Aubrey’s heart thundered, a sudden rush of exhilaration surging through him. Ridiculous as it was, he was enjoying himself. There was something about the escapade that gave him a sense of purpose that had seemed entirely absent from his life recently. Though the young man beside him had caused a good deal of annoyance and frustration, there was camaraderie between them of the kind he’d not experienced since he was a lad messing about with Hawk and Nat, the three of them close as brothers.
His amusement faded, however, as he heard voices and glanced towards the study to see the glow of candlelight spilling underneath the door. Hawk was still up, as was at least one other.
“Now,” Alfie whispered, reminding him once more that this was no time for dithering as the lad hurried across to the servants’ stairs, silently opened the door and slipped through.
Aubrey followed, relieved when they were once more out of sight. They hurried up, with Aubrey trying his hardest to be light-footed, though—judging by the tsking sound Alfie made—failing.
At the landing, Alfie turned the handle and opened it a crack, peering out.
“It’s clear,” he whispered.
Aubrey nodded and followed him out onto a galleried landing. To get to his room, they had to go along the corridor, past the top of the main stairs, and then along and right towards the east wing of the house.
They moved stealthily, heading for the staircase, when Aubrey heard a familiar voice and footsteps crossing the marble floor of the entrance hall below.
“Thank you, Howard, that will be all. I’ve kept you up long enough. Away and find your bed, man.”
“I will, sir, but I shall just look in upon Mr Aubrey’s valet and see if he has any notion where he has got to. I know you will sleep easier knowing where he is.”
“That’s good of you, Howard,” Hawk replied, his voice growing louder as he reached the stairs.
Aubrey froze, suddenly remembering just what a peculiar sight he presented and just how awkward it would be to explain his appearance and his companion to the Duke of Hawkney. Alfie turned to glare at him, jerking his head wildly before grabbing hold of Aubrey's hand and tugging him into the nearest room.
Though Aubrey had done his best to make a faithful plan of the layout of the house, there had not been time enough to label every single room, and so he had only marked the ones of most importance. He had failed to inform Alfie that the room into which he thrust them both was a comfortable sitting room, and the place Hawk usually claimed as his own when in residence.
There was no time now, either, as a few seconds after they had closed the door, it swung open again, with the pair of them trapped behind it. Alfie plastered himself against the wall, and Aubrey flattened himself against Alfie, both praying that Hawkney was not planning on staying, for if he closed the door, they were sunk.
Aubrey’s heart thudded in his ears with such force he felt giddy and rather sick, and any amusement he might have found in the evening died a death. His hands were pressed against the wall on either side of Alfie’s head, the lad’s hair tickling his chin. The sound of their breathing seemed altogether too loud, and Aubrey tried to slow his breath, but his lungs protested, needing to inhale deeper as anxiety flooded him.
Please, please go away and go to bed, he prayed silently as Hawk moved about the room. With luck, he’d just come in to fetch a book or something he’d left here, but as the seconds ticked by, all Aubrey could feel was the sting of humiliation as he imagined his cousin closing the door and finding the two of them huddled behind it. It was too appalling to contemplate.
“Damnation, where the devil is it?” Hawk muttered to himself, as Aubrey felt a bead of sweat trickle down his back.
A lifetime seemed to pass by, though it could only have been minutes, and Aubrey did not dare look down. He was certain Alfie would be glaring at him, furious at having put them in sucha situation. For he did not doubt it would be his fault for not properly explaining the layout of the house.
“Your grace?”
Aubrey felt Alfie jump slightly as the butler reappeared and was somewhat mollified that he wasn’t the only one whose nerves were being shredded.
“Yes, Howard? Any update on our young vagabond?”
“It appears he intended to meet a friend at The Swan, a game of cards was mentioned.”
“Who the devil does he know here?” Hawkney asked sceptically.
“I could not say, sir. His man was rather cagey about divulging what he considered personal information.”
“Hmph. That young scapegrace is up to something, Howard. I know it, and he knows I know it,” Hawk replied, clearly frustrated. “Cards, my eye. It’s a woman, I’ll wager. If I find out he’s got himself in a scrape, no doubt with some unsuitable creature, there will be hell to pay. I remember the last time I had to bail him out with that dashed opera dancer. Made a completepillockof himself.”
“Indeed, your grace,” Howard replied, a thread of amusement in his voice.
Aubrey felt a flush of mingled fury and embarrassment at his cousin’s words and was hard pressed not to explode from behind the door and demand to know what the bloody hell he meant by saying such things. As it was, he went rigid with indignation, which meant he was rivetingly aware of the moment Alfie began to laugh.
It was subtle at first, a gentle tremor that communicated itself to Aubrey, pressed as they were, chest to chest. Then Alfie’sbreathing hitched, a tiny breath of sound, but one that seemed like a gunshot to Aubrey. He angled his head down, which was not easily done in the limited space, and tried to glare at the lad. Alfie glanced up at him, one hand covering his mouth. Though the room was dark, there was a little moonlight that brightened the space from the windows to their left. It cast a soft silver glow to Alfie’s face, changing it and making it prettier, more feminine.
No.
It was just… in this light. In the moonlight. Those long eyelashes. He couldalmostbelieve—the sensation was akin to being hit over the head with a heavy, blunt object.
