Chapter 368: Chapter 368: Looking better
By the time they reached the Fitzgeralt manor, the tension had drained into the quiet hum of tires on the gravel driveway. The sun was higher now, slanting through the pale late autumn clouds, gilding the garden in that fragile light that made everything look calmer than it really was.
Windstone, true to form, parked perfectly in line with the marble steps and exited first, jacket immaculate, hair unmoved. "I’ll see that no one disturbs you," he said, already in command of the house staff before either of them stepped out of the car.
Trevor helped Lucas down, not that he needed help, but the gesture was habitual now, and he liked it that way. They crossed the hall, their footsteps echoing over the cool stone, the air faintly scented with citrus polish and warmth.
Windstone disappeared toward the kitchens, promising something "appropriate for your condition." Lucas had tried to protest that phrase, but by the time he opened his mouth, the man was already gone.
So now, at last, he sat in the small sitting room that opened toward the inner courtyard, wrapped in a blanket soft enough to shame clouds, both hands cupped around a mug of cocoa so rich it felt like silk.
Trevor leaned against the arm of the sofa, tie loosened, sleeves rolled to his elbows, scrolling absently through his phone as if managing a financial empire from a recliner were perfectly normal. Every now and then, his purple gaze drifted toward Lucas, lingering just long enough to betray the quiet worry he pretended not to have.
Lucas caught him once and smiled faintly over the rim of his mug, green eyes glinting in the low light. "You can stop checking if I’m about to faint. I’m fine."
Trevor didn’t look up. "You say that every time."
"And I’m still right every time," Lucas replied, pulling the blanket tighter. "It’s a rare moment. For the first time in a week I can breathe without feeling nauseous from everything."
Trevor finally set the phone aside, eyes softening. "It suits you."
"What? Drinking chocolate and hiding from my family?" Lucas rearranged the soft blanket around him with far too much care.
"Being still," he said simply.
Lucas huffed a quiet laugh, glancing down at the steam curling from his cup. "Stillness feels strange. I keep expecting the next disaster. A call. A headline. Cressida kicking the door down."
"She’d never do that," Trevor said, settling beside him. "She’d send a letter first. Dax or Benjamin on the other hand would..."
"...just show up," Lucas finished, shaking his head. "Probably with a camera crew and a basket of ’congratulatory’ fruit."
Trevor chuckled, the sound low and warm. "Benjamin would make sure it’s perfectly color-coordinated to the nursery theme. Dax would eat half of it on the way."
"That’s oddly accurate," Lucas murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "And knowing Dax, he’d insist on naming the baby something imperial just to watch me squirm."
Trevor turned slightly toward him, his arm draped along the back of the sofa. "You’d veto it."
"I’d try. He’d bribe me with coffee and political leverage."
Trevor smirked. "You’d still win."
Lucas tilted his head, studying him for a moment. "You sound very confident about that."
"Because I’ve seen you negotiate with Serathine," Trevor said simply. "After that, nothing scares me."
Lucas rolled his eyes, but the warmth behind it was unmistakable. He let the quiet settle between them for a while, full, wrapped in the hum of the house and the faint rustle of the courtyard trees outside.
His cocoa was cooling, but he didn’t mind. His hands stayed around the cup anyway, savoring the heat. "Do you ever think it’s strange?" he asked softly.
Trevor looked at him. "What is it?"
"All of this," Lucas said, gesturing vaguely. "Being home. Not fighting for space. Not being watched every second. It feels... peaceful. Suspiciously peaceful."
Trevor’s smile was small but genuine. "Lucas, this is our home; nothing would be more peaceful than this, and if something comes after you, I will make sure of it."
Lucas’s eyes softened at that, at the quiet certainty in Trevor’s tone, the way he said it as if it were a given, not a promise. "You sound like Windstone," he murmured, taking another small sip of cocoa.
Trevor chuckled. "That’s the highest compliment you’ve ever given me."
"Don’t let it go to your head," Lucas said, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him with the smallest smile.
Outside, the sky had shifted from silver to pale gold, the kind of light that made the old stone of the manor glow faintly. The air was cool, but the room was warm, soft, steady warmth that smelled faintly of chocolate and cedar and something sweet from the kitchen.
Windstone appeared not long after, carrying a small tray with a plate of sliced fruit, the perfectly tempered cocoa refill, and a folded linen napkin placed just so. "Your Graces," he said, tone pleasantly neutral, "I’ve confirmed that the perimeter staff has been instructed to deny all entry to family visitors, couriers, and particularly enthusiastic imperial acquaintances."
Trevor’s mouth curved faintly. "Particularly enthusiastic?"
Windstone placed the tray down with military precision. "Lord Benjamin has already called twice. Once to ’check in,’ and again to ’verify that the first call went through.’ Lady Mia sent word she was in the city and would drop by with pastries. Lord Alistair wrote an email."
Lucas blinked. "An email?"
"A very polite one," Windstone said, folding his hands behind his back. "He attached a calendar invite labeled ’casual brunch, non-negotiable.’"
Trevor leaned back, amused. "You didn’t accept, I assume."
"Certainly not, sir," Windstone replied, his tone faintly scandalized. "I would never allow calendar access to the imperial network."
Lucas groaned softly, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. "We’ve been home less than two hours. How did they even know we were back?"
"Lord Benjamin’s assistant, most likely," Windstone said without hesitation. "She tracks your public appearances through social feeds. Efficient, if slightly obsessive."
Trevor gave a quiet laugh, the kind that made his shoulders shake. "And Mia?"
Windstone’s expression remained unreadable. "Lady Mia called ahead to ’ensure the kitchen was stocked with real butter.’ I assured her it was. She seemed unsatisfied and hung up."
Lucas lowered his mug to the table, a look of faint despair on his face. "They’re planning an ambush."
Trevor turned toward him, half-grinning. "You sound like you’re about to declare martial law."
"I might," Lucas said, wrapping the blanket closer. "If they find out we’re here, this house will turn into an embassy of chaos. Again."
Windstone inclined his head slightly. "Then I shall continue the policy of strategic inaccessibility. I’ve informed all potential visitors that you’re resting after travel. No further explanation was required."
Trevor nodded approvingly. "Good man."
"Thank you, sir. I’ve also taken the liberty of locking the outer gates and redirecting any deliveries to the west entrance."
That finally earned a laugh out of Lucas, soft and genuine. "You’ve thought of everything."
Windstone’s composure didn’t waver. "It’s part of my job, Your Grace. Prevention is infinitely easier than public damage control."
Trevor gave a small hum of agreement. "You’re enjoying this a little too much, Windstone."
"Professional satisfaction, sir. Nothing more."
"Right," Lucas said dryly, though he was smiling now. "You’re having the time of your life, barricading the manor against well-meaning lunatics."
Windstone adjusted a pillow that didn’t need adjusting. "If lunacy arrives bearing éclairs, it remains lunacy nonetheless."
Trevor laughed again, quietly but warm, then looked toward Lucas. The soft lamplight hit just right, gilding the green in his eyes and the faint color that had returned to his face. "He’s right about one thing, you know," Trevor said. "You look better."
Lucas shrugged lightly, but there was something unguarded in the way he set his cup aside. "Maybe I do. Maybe I just needed to be home."