The Heart of Summerlin (2/5)

[redorchids]

Masterpost and Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Epilogue | Bonus material




Waking up had been interesting for Brendon, to say the least. His dreams had been filled with his family and the way their lives had been before everyone had branched off to advance the family line, back when his brothers were teaching him how to ride his first pony and his sisters let him play with their hair. When he’d opened his eyes to a strange room and Spencer lying beside him, his heart had skipped a beat, and his body had stiffened for a moment. Everything had come back quickly after that, but he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling of nostalgia, even after he’d woken Spencer and they’d started their journey to Summerlin once more.

They travelled all day, only stopping for lunch a little after noon, and by late evening, Brendon was exhausted. His legs were cramping up, and the monotonous trot of the horse’s hooves was making him sleepy. He was about to suggest they quit their journey for the day when the carriage stopped abruptly, lurching him forward and quite effectively waking him up.

Spencer’s hand came up quickly, pressing into his shoulder to steady him. “Are you all right?”

Brendon smiled, slightly embarrassed. “Just caught off guard. Are we here?”

Spencer nodded, opening the carriage door before the driver had a chance to. He stepped down and helped Brendon down as well.

The first thing Brendon saw was a huge mansion. He’d thought his father’s summer home in Brighton was excessive with its ten bedrooms and four acres of bordering land. This home absolutely dwarfed it.

“It’s,” Brendon stammered, trying to find a word to even describe the grandeur of the estate, “big.” He moved his head around, noting the surrounding gardens where at least three gardeners were hard at work, and felt a spark of apprehension shoot through him. The Urie family business was successful, to be sure, but enough to help bail out something like this? Brendon swallowed.

“You’ll get used to it,” Spencer assured him, smiling at Brendon and taking his hand. “Most of it is just bedrooms. Come on, it’s late. Let’s get inside.”

Spencer led him to the entryway, where the door was opened by a stern-looking man roughly three times Brendon’s size. “My lord, you were due back this morning.”

Spencer smiled, bright and genuine. “I got a bit side-tracked, Zack. And, as you know, I’m more than old enough to look after myself, these days.”

“Blame your sisters,” Zack said as he took Spencer’s hat and coat. “They straight out refused to work with their tutor without your safe return. I grounded them from the stables, but they disappeared after dinner, as did Misty and Annabelle. They didn’t reappear until bedtime.”

Spencer laughed. “You should have known better than to go against the collective will of Jackie and Crystal.”

“Well, someone has to.” Zack gave an exasperated sigh, then looked at Brendon like he’d just discovered him. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realise we had a guest.”

Brendon shifted nervously.

“He’s not a guest.” Spencer moved behind him and helped him out of his coat, passing it on to a servant that was hovering nearby. “Brendon, this is Zack, my steward. He basically takes care of just about everything I don’t have time for. Zack, meet Brendon, my husband.”

Zack gave a sharp laugh. When Spencer didn’t laugh as well, Zack’s smile dropped. “You aren’t joking.”

“I’m not,” Spencer said, taking Brendon’s hat as well. “This is Lord Brendon Boyd Urie, previously of the Portsmouth Uries and the new Marquess of Summerlin. We were married late last night.”

Brendon startled at the new title associated with his name. No one had actually said it until now, and even though he had married Spencer for his title, it was a bit of a shock to hear.

“I suppose that would explain your late arrival.” Zack smiled wanly. “Well, congratulations, my lords. Our young ladies will be delighted to have another brother they can terrorise.”

Spencer snorted. “I’m sure. I trust they’re asleep by now?”

Zack nodded. “I checked on them just a minute ago. They were out like lights. I’m sure their deviance is just exhausting.”

Spencer patted Zack’s arm. “Thank you, Zack. You’ve got to be tired yourself, running after them all day. Go on to bed. Brendon and I can take care of ourselves from here.”

Zack smiled. “If you’re sure you’ll be okay. It was nice to meet you, Lord Urie.”

“You too,” Brendon said quickly as Zack took his leave. “Well, he’s nice.”

