CHAPTER 377: CHAPTER 377: THE END OF A DINNER

The silverware stilled. The faint crackle of the fireplace filled the pause, and somewhere down the hall, Windstone’s staff moved quietly. They could hear even the muted shuffle of polished shoes on marble and the clink of crystal being set for dessert.

Mia looked up first, her smile hesitant, eyes bright with mischief. "Oh, he’s going to love this."

Lucius gave a low laugh, the sound smooth and cutting, the kind that could have been mistaken for amusement if one didn’t know him well. "’Love’ is one word for it. I’d wager he’s already composing a lecture that will last longer than this dinner."

Benjamin leaned forward, his napkin forgotten, eyes alight like a child spotting fireworks. "Do you think he’ll yell? Or just sigh for an hour like last time? I call dibs on the front-row seat."

Trevor, unhurried, reached across to shift Lucas’s plate closer, cutting a piece of the roast into smaller portions without ever taking his eyes off him. The motion was intimate, his sleeve brushed Lucas’s wrist, the faint scent of cedar and amber from his cologne mingling with the sweetness of honey glaze and roasted chestnuts.

"He can do whatever he likes," Trevor said, voice even and measured, with the calm of a man very sure of himself and his ability at keeping intruders out of his property. Imperial guests or not. "My concern begins and ends at this table."

Lucas tilted his head, the corner of his mouth curving. "You’re going to start a diplomatic incident over dinner."

Trevor’s tone softened, with the trace of a smile in it. "I’ve survived worse meals." His thumb brushed lightly against the back of Lucas’s hand beneath the linen-draped table.

Mia leaned forward, the candlelight catching in the amber of her earrings. "You really don’t care what the Crown Prince thinks, do you?"

Trevor finally looked up, the pale gold of the candlelight glinting against the faint platinum of his wedding band. "Care?" His voice was low and amused. "He’s family. But my husband is mine. The rest is commentary."

Benjamin clapped his hands once, delighted, the sharp sound making Windstone glance in from the doorway with mild alarm. "Oh, this is going to be delicious. The Crown Prince of Palatine barely accepted that his beloved little brother has been married off and settled in scandalous luxury, and now he is the last one to find out that the same brother is glowing..." he gestured dramatically at Lucas, "...with impending parenthood. I’m ordering champagne."

Lucius’s smirk curved, predatory and fond. "Benjamin, you’ll start a war."

Benjamin’s grin didn’t waver. "Then I’ll host it. With hors d’oeuvres and excellent lighting."

Mia laughed so hard her pearl hairpin slipped. "Gods, you’re all impossible."

Trevor leaned back, one arm along the back of Lucas’s chair, the soft brush of his fingers against Lucas’s shoulder a quiet claim. The candlelight caught the sharp line of his jaw, the faint fatigue in his eyes, and the composure that looked almost like restraint. He didn’t care about Sirius’s disapproval, nor the inevitable headlines that would follow. His entire world was sitting beside him, tired, graceful, and still stubbornly trying to finish his meal instead of resting.

"Let Sirius come," Trevor murmured then, voice low enough for only Lucas to hear. "He’ll learn what it means to be part of this family now."

Lucas turned toward him, startled and faintly amused, the firelight warming the edges of his face. "You really are fearless."

Trevor’s gaze softened. "No," he said quietly. "Just certain."

Benjamin raised his glass, the crystal catching the gold shimmer of the room. "To certain men," he declared, "to scandalous dinners, and to duchesses who terrify royalty."

Mia snorted, trying not to laugh. "You’re incorrigible."

"Consistently," Benjamin replied, grinning.

Still, everyone raised their glasses, Alistair, Lucius, Mia, and even Trevor with a faint, amused exhale, and the soft ring of crystal meeting crystal filled the space.

—

By the time the last guest finally left, Alistair half-dragging Benjamin toward the car, Mia promising to text, and Lucius leaving behind a pointed behave yourself, the manor had fallen into something like peace.

Windstone had dismissed most of the staff for the night, but traces of the evening lingered: the faint scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced glaze, half-drunk glasses of wine on the sideboard, and the quiet hum of the central heating.

Lucas had already escaped to the lounge, the smaller one Trevor preferred when the rest of the house felt too large. The lamps were dimmed to amber, city lights spilling through the tall windows in a scatter of silver reflections across the parquet floor.

He’d changed into a soft gray knit and loose trousers, his hair slightly mussed from where he’d run his fingers through it too many times. There was a half-finished cup of tea beside him and a blanket across his lap. He looked comfortable and, to Trevor’s mind, far too precious for the chaos of dinner guests.

Trevor stepped in quietly, the low thud of his shoes absorbed by the carpet. He’d undone his tie, rolled his sleeves, and abandoned his vest somewhere down the hall. The sharp polish of the evening had worn off, replaced by the calmer presence that Lucas preferred.

"Finally escaped," he said, voice low as he crossed the room. The warm light caught on the platinum of his wedding band as he reached to loosen his cuff. "If Benjamin texts Windstone after midnight to ’thank him for the hospitality,’ I’ll block his number again."

Lucas smiled without looking up. "You say that every time."

"And I mean it every time."

Trevor dropped into the seat beside him, their knees brushing. The air between them smelled faintly of bergamot and cedar from his cologne and pheromones, mingling with Lucas’s tea.

For a moment, neither spoke. The soft murmur of the city beyond the windows filled the quiet of the room with servers’ voices and tasks being completed for the day.

Then Trevor said, almost absently, "You know you can refuse them, right? Next time. If you’re tired, or you just want quiet. You don’t owe anyone dinner or conversation. Not even the royal ones."

Lucas looked up at him, amused. "I didn’t know someone with your title could be so antisocial. You’re literally a marquis, Trevor. A public figure. The embodiment of diplomacy."

Trevor gave a faint, unrepentant smile. "Charming and sociable are not the same thing."

"Clearly." Lucas leaned back against the sofa, head tilting as he watched him. "You nearly bit Lucius’s head off."

"I was polite."

"You told him that if he wanted the throne so badly, he could marry Benjamin."

"I said it politely." Trevor said with a wide, unrepentant grin.