Chapter 11

AUNT áINE MARCHED THEM through the corridors, the massive form of her husband tailing the chosen men from behind. She spoke as she walked, her clipped, subtly accented voice echoing like a siren’s.

“My husband and I have deemed you to have values similar to our own, but” – she turned abruptly to face the men, and Benjamin would’ve crashed into her if it weren’t for William’s fast reflexes, pulling the lad to an abrupt halt – “mark my words. Should any of you display any form of behaviour to make me question your virtues, you will be immediately removed from this facility, by force if necessary. Have I made myself clear?”

The four men nodded in unison, and William couldn’t help but feel a growing warmth towards the woman, despite feeling as if he were being scolded like a child.

“Good,” she said, whipping around and continuing her march. “Now, as you’ve probably guessed, this isn’t a typical matchmaking service. The twist is that this whole process is about choice . The men you are about to meet are our other guests, they will be able to talk you through what to expect,” she said, reaching the top of the stairs and frustratingly not out of breath, unlike the four men – five if you included her husband – trailing behind her. “Your things have been delivered to your rooms. Some of you will have to double up as we’ve run out of room. You and you,” she said, pointing to William and Ben. “Wilfred said you were quite chummy, so we’ve put you pair together for now. You,” she said to the rather delicate-looking man with limp mousey hair but a glistening smile, nonetheless, “will be rooming with David. He’s been here for a few months now, and he’ll keep you right. And Charles,” she said, eying up the menacing man, “you have been allocated your own room.” Her eyes narrowed in on the purple flower in his top pocket. As quick as a flash of lightning, she’d plucked the flower from his pocket. “Where did you get this?”

“I found it growing on the side of the road while the carriage stopped for a break. I just thought it would look nice in my pocket for when I met the ladies,” Charles said. While his voice portrayed innocence, William could feel Charles watching him from the corner of his eye.

“Well, do not pick it if you see it again. It’s poisonous.”

The moment Aunt áine’s attention was elsewhere, Charles’s stare once more focused on William as if he were waiting for something. Had Charles known that the plant was poisonous? Was his intense stare a warning to William that he intended to cause him harm? But then why be so blatant about it? William wondered what on earth made áine and Angus think a man like that would be a good match for one of their girls?

áine stopped at the mouth of a long corridor with at least a dozen doors flanking it. “I’ll pass you over to my husband now as I really must get back to the other house. Angus?”

Angus made his way to his wife’s side. He stood at least two, if not three, heads higher than his wife. Despite that, William thought that he wouldn’t be able to decide who would be the most frightening of the duo to meet down a darkened alleyway. Angus leaned in and kissed his wife’s forehead. William shuffled on his feet uncomfortably, as too did Ben and the wispy looking man.

“Och, yis’ll need to get used to it, lads! Ye’ll be seein’ worse than that, I can tell ye! Probably doin’ it, too,” Angus boomed.

“Don’t frighten the poor men, mo chroí ,” Aunt áine said as she walked around the men and began to descend the stairs. She stopped on the second step and turned to face them. “You may well see things that you’re perhaps not accustomed to seeing. And I am not just talking about outward displays of affection. Every person in here has the right to love if that love is reciprocated. You’ll do well to bear that in mind.”

áine’s violet eyes met each and every one of the men, and William, who had no doubt whatsoever of the dire reality of áine’s threat, couldn’t help but smile. Aside from his two servants, he’d never witnessed that level of protectiveness from another person.

“Right, lads!” Angus huffed, ignoring the looks of apprehension on each of the men’s faces following áine’s warning. “Yis will have about an hour to settle an’ get changed if yis wish. Yis have just missed dinner, so there’ll be some sandwiches in yer room. We have three soirees a week, which is yer chance to interact wi’ the women. Yer first one is t’night, but ye dinnae have to go if yer no feelin’ up to it just yet.”

The wispy man let out an audible sigh of relief from William’s side.

“If ye do want to go, be ready and in the hallway fer the eighth bell. There are only three rules. The first one is this: respect the flowers. Some of the women that will be there have had a very traumatic past, and it has taken them a lot of courage to even come down and join the soiree, and others simply dinnae wish to talk to yis yet. Yis are to respect this. If a woman is wearin’ a white lily on her wrist, dinnae engage. Dinnae talk to them, dinnae approach them, dinnae gawk at them. Understood?”

William nodded, as did the rest.

“Good. Now, some women may be wearing a wee marigold corsage. This can mean one of two things. Either they dinnae want oot more than friendship right now, or they have already found a suitor and dinnae wish to get to ken anyone else romantically, aye? Yis can talk to them – in fact, we encourage yis to make friends wi’ the ladies, they really are a hoot! But dinnae pursue any of the marigold wearin’ ladies, aye?”