Spencer nodded. “He is. He’s a little rough around the edges, but that’s what my father liked about him when he hired him, and that’s what I like about him now. Plus, for all his exasperation, he loves my sisters, and my sisters love him. But come on, I’ll take you up to your room.”

Spencer led Brendon up the long, spiralling staircase in the front entry and down a hallway, turning a couple of corners and going up another flight of stairs along the way. By the time Spencer actually opened a door, Brendon was hopelessly lost.

The room Spencer brought him to was large and decorated with ornate, mahogany furniture. There was a huge canopy bed in the middle of everything with heavy, rich velvet tapestries tied to the four posters and a copious amount of pillows on top of what looked like silk bedding. An unlit fireplace dominated the corner of the room and a writing desk sat across from it. All in all, the room was beautiful but relatively lifeless.

“I assumed this room would be easiest to explain to the servants while still giving you your space,” Spencer said. He pointed to a door near the writing desk. “That door leads into my room. This is the room set aside for my future spouse and used to be my mother’s until she-well.” Spencer faltered for a second, and Brendon found himself wondering just how old he’d been when his mother had passed away. “It was converted to a nursery after that,” Spencer continued. “And since my sisters grew out of it, it’s been mostly used as a guest room. I can make other arrangements, of course, if you’d prefer something else.”

“No, no.” Brendon smiled. “This is great. Thank you.”

“I’ll have someone bring up your clothes in the morning,” Spencer said. “I assume you have more things that you couldn’t fit in that bag of yours. We’ll send for those later.”

Brendon opened his mouth to ask about the money, wanting to know exactly how bad the situation was and how seriously he should take the knot in his stomach that had grown larger with every new room and opulent wall treatment they’d walked past on their way through the house. Before he could find the words, Spencer interrupted him by taking Brendon’s hand in his, squeezing it softly.

“I’ll be in the next room over, if you need anything,” Spencer said, letting Brendon’s hand go slowly, as though reluctant to leave. He looked tired, Brendon thought-far too tired to sit down with Brendon and go through the estate’s financials, to be sure. And, worrying aside, Brendon most certainly was too; it could wait until the morning.

Brendon took a step back, resisting the sudden urge to walk Spencer over to the bed and tuck him in between the sheets. “Goodnight, Spencer.” Christ, but it was still weird to call Spencer by his first name.

“Goodnight, Brendon,” Spencer replied, shutting the bedroom door behind him on his way out.

And then there was nothing but Brendon, the furniture, and how absolutely drained he was. He thought somewhere in the back of his mind that he should probably write to his family, explain everything that had happened in the past forty-eight hours, but the thought never really got past how dreadfully tired he felt.

He kicked off his shoes and peeled off his clothes, letting them land where they would, and dropped down on the bed, barely having time to pull the covers over his body before falling into a fitful sleep.



Spencer closed the door to what was now Brendon’s room behind him and allowed himself the luxury of leaning against it for a moment, trying to compose himself. He could faintly hear Brendon move around on the other side of the oak, humming to himself as he got ready for bed.

My husband is in there, Spencer told himself, letting the thought run through him like hot liquid until it settled deep in his chest.

Not only his husband. Brendon was in there. The same Brendon who had unknowingly swept him off his feet two years back and that Spencer had been convinced he would never see again. Spencer felt weak.

God, he needed Ryan back to help him clear his head and make sure Spencer didn’t end up following Brendon around with a demented smile all day long, picking him flowers and composing odes to his beauty (though Spencer wasn’t too afraid he would actually go that far; unlike his best friend, he prided himself on having some self-control in these types of situations).

He pushed himself off the door and headed for bed, already knowing that sleep would be the last thing on his mind with Brendon on the other side of the wall.



Brendon woke up slowly, wading through a haze of asleep and awake until he finally scrounged together the strength and coherence to sit up.

His head was pounding, the spot behind his eyes throbbing painfully. He pinched the bridge of his nose. It was almost like a hangover, he thought, except he knew he hadn’t had nearly that much fun the night before. He waited for the pain to subside enough that he could bear opening his eyes again before scrubbing a hand over his face and looking around.

