Morning light filtered through the heavy curtains of the Hartwell manor, casting pale stripes across the floors. The house was already busy... servants moving quickly, voices carrying from room to room. Something unusual was happening, and Rowan could feel it as soon as he started his rounds.
He walked down the eastern corridor. Normally, the mornings were calm, with only the soft sounds of doors opening and closing. Today, though, there were whispers everywhere. Excited, hurried voices that stopped when he got close but started again as soon as he passed.
He caught snippets as he went.
"Did you see the picture?"
"All three of them were there last evening."
"Lord Arthur looked so serious... And hot as usual!"
Rowan frowned and kept walking.
Near the servants' stairs, he spotted three maids crowded together, their heads bent over a magazine. They were turning pages carefully, eyes wide, small gasps escaping as they pointed at something.
When they saw him approaching, they straightened up quickly, but they didn't hide the magazine fast enough.
Rowan didn't stop to ask. He moved on, but the same thing happened in the next hallway... two footmen glancing at the same kind of publication, talking in low voices.
By the time he reached Noel's door, he was annoyed. Two of Noel's personal maids were standing outside, holding a copy of the magazine between them with their faces pink as they whispered.
"That's enough," Rowan said sharply, stepping forward.
He took the magazine from their hands before they could react.
"Go get the young master's washing water and breakfast. Now."
They nodded quickly. "Yes, sir."
They hurried off down the hall. Rowan looked down at what he was holding.
It was one of the city's popular society magazines, the kind that reported on events, fashions, and notable families. The main page showed a large photograph taken at the clubhouse the night before.
The headline read: THE ASHFORD BROTHERS ATTEND THE MONTHLY BACHELOR GATHERING.
The picture was clear. Arthur Ashford stood in the middle...tall, broad-shouldered, silver blond hair combed back perfectly, face serious and composed. To his right was Bennett, with lighter hair slightly wavy, leaning forward a bit and wearing a small, knowing smile. On the left was Cedric, taller than both, with black hair that was straight and severe, and an expression that was calm and distant.
Rowan stared at the image longer than he meant to. He hadn't noticed them at the gathering. He had been focused on Noel the whole time.
Then he remembered the mark on Noel's neck... the red shape of fingers.
His grip tightened on the magazine, crumpling the edge.
Evelina Ashford had been rejected when the engagement talks fell apart. The family had taken it badly.
And now this... nightmare in the game.
It made sense.
Too much sense.
Rowan didn't knock, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Noel was still in bed, stretched out on his back, one arm above his head, the other across his stomach. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and the blanket had slipped down to his waist. His dark hair was messy against the white pillow, his face relaxed in sleep.
Morning light fell across his chest and neck.
Rowan stopped then he moved closer without thinking.
The marks were still visible. The redness on his neck from where a hand had held him. Lower, on his chest and collarbone, faint red spots... some from fingers, others from mouths.
Rowan's throat tightened.
He turned away quickly, hand pressing over his mouth.
'No. It couldn't be.'
The old Noel Hartwell had hated men... openly, harshly. He had insulted them, avoided them, and made it clear he wanted nothing to do with them.
This Noel... had marks all over him from men and he had come back smiling.
Rowan looked again.
Noel was still sleeping, breathing evenly, looking almost too perfect like this with his pale skin against the dark hair, features sharp but softened in rest.
If Lord Hartwell found out...
The family didn't tolerate anything outside their strict rules. They would cut Noel off completely and banish him from the family.
Noel stirred then, making a small sound. His eyes opened slowly, blinking against the light.
He saw Rowan and smiled lazily.
"Rowan? You're here early."
He sat up, stretching his arms high. The blanket fell lower.
Rowan looked away fast. "Put something on."
Noel glanced down at himself, then laughed softly.
"Oh. Right."
He stood up without hurry, completely bare now except for the blanket he had left behind. He walked to the full-length mirror across the room, turning his head to check his neck.
"Shut! It's still there," he said quietly, touching the mark lightly. "I thought it might be gone by morning."
Rowan moved quickly, picking up the blanket from the bed and stepping behind Noel. He wrapped it around Noel's shoulders firmly.
"Are you trying to get yourself in trouble?" Rowan asked, voice low and angry. "Do you have any idea what this looks like?"
Noel turned his head, looking at Rowan in the mirror.
"Trouble how?"
"If anyone sees these marks... if the servants talk about it and if your father starts asking questions and finds out men did this to you..."
"He'll send me away?" Noel finished, voice calm.
Rowan met his eyes in the reflection. "Yes. Or worse."
Noel paused, then smiled widely, as if it were a joke.
"Oh my! How terrible that would be."
Rowan's face stayed serious. "This isn't funny."
Noel tilted his head. "And how do you know it was men who left the marks?"
Rowan hesitated.
"I'm not stupid," he said finally.
Noel turned around to face him directly, holding the blanket closed with one hand.
"And neither am I."
Before Rowan could answer, there was a knock at the door.
Rowan stepped back quickly. "The maids. Stay there and cover up properly."
Noel nodded and went back to the bed, pulling the blanket around him as he sat.
Rowan opened the door.
The maids came in with their usual routine... one carrying a basin of warm water scented with herbs, another with a tray of breakfast: fresh bread, fruit, eggs, tea.
They set everything down carefully on the table by the bed. Noel's eyes landed on the magazine Rowan had left on a chair.
He reached for it casually.
The photograph of the Ashford brothers stared up at him, and immediately, he recognised more than just their faces now.
Arthur's tie... the dark silk with the thin pattern. That had been the cloth used to bind his wrists.
His heart beat faster.
'So... It really was them.'
He had the name tag and the tie in his drawer. Now the same tie was in the picture.
'This is proof.'
The maids finished arranging things and stepped back. Noel looked up at them with a mild, curious expression.
"I've heard some talk this morning," he said conversationally. "About the Ashford brothers. Do you know much about them?"
The maids exchanged quick glances, then couldn't hold back.
"Oh, yes, my lord!"
"They're famous... and frightening at the same time."
"Lord Bennett is the charming one, but people say he can ruin someone with just a smile. I wish he could just ruin my life."
"Lord Arthur is the oldest. He's won every duel he's ever fought. No one crosses him."
"And Lord Cedric... he barely speaks, but they say he once made a duke back down just by looking at him."
Noel listened, leaning back against the pillows, a small smile growing.
"Interesting," he said. "Very interesting."
The maids curtsied and stepped back, still excited from the question.
Rowan walked closer to Noel and leaned closer to him.
"You shouldn't encourage gossip."
Noel held up the magazine. "But it's useful gossip. I'd like to hear all about it."
Rowan shook his head. "Be careful. Those three are dangerous."
Noel looked at the photograph again, fingers tracing the edge.
"I know," he said quietly.
But his voice held no fear... only curiosity.