The restaurant was warm and, filled with the low hum of conversation from other tables. Sunlight streamed in through the large windows, falling across the white tablecloths and polished silverware. The air smelled of fresh coffee, warm bread, and sweet pastries... comforting smells that felt out of place after the fight Noel had just been through.
He sat back in the cushioned chair, one leg stretched out under the table because bending it hurt too much. His plate held the remains of a sandwich, cut into neat triangles. Next to it were plates with half-eaten cakes, a bowl where vanilla ice cream was slowly melting, and a cup of strong black coffee.
Noel picked up the cup and took a small sip.
"Damn," he muttered quietly, wincing as he shifted his weight. His ribs and shoulder throbbed from the punches he had taken.
Rowan sat across from him, back straight, watching every move.
"Is the pain bad?" Rowan asked with a low voice, but his eyes showed real concern as they moved over Noel's face and arms.
Noel shook his head lightly. "It's fine. I'm just sore. I'll be okay."
Rowan didn't look like he believed him. His gaze stayed fixed on Noel, checking for any sign he was hiding worse injuries.
Noel watched him over the cup, a small smile forming. You're acting like you actually care, he thought. It's almost cute.
He set the cup down.
"Rowan," he said, keeping his voice light and proper, "wouldn't you be a little relieved if I had actually been kidnapped today? Think about it. It would be one less problem for you to guard."
Rowan's eyes widened. He made a small choking sound, like he couldn't believe the question.
"My lord," he said quickly, clearing his throat. "That's not something to joke about."
Noel tilted his head. "Isn't it?"
Rowan's face hardened. "If anything like that happened, your father would blame me. I'd be punished... or worse."
Noel laughed out loud, loud enough that people at nearby tables turned to look. He didn't care.
"Right," he said, still smiling as he wiped his eyes. "I forgot. Your job depends on keeping me alive and out of trouble."
Rowan didn't smile back. His expression stayed serious.
Noel sighed and looked out the window. His hand brushed his pocket, feeling the leather folder with the blank cheques.
'Thank God that didn't go missing. I had things I wanted to do today,' he thought. 'I thought buying more sweets... would make me run into one of the Ashfords.'
But after the kidnapping attempt, Rowan wouldn't let him out of sight again anytime soon.
"Maybe tomorrow," Noel said quietly.
Rowan nodded, looking relieved even if he didn't understand what Noel was saying or thinking.
They finished the meal in quiet. Rowan kept watching him, making sure he ate enough, checking if he needed anything. Noel noticed every time their eyes met.
When the plates were mostly empty, Noel folded his napkin. "I'm ready to go home."
Rowan stood immediately. "I'll get the carriage."
He stopped at the door and turned back, giving Noel a firm look. "Stay here. Don't leave the table."
Noel raised his hands. "I promise. I won't move."
Rowan left.
Noel leaned his elbows on the table, fingers linked, staring out at the street. His reflection in the glass looked back with his hair a bit messy now, a small bruise starting on his cheek, clothes wrinkled from the fight.
He looked alive.
'Is it too much that I wanted to see them again?' he thought. 'Arthur, Bennett, or Cedric. Just one. I'm sure it's not over. There will be more events. More chances. I'll ask Father for invitations.'
The carriage ride home was silent. Noel leaned against the side, watching buildings pass. Rowan sat opposite, hands on his knees, staring straight ahead.
As the manor came into view, Noel spoke.
"I want to see my father when we get back."
Rowan turned sharply. "You're going to tell him about today?"
Noel smiled. "No. I'm not hurt badly, and nothing serious happened. As long as you don't say anything, he doesn't need to know."
Rowan let out a slow breath. "Thank you."
For a second, his mouth softened, almost a smile.
They separated at the main entrance. Rowan headed toward the guards' quarters, and Noel walked to his father's office on the second floor.
The butler stood outside the door, straight and formal.
"I need to speak with my father," Noel said.
"He's meeting with your sisters right now," the butler replied.
Noel leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "That's okay. I'll wait."
The butler didn't argue. He just turned away from Noel and continued to stare at an open space.