The room was even more beautiful in daylight, windows on the opposite wall from the bed displaying a charming view of a nearby lake. It still felt a little cold and vaguely impersonal, but at least Brendon knew where he was.

The wardrobe caught his eye, and he noticed that its doors were wide open and all of his clothes had been hung inside. He pushed off his comforter and walked over, pulling a shirt off the hanger and noting that it was freshly ironed.

Unsure of what he was expected to do now, he tried to keep to his normal routine as closely as possible. So, get up, get dressed, go downstairs in a bit.

First, however, he had an important letter to write to his family.

Brendon rifled through the writing desk, checking the drawers for quills, ink and paper. He found some in the second drawer and pulled it out, surprised at the elegant rose design that had been printed at the head of the paper, stamped on a jar of ink and wrapped over the feather pen in the form of a thin, golden wire cage. It was actually a very beautiful set-clearly custom made and very expensive-and Brendon wondered if he ought to be using it at all. He didn’t see any other supplies, though, which didn’t leave him with much of a choice.

Squaring his shoulders, he carefully dipped the quill into the small pot of ink and began to write.



Spencer managed a lovely three and a half minutes to himself at the breakfast table before a veritable tornado hit him in the shape of his two younger sisters. They each took a side of him, propping their elbows up on the table and folding their hands to rest their chins on them as they watched him with steady blue eyes. Their level of synchronicity shouldn’t have been quite as unnerving to Spencer as it was.

He tried to shrug it off and continued buttering his toast. “You know, Greta would be absolutely horrified with your manners if she were here and could see those elbows. Or those hands under your chins. All her hard work for nothing.”

Crystal dutifully placed her hands in her lap, though it took Jackie one huge sigh and a grumble to do the same. Their eyes remained trained on Spencer.

“For being raised as noble ladies, you’re both awful at it,” Spencer said, raising an eyebrow. “I suppose you know about Brendon.”

“And we are very cross with you for not telling us,” Crystal said.

“Heartbroken, even,” Jackie cut in.

“Enough that our hearts will never fully heal,” Crystal said. “Though I suppose that rose silk we saw when last in town might help somewhat.”

“Though a lot of it will be needed,” Jackie added, nodding importantly.

Spencer rolled his eyes. “You won’t be going to court for another year,” he said. “I highly doubt that you’ll be needing new ball gowns before then. By the way, what did you do to Zack that would make him give me up so quickly?”

“We have our ways,” Crystal assured him.

“And I believe we would have got new dresses made for the occasion, if we’d been informed that you were to be married, Spencer,” Jackie added. “We’re really the ones that got the short end of the stick in this.”

“Fine.” Spencer threw up his hands in surrender. “Have your dresses. But if either of you even attempt to get those necklines more than an inch under your collarbones, I’ll be forced to alter them myself. Again.”

They each made faces. “You’re absolutely horrible, Spencer,” Jackie huffed.

Crystal folded her arms. “Not to mention completely out of style. All of the other girls our age have low necklines on their evening gowns.”

Spencer arched a brow. “You really don’t need any more evening gowns as it is. Regardless, it’s either no more than an inch under your collarbones or nothing, understood?”

The twins looked like they were going to protest again, but were cut off by the sound of footsteps entering the doorway of the dining room.

The three of them looked up to see Brendon fidgeting in the doorway. His hair was mussed with sleep still, though slightly flattened on top, as though he’d made an effort at straightening it out with his fingers. Spencer couldn’t help a mental flash of what his own hands would look like fisted in that hair, being the reason it was sticking up in the back. He quickly lowered his eyes.

He set down his toast-which he’d still not been able to take a bite out of, thanks to his sisters-and stood politely. “Good morning, Brendon. I hope you didn’t hear my sisters’ bickering, but if you did, I suppose it’s as good a way as any to be introduced to them.” He extended his hands to his sisters, helping them stand. “This is Jackie.” He beckoned to his left.

