Going on the view from here, which was the front of the impressive, sprawling, honey-coloured house, he concluded that he was in the Lodge down by the gatehouse.
As he watched, another light flared to life in the dark bulk of the house ahead. Closer, a small, dark shape moved hesitantly onto the lawn directly beneath his window. It was a deer; delicate ears twitching, slender body poised to flee.
It reminded him of Arden, in ways he wished it didn’t.
If Jack dug deep into his memories, he could just about remember Arden when he hadn’t been quite so timid. He’d always been a quiet boy, but he was also, once, lively and sweet. He hadn’t grown hesitant until Lassit had presented. Once Aloys followed, that hesitance turned wary. After he’d presented as an omega, he’d simply faded into the background.
Helped along, of course, by his well-meaning parents, who had kept him confined to his own wing under the guise of protecting him.
There would be no more fading. Jack wanted him to blossom.
Arden had Jack and Beckett to protect him now, and they wouldn’t do it by containing him, or making him feel as if he’d done something wrong in being born an omega. He’d never have to know loneliness again, and he’d only ever be alone when he wanted to be. When Jack was in Sevennis fulfilling his obligations, Beckett would still be here for him.
And Beckett?
Jack smiled, thinking of how Beckett had brought Arden to his study yesterday morning, had kissed him, and instructed him how to kiss Jack.
Oh, his brash young alpha lover had taken to Arden better than Jack had hoped, despite the way Jack had fumbled their beginning. Jack had never seen him so tender or protective.
He wanted Beckett to blossom, too.
He drained the remaining water in his glass and threw open the window to let in the crisp dawn air. He took in a few deep, bracing lungfuls to chase away the last of the lingering nausea, and strode to the bell pull to call for a pot of coffee.
Perhaps two pots.
Lost in thoughts of his loves, he was startled when the door crashed open and Marl ran in.
Marl tripped to a stop when he saw Jack standing at the window, pressed a hand to his chest, and held up a finger. Jack waited while Marl ran out, bellowed, “He’s fine! All is well!” and re-entered the room the way Jack was used to him entering a room: at a sedate, unflappable walk.
“Good morning,” Jack said.
“Your Grace. I trust you are feeling better?”
Jack tipped his head from one side to the other in consideration and opened his mouth to speak.
Before he could, Marl burst out, “Fuck’s sake, Jack! What were you thinking? Suppressants? I should spank you.”
“I’d advise against it,” Jack said, brows flying up.
“Do you haveanyidea how sick you were?”
“Yes, actually.”
“Do you have any idea how worried everyone was about you?”
“You were worried?”
Marl gave him a scathing look.
Marl had been the first footman when Jack was a child. In other words, Marl was the one who always ended up having to drag Jack out of fights, the duckpond, the stable muck heap and, on the numerous occasions that Jack had overestimated his abilities and got stuck, more than one tree.
He was also a dignified and private man. He’d indulged Jack as a child, but from the day Jack had inherited the title and his responsibilities, he’d drawn and kept a firm boundary between them.
The scolding made Jack feel quite nostalgic. “Don’t give me that look. I had to take them, for Arden’s sake. I won’t need to do it again.”
“You’d better not. I am far too old to train a new duke, and your heir is almost as bad as you were. Almost. Stop smiling at me.”
Jack did his best. “Would you be so kind as to have some coffee sent up? And some hot water for washing? I’m keen to get back to my husband.”