The men nodded in unison.

“If yis see a woman wearing a rose corsage, on the other hand, she’s open to gettin’ to ken the men on a romantic level. Go, mingle, and show them yer best side, aye?”

William nodded, listing off the rules in his head. Roses for romance. Marigolds for mutual interest. Lilies to be left alone.

“Rule number two!” Angus boomed. “No means no. And let me be crystal clear on this – if a lassie says ‘no’, then she means it. ‘No’ does nae mean ‘pester me until I give in’. If I hear of a lassie havin’ to say ‘no’ more than once, ye’ll be thrown into a carriage and sent on yer merry way. Understood?”

The men all nodded again in unison.

“Rule number three is an easy one. It’s respect. Yis will respect every single person under our roof. Yis will speak to the staff with the same respect yis speak to meself and áine. Yis will nae speak to women like all they have is air between their ears. That may be the way it’s done out there” – Angus jutted his chin at nothing in particular, but William guessed the gesture meant the rest of society – “but here we treat everyone with respect and value their opinions. Yer all equal here. We value their choice to love whomever they choose. And we value their choice to do with their body what they choose. Yis needn’t think that yis are gonna be walking into a pit of hoors, lads, despite the stories I’m sure yis have heard. If a lassie asks ye to join her in her bed, she is nae to be thought any less off. And at the same time, ye needn’t feel obliged to take her up on her offer if ye dinnae want to. The lassies will be havin’ the same talk as youse are now. Ye may also see some relationships that are less than conventional. Yis are to keep yer opinions to yerself unless ye want to be shipped off home, aye?”

William nodded. The rules would be easy for him to follow; they were no different to how he treated women in his day-to-day life. He glanced about the other men, none of whom looked like they were struggling with the rules either.

“Good. Now, let me show yis to yer rooms.”

As Angus walked them down the corridor, one by one directing them to their bedrooms, William could hear the odd peal of laughter and excited chitter from behind bedroom doors as the other residents got themselves ready for the soiree.

“This is youse, lads,” Angus said, throwing the door open with unnecessary force. Ben looked worryingly to William as if the whole situation had just become very real. William walked in ahead of the young lad and had to stifle a gasp at the sheer opulence of his new bedroom. He wasn’t sure what he thought his accommodation was to be like, but he guessed he’d imagined it to be something like the old servant’s quarters that he’d found his mother’s painting in. He hadn’t expected the rooms to be like this .

Everything was a deep burgundy, with velvet drapes on the four-poster beds and matching heavy curtains. Dark oak clad three of the walls, while the wall at the heads of the beds was bare stone. All of the various pieces of furniture were dark oak, draped in delicate lace doilies. While grand and rich, the room also felt lived in and homely. Unlike the Viscount’s gaudy home, everything here just looked like it belonged.

A stone fireplace sat carved into the wall opposite the beds. Stacks of dried peat sat in a wicker basket to the side, creating a delightful muted organic must in the air. William longed to light it.

As if reading his mind, Angus said, “There’s nae point in putting yer fire on yet – that is unless yis want to sit out the party. But one of the servants will have it roaring for when yis get home. If ye do come home to yer own beds, that is.” He jovially slapped Benjamin on the shoulder, sending the young lad tumbling. “Och, sorry wee laddie. Forget me own strength at times!” Angus stuck out a shovel-like hand and pulled Benjamin into a standing position once more.

“Thanks,” Benjamin mumbled.

“Yis have about forty-five minutes left, lads,” said Angus before disappearing into the corridor.

Both Benjamin and William silently studied the room, quickly realising that their bags – or bag, singular, in William’s case – had been unpacked and put away for them. William took the bed closest to the door. While this place seemed like a haven, one could never be too sure. And should an axe-wielding murderer burst into their room, William, closest to the door, would be the first to die, hopefully giving the young lad an extra few seconds to escape.

William felt almost giddy at the thought. Aside from his two servants, he’d never had anyone in his life that he would consider dying for. Of course, he was excited to find a wife during his time here that he could feel so fiercely protective of, but a friend was equally as satisfying. He glanced at the young man. Benjamin was rifling through his allocated armoire and pulling out a variety of white shirts that all looked identical to William. There must have been some subtle difference, however, as most got tossed onto a pile on the floor with an accompanying tsk while others were held out and inspected before being put in a slightly neater pile on the bed.