Jackie curtsied prettily. “It’s wonderful to meet our brother’s husband.”

Spencer gestured to his right. “And this is Crystal.”

Crystal curtsied as well. “Our brother’s very handsome husband.”

Spencer suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, which certainly wasn’t an easy task. “Girls, this is Brendon, your brother-in-law. He’s a long way from where he grew up, so I expect you to make him feel at home.”

Crystal began pulling her long, blonde hair up, tying it with the ribbon that had been wrapped around her wrist. “Sorry for our disastrous state of dress. We didn’t realise you would be up so early. You two came in so late that I’d have thought you’d sleep in.”

Brendon smiled. “I’m an early riser. I’d have been down sooner, but I got a bit lost on the way here. And I think you both look lovely. It’s really nice to meet you.”

Spencer couldn’t help but be slightly relieved that Brendon at least wasn’t repulsed by the idea of having fifteen-year-old sister-in-laws. “Now that we’ve all met, would you like something to eat?” he asked. “We have toast, eggs, and yams this morning. Or, if that’s not to your taste, I’m sure we can convince Alex to make something else,” he hastened to add when Brendon made a small grimace.

“No, I usually love all of that,” Brendon assured him. “I just have a headache. Um.” He looked at the table. “Do we have any tea, or..?”

“Of course!” Jackie piped up, hurrying to the cabinet containing the china and pulling out a cup and saucer. “And if my nose isn’t lying to me, it’s peppermint. That should definitely help with your head.”

“Come sit, Brendon.” Crystal pulled out her chair, offering it to him with a huge smile. “I’m sure you’ll feel better once you have some food in you. Can’t start the day off without a decent breakfast.”

Brendon hesitated for a moment before taking a seat. Jackie placed the cup in front of him, and Crystal poured the tea. “Thank you.”

Spencer shook his head. “Come on, girls, you’re smothering him.”

“We’re only trying to make him feel welcome.” The girls pouted, rearranging themselves to sit across from Brendon and Spencer. “We want him to feel at home just as much as you do.”

Brendon smiled. “That’s really sweet of you. I’m sure I’ll get used to everything soon enough. Just as soon as I stop getting lost in this house.”

Jackie laughed. “Good luck with that. We were born in this house, and I still get lost going to the washroom some nights.”

“Very encouraging, Jackie,” Spencer muttered as he took his seat, a little embarrassed at how forward his sisters were being. “How’s your tea, Brendon?”

Brendon dutifully took a sip. “It’s good, thank you. What do you know?” He smiled at the girls. “I think my headache is going away already. Your tea is practically magic.”

“Why, thank you.” Crystal grinned, pouring herself, and then Jackie, a cup.

“You see, Spencer? We were just being nice.” Jackie took a sip of her tea, humming happily.

“Right,” Spencer said sceptically, turning his attention back to Brendon. “Did you sleep well?”

Brendon nodded. “I basically passed out once I got into bed. No problems there.”

“I’m sorry you don’t feel well this morning,” Spencer tried. “Maybe you should take a walk around the grounds?”

Brendon smiled at him. “I think I will. Would you care to join me?”

Spencer felt his heart do a small flip. “I actually can’t. I have some business with Zack and one of the girls’ tutors to attend to, and I believe Greta, their governess, is returning today, so I’ll have to touch base with her as well.”

“Oh,” Spencer wasn’t sure if he was just imagining things, or if Brendon actually seemed to deflate a bit. “Maybe next time.”

“Spencer’s loss,” Crystal said, leaning toward Brendon. “We would love to show you around the grounds.”

“Oh!” Jackie tapped Crystal’s arm. “We could show him Misty and Annabelle!”

“No, you couldn’t,” Spencer cut her off. “I believe Zack grounded you from the stables last night for not cooperating with your tutor yesterday, and you blatantly ignored him. No, don’t you dare even open your mouths to say it was because you were worried for my well-being. You just wanted to play with your horses instead of studying. You’re both going to be missing those horses for a week now.”

“But, Spencer,” Jackie whined, “you know Misty needs to be ridden daily, or she gets temperamental!”