It was about ten minutes before the door opened.
Noel's two older sisters came out. They were tall and elegant, dressed in fine day gowns, and their hair was perfect. They glanced at him as they passed... cold looks, no greeting.
Noel gave a small wave. "Nice to see you too."
They ignored him and walked away.
"Yeah, I expected that." He smiled and went into the office.
His father sat behind the large desk, papers spread out, face already red with irritation.
"What do you want?" he asked sharply, not looking up at first.
Noel stood straight, hands behind his back. "I wanted to ask if there were any new invitations for me. Events or gatherings."
His father looked up then, laughing harshly.
"You? Invitations? No one wants you anywhere. You're a troublemaker. A disgrace to this family. Respectable people avoid you."
Noel kept his face calm. "Then... has there been any news about ending my engagement to Lady Evelina? If there's none, I could head to the Ashford house and..."
His father stopped. He opened a drawer and pulled out a letter, still sealed. He broke it open, read quickly, then held it up.
"It's done," he said, voice dripping with anger. "The engagement is over. The Ashfords have cut all ties with us. No more business deals. No more support."
He clapped his hands slowly, mocking. "Well done, Noel. You've destroyed our future."
Noel stepped closer and took the letter, reading it himself. The words were formal, but clear... the Ashfords were ending everything because of him.
"I didn't want the marriage," Noel said quietly. "I never agreed to it."
His father slammed his hand on the desk, making papers jump.
"Be quiet!" he shouted. "You don't get to decide! You're useless! A waste! You've always been a disappointment... weak, selfish, embarrassing. No son of mine should act as you do. You're not fit to carry the Hartwell name. You're nothing but a burden. I've given you everything, and you ruin it all. I wish you'd never been born. I am waiting for you to make one more mistake... just one... and I'll throw you out myself. With no money, no name. Nothing at all. You'll be left stranded on the street. Kidnapped or maybe killed."
The words kept coming, each one sharper. Accusations of laziness, stupidity, and worthlessness. Comparisons to his brothers and sisters, how they were perfect and he was a failure. Threats of disownment, over and over.
Noel stood there, taking it all. His face didn't change. He didn't argue back.
When his father finally stopped, breathing hard and red-faced, the room was quiet.
Noel walked to the side table, poured a glass of water, and set it in front of his father calmly.
His father grabbed the glass and threw it.
It hit Noel hard on the forehead.
Pain burst across his skin. The glass shattered on the floor. Blood ran down Noel's face immediately, warm and quick.
"Get out," his father said, voice low now. "I can't stand looking at you."
Noel bowed his head slightly. "Yes, Father."
He turned and left.
Outside, the butler saw the blood and stepped forward. "Young master... should I call a doctor?"
Noel touched the cut gently. It was bleeding steadily. "No. It's fine."
"Understood then!" The butler left without any expression on his face as he never cared.
He walked to his room alone, up the stairs, down the long hallway. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it for a moment.
Then he crossed to the mirror, pulling off his shirt as he went. The movement pulled at bruises from the fight, making him hiss.
"Damn it," he muttered. "Shit. This hurts."
He cleaned the cut with water from the basin, pressing a cloth to it until the bleeding slowed. He wrapped a clean bandage around his head.
His chest felt heavy and tight.
'Why does this bother me?' he thought. 'The insults. The hate. In my old life, I didn't have a father like this who insulted me like this. Even if I'm not his real son... Why does it still hurt?'
He sat on the bed, staring at nothing.
'I've changed everything,' he realised. 'The engagement is over. The plot is broken. But I don't care. If he really throws me out... If I get freedom... It might be worth it. Maybe that's when. I'll get to do whatever it is that I want. Maybe I should indeed try to get expelled.'
He lay back, groaning as his body protested.
"Everything hurts," he whispered to the empty room.
The cut on his head throbbed.
But under the pain, something else stirred... determination.
'I know my body hurts like hell but I'll find a way to see them again. No matter what.'
He bit his lower lip and suddenly groaned when his elbow touched his ribs.