William crossed to the vanity table and poured some water into a bowl. Surprisingly, it was still lukewarm. He washed himself quickly and wet his hair using his fingers, twisting each spiral. Finally, he looked from his beard to one of the two silver razor blades that had been left on the side. Normally, Martin would shave William’s beard. As a teen when he had first begun sprouting facial hair, sparse as it was back then, he hadn’t even bothered asking his father to teach him, and his father would only ever instruct the valet to visit William’s room to make him presentable if there was a visitor coming who would insist on seeing the entire family. William had a kindly old aunt on his father’s side who would demand to have William present at every family meal, much to his father’s disappointment.

But he had no Martin here to shave him. That said, now that his hair was slicked back and his coils tamed, the contrast of the slightly unkempt stubble did give him somewhat of a handsome, roguish look.

“I just can’t decide what to wear,” Benjamin said with an exasperated sigh as William finished pulling on his only other shirt that had been packed for him.

William turned to Benjamin with the intention of flattering him – in earnest, of course, for every article of clothing that he’d seen Benjamin pull from the armoire was a thing of subtle elegance – but Benjamin interrupted him with a sharp intake of breath.

“You can’t meet the ladies in that,” Benjamin said, aghast. “You look like you’ve just come back from a day in the fields!”

William felt his face flush. He didn’t want to admit that he regularly wore his best outfit into the fields when neither of the trio had the energy to do a load of laundry after a hard day of toil.

Benjamin blanched. “Oh, that was very rude of me. My apologies,” he said. “But if you would ever like to borrow any of my clothes, please do. My brother and I used to wear each other’s clothes all the time, and it’s been a long while since I’ve had someone to share with.”

William would normally baulk at such obvious charity. But as he met the soft stare of Benjamin, he realised that charity wasn’t quite what the young lad was offering. It was brotherhood.

William chewed the inside of his cheek. Despite being a son of the Viscount, William had never been bought a single item of clothing by his father. Instead, he was forced to wear his brother’s hand-me-downs, and occasionally only after they had been through a number of servants’ hands first. The thought of finally having a fine garment on, if only for a single night, was enough to have him nodding his head in agreement. “Are you sure?” he asked.

Benjamin beamed. “Of course I’m sure! Here.” He picked up one of the white shirts from the pile on the bed. “This one would go very well with the suit I saw you eying earlier.”

A few minutes later, William looked like a completely different person. The collar of his blisteringly white silk shirt cupped his chin, making his skin tone look a shade darker than his usual off-white shirt did. William had initially been worried about the fan of white ruffles on the front of the shirt, but Benjamin had tactfully tamed most of them beneath the black tailcoat. At first glance, the tailcoat looked plain. However, upon closer inspection, the lapels and cuffs had a damask design intricately embroidered in the exact same shade of black as the rest of the coat. Tucked under his matching wool trousers were quite possibly the most comfortable pair of boots William had ever worn. They barely skimmed his ankles, but the polished leather and silver eyelets completed the simple yet exquisitely rich look. Never in his life had he looked as though he might belong among the gentry until just that very moment, and William decided there and then that he would allow himself the indulgence to enjoy it.

“What if they won’t talk to me?” Benjamin whispered from William’s side.

It took William a moment to recognise the change in demeanour of the young man. “Why wouldn’t they talk to you?” William asked.

“Well, you know, if they find out about my, er, condition.”

William had an overwhelming urge to throw his arms around the lad and tell him everything would be alright. Instead, he placed a hand on Benjamin’s shoulder. “Ben, you explained in your letter about your condition, yes?”

Benjamin nodded.

“You wouldn’t have been invited here if áine and Angus thought you were a lost cause. Mark my words, there will be a woman here who would love nothing more than to spend the rest of their life with you, Benjamin.”

“Benedict,” the lad said, an appreciative smile etched across his face.

“What?”

“My name. It’s Benedict. I had planned to call myself Andrew while I was here, but I forgot. I panicked when I introduced myself to you and managed to spit out Benjamin instead of my real name. Though I rather think I’m not nearly crafty enough to keep up my alias,” he said with a smile. “So, I ought to come clean with you and tell you my real name.”

“Benedict suits you,” William said, a smile tugging on his lips.

“Thank you,” Benedict said with relief. “I’m just worried I won’t know what to say to any of the women. I’ve not done this” – he gestured to his formal attire, which William presumed meant he was referring to the soiree they were about to attend – “before. Do you think they would let me wear a lily corsage?”

“I don’t know. But I tell you what, I’ll be by your side, and if you’re not ready to speak to any of the ladies, I’ll fight them off you. Well, maybe not fight,” William said, his smile growing wider. “But I’ll distract them long enough for you to slip away.”