“And no one but me can groom Annabelle’s mane just right.” Crystal frowned. “Spencer, this is cruel and unusual.”

Spencer shrugged. “You really should have thought about those things before you disobeyed Zack.” He brought out his pocket watch and flipped it open. “You two really need to head to the East wing parlour anyway. Master Weekes should be here soon.”

The girls groaned but grabbed two pieces of toast and smothered them with jam before taking their leave, grumbling all the while.

When they’d finally gone, Spencer sighed. “I’m sorry about them. They’re... easily excitable.”

Brendon shook his head. “No, no. They’re fine. I like them already. I always wanted a younger sibling to pick on. Now I have two.”

Spencer smiled at him. “Feel free to pick on them to your heart’s desire. They could use a little bit of their own medicine. The servants can barely handle them as it is.”

Brendon laughed, and Spencer was possibly the most pathetic person in the entire world for feeling so weak in the knees about it. “They’ve just got fire in them. That’s all. I think they’re great.”

“I’m certainly glad you think so.” Spencer checked the time again, wishing it would somehow have stopped, leaving him free to stay at the table with Brendon. “I regret to say that I have to go. The tutor I was talking about should be here by now, and I really do need to meet with him. Feel free to explore the house and grounds. Nothing is off limits, and if anyone gives you any trouble, just tell them to report to me, and I’ll take care of everything. I wish I could have shown you around myself, I-”

Brendon seemed conflicted for a moment, as though he had something else he wanted to say, but clearly decided against it and instead waved him off with a carefree smile. “It’s okay, Spencer. I understand. Go take care of your estate. I’m fine, really.”

“Good. I’ll see you at dinner.” Spencer recalled all the breakfasts when his father would say something similar to his mother, then kiss the top of her head before going off to do whatever it was that needed attending to. He could barely stifle doing the same to Brendon. He pushed his chair out.

“Right,” Brendon said. “Do we eat in here for dinner, or is there a more formal dining hall?”

“Here. There’s a formal hall too, in the East wing, but that’s only for holidays, of for when we have extended family or guests here. It’s much too large for just the three-four, sorry-of us.” He felt himself flush at his mistake.

“Okay. I’ll see you at dinner then.” Brendon took one last sip of his tea before standing as well. “I think I’ll take your advice and walk around for a bit.”

Spencer nodded and watched Brendon as he left the room. He allowed himself a moment of wistfulness, picturing Brendon smiling up at him as they walked through the grounds, before setting off for the East parlour to Crystal and Jackie’s waiting tutor.



Getting lost outside the house was, luckily, less of an issue than getting lost inside it, Brendon realised happily. Mostly because the house was so large; it towered high above the fields and gardens, easy to spot even from a distance.

He walked in a wide circle around it first, registering a back garden with several pavilions on one side, stables and assorted buildings on another, and the lake he had seen from his bedroom window that morning on the third. Further away, he could see endless acres of fields, and a forest that appeared to go one for miles, trees bright green with new leaves. A little bit apart from the house, he noticed a long row of horses being led out to pasture by a group of servants he had yet to meet.

Brendon bit his lip.

The more he saw, the more worried he became. Spencer had called his situation desperate, and yet all Brendon could see were healthy-looking crops and well maintained buildings. Servants were everywhere, looking busy but happy with their work. Either Spencer was heavily in debt, living far beyond his means, or there was something else there that Brendon wasn’t seeing.

He really needed to talk to Spencer about it. And soon.

He also found that news of his arrival at the estate must have spread like wildfire that morning; everywhere he went, people lowered their heads politely, murmuring a “Good morning, my lord” as he passed. None of them actually came up to him, however, and instead of feeling respected and revered like Brendon figured he probably should, the distance mostly just made him feel uncomfortable.

By mid-day, his feet were sore, his stomach empty and Brendon himself was in a rather desolate mood. If he had been at home, he would have gone to the kitchen and crept up on the chair by the furnace, chatting with the kitchen boys while they went about their work and trying to charm Cook into making him his favourite dishes.

At this house, he wasn’t sure he’d even find the kitchen.

He heard people approaching and reflexively drew back, ducking behind a thick rose bush as the voices drew nearer. It was a man and a woman, walking with their heads held closely together, mostly hidden from view by the woman’s parasol. They stopped just a couple of yards away from Brendon, and as he watched, the couple separated with a quick embrace and the woman left, looking back over her shoulder and smiling as she hurried up a path Brendon was rather certain lead towards the back of the house. The man waited for a few moments and then turned, allowing Brendon to see his face for the first time.

He looked familiar. Brendon wracked his brain, trying to remember where he might have seen the man before. Something in his mind told him fireworks had something to do with it, but the only real ones Brendon had seen had been at the royal wedding, and-

The man moved closer to the bushes Brendon was hiding behind, reaching out to pick a white rose and placing it in his button hole. His eyes were a light brown, and Brendon had a sudden flash of those same eyes meeting his fleetingly in the middle of a crowd, the other man helping his friend move away from the people surrounding them as Brendon struggled to get free from a pair of broken, mechanical wings.

Brendon watched Ryan Ross leave the garden by the same path the woman had left, wondering idly why a man who was rumoured to be Spencer’s closest friend wouldn’t enter by the front door.



Spencer flipped open his book and stared blankly at the page. So far, he’d succeeded in getting absolutely nothing of use done that morning, thoughts of Brendon crossing his mind at every turn, far more interesting than his accounts for the past couple of months.

Especially since the accounts were just fine and in no real need of scrutiny. Spencer’s father had always managed the estate well, and Spencer had had the privilege of learning from him from a very young age.

He sighed, flipping through the last pages again. Even his expense account was in the black-a definite benefit of spending less time in town and more on his estate over the past year-and there was really nothing in the books that would make him look any less deceitful when telling Brendon that he’d never really needed to marry him at all. At least not for economic reasons.

Damn it.

Even though they barely knew each other, Spencer felt confident in assuming that Brendon would not feel comfortable being in his debt. From what Spencer could tell so far, Brendon was well aware of his rank and place in society, and proud of himself and his family. And no matter how much Spencer already liked having him in the house and desperately wanted him to feel comfortable and at home, Brendon might still see it as charity once he realised that what he’d supplied to the deal in their decision to get married wouldn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things.

Spencer let his head fall heavily against the desk, indulging in the misfortune of his dilemma for a minute.

“Working hard as usual, I see,” a familiar voice said from the doorway.

Spencer looked up. “Ryan. When did you get here?”

“Just a few minutes ago. I snuck in through the back gardens.”

“Did everything go all right?”

“Like magic,” Ryan said. “Thank you.”

He held out a hand. Spencer took it. “I was happy to help.”

Ryan gave him another smile, then grabbed a chair for himself and sat down, putting up his feet on Spencer’s desk and cheerfully ignoring the glare Spencer directed at him.

“So, I hear there was a late night ceremony in Our Lady of Sorrows after we split up that night,” Ryan said, looking at Spencer, eyebrow raised.

Spencer ducked his head. “It was a spur of the moment thing.”

Ryan grinned, wide and delighted. “And here I thought you said you didn’t do spur of the moment.”

Spencer leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Yes, well.”

“I remember him, you know,” Ryan said. “The way your eyes kept seeking him out. How you looked after dancing with him after the coronation.”

Spencer blushed. He remembered it, too. Ryan had been absolutely awful teasing him about it.

“I didn’t know you had kept in contact,” Ryan continued. “I’m still trying to decide whether I should be mad at you for keeping it from me or congratulate you on the sneakiest courtship ever.”

Spencer bit his lip.

“You did keep in contact, didn’t you?” Ryan asked, taking down his feet and leaning forward. “You didn’t? Spence, what-”

“I ran into him by chance and told him I needed money,” Spencer blurted. “His family was forcing him to marry Lord Saporta for a title, so I offered mine instead. And I knew he’d never take it if he felt he couldn’t give me anything back, so I claimed to be impoverished.”

