He huffed to himself, climbed on the bed, and spent about a minute shoving Jack around as Jack grumbled in wordless complaint before he had Jack off the covers and the covers over the pair of them.
Chest to chest, he slid a leg between Jack’s, rested a hand on Jack’s round arse, and followed him into sleep.
The messenger was shown directlyinto the breakfast parlour, where Beckett was uncomfortably sitting at the table for the first time, beside Nolan and opposite Jack.
The butler didn’t even come and get Nolan to deal with the messenger as he normally would. He brought the man straight in.
It was one of the stable lads from Greylag.
Beckett stood sharply, banging his knee against the table leg and rattling the crockery.
Across from him, Jack went frighteningly still. “Is my duch well?”
“Oh,” the messenger said. “Yes, Your Grace. Sorry. His Grace is fine.” The messenger bowed. “My apologies. Didn’t mean to make you worry overmuch.”
“Do I have reason to worry at all?” Jack asked mildly.
There was a brief hesitation before the man shook his head.
Well, that was convincing.
“Mr Stanton sent me here to keep you informed, Your Grace, that’s all, since you left instructions that you wanted to know if anything out of the ordinary happened. His Grace the duch is safe. We saw him off to Avendene a little later than planned, true, but only by a couple of hours in the end, and that was down to him haring off down the beach after breakfast, as he does, and losing track of time. Cook made him stay for lunch.”
“Then of what am I to be informed?” Jack asked. The messenger was probably the only one in the room who couldn’t tell quite how much Jack was controlling himself.
“His Grace the duch’s brother paid a visit, Your Grace.”
“Oh, he did?” Jack said. “Lassit?”
The messenger blinked.
“Dalbryn?” Jack said. “The earl?”
“Yes, Your Grace. That’s him.”
“And the duch is safely on the way to Avendene? Does he have guards?”
“Yes, Your Grace. Safely away, and Mr Stanton sent four outriders with him, as well as two footmen out of livery to follow up behind, sneaky-like.”
More of that tension eased.
Lord Dalbryn had come to Greylag, the messenger went on, sat with Arden in the library for half an hour, and left. Half an hour after that, Arden himself had left, showing no sign of distress whatsoever.
Jack thanked the messenger and dismissed him to the kitchen for a hearty breakfast.
“What did that arsehole mean by going to Greylag?” Nolan demanded, beating Beckett to it.
Jack sipped his coffee and leaned back in the chair, making it creak. “I imagine he meant to take Arden back home with him.”
“He can’t do that!” Nolan said. “He’s your duch!”
At the same time, Beckett jabbed a finger on the tablecloth and said, “He’s our omega!” It earned him a startled frown from Nolan and a sympathetic smile from Jack.
“He is,” Jack said. “As Lassit well knows. Hmm.” He shot a sly glance at Beckett. “That he is my duch, at least. I can’t imagine what it would do to him if he knew he was your omega.”
“I can,” Nolan muttered, then stared ferociously at his plate and the abandoned piece of toast he’d been nibbling at when the messenger was shown in. “Be terrible if his lordship were to find out. Somehow. Through a mysterious, unnamed source, for instance.”
“Did you know we were leaving Arden in danger?” Beckett said roughly, and winced at the accusation in his voice.
