting to explain everything in detail, waved his hand dismissively, looking thoroughly bothered by the prospect.
“Anyway, just go call Odette.”
At Lucian’s order, Basil, though he had no idea what was going on, nodded as if to say he understood regardless. Years of experience had taught Basil that digging too deeply into what Lucian was thinking only ever gave him a headache.