“That’s going to fall through pretty fast,” Ryan said. “Summerlin isn’t exactly a hovel.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Spencer sighed. “I want to tell him, I do. I just-need some time.”

“Time for what?”

Spencer really wished he knew. To successfully build a time machine, maybe.

“You mean to seduce him,” Ryan said suddenly.

Spencer jerked. “Of course not.”

“No, you do,” Ryan insisted. “You’re hoping he’ll fall in love with you and forget about the money.”

Something about that statement hit a little too close to home and made Spencer feel even worse about himself. “I just want to make him happy,” he argued. Which he definitely did. The way he’d felt when waking up in the inn after their wedding and seeing Brendon’s face on the pillow next to his, he’d known he’d try to give Brendon the sun and the moon if he were to ask for them.

He dropped his face in his hands with a frustrated sound. Ryan made a sound between a laugh and a sigh and patted his shoulder consolingly. It didn’t help very much.

There was a knock on the door, and Brendon stepped into the room. Spencer immediately straightened his back and folded his hands in his lap.

“I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced,” Ryan said, standing up. Spencer could practically hear the promise of future needling in his voice. “Spencer?”

Sometimes, Spencer really hated his best friend.

“Brendon, this is Ryan Ross, currently Viscount Ross and the future Duke of Rosings. Ryan, this is Brendon Urie, my husband and the new Marquess of Summerlin.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lord,” Brendon said, inclining his head in a bow.

“Likewise,” Ryan said, giving Spencer a small, amused smile before returning the bow. “And, please, call me Ryan. Spencer and I are practically brothers, after all.”

“All right,” Brendon said, looking a bit taken aback but happy. He turned to Spencer, asking something about dinner and whether Spencer would have time to go through some practical things with him before it. Spencer could see Ryan looking back and forth between them, the smile on his face growing alarmingly.

“So, Brendon,” Ryan said, completely ignoring Spencer’s look of ‘I know all your secrets too, don’t you dare’ and turning Brendon’s attention to him. “Has Spencer shown you his inventions yet?”



“They’re really not all that interesting,” Spencer insisted for what was at least the twentieth time. “Just bits of scrap, really.”

“It’s an entire room full of them, no matter what they are,” Ryan said, leading them through the house with the confidence of someone who felt like they belonged there. “Tell me, Brendon, aren’t you curious to see what kind of deep, dark secrets your husband is hiding from you?”

“I’m not-” Spencer said indignantly, cutting himself off and fixing Ryan with a pointed glare. “I’m merely suggesting that Brendon might have other plans, and that you-”

Part of Brendon felt a bit guilty at Spencer’s obvious reluctance. Another, bigger part, was dying of curiosity. Still. He slowed his steps. “I really don’t have to see them, if Spencer doesn’t want me to.”

“Don’t mind him, Brendon,” Ryan said, waving a hand absently as he led them down into what appeared to have once been the house’s cellar. “For all his protesting, he’s quite proud of his little trinkets.”

“They aren’t trinkets.”

Ryan tossed a smile over his shoulder. “You see?”

He led them to a door at the end of the stairwell and opened it with a flourish, extending his arm to welcome Brendon inside. “Welcome to Spencer’s evil lair.”

Spencer snorted. “Ryan has a flair for melodrama. Just ignore about three-fourths of what he says, and pare down the rest of his sentences into small words.”

Brendon laughed softly and stepped into the room, squinting to see in the dim light until Ryan turned the lamps up.

He gasped at what he saw.

Three of the walls had shelves built into them that took up the entire wall. Two of them were lined with various tools and pieces of shining metal, gold, silver, brass, and copper. Cogs were sorted by metal, then size, as were various bolts and screws, and various other objects were scattered across the shelves, ranging from little figurines to broken mirrors to clocks that read the wrong time.

But it was the third wall of shelves that had caught Brendon’s eye.

It was filled with finished products, most of which appeared to be boxes.

He started to reach for one that was completely composed of cogs but stopped short, turning to Spencer first. “May I..?”

Spencer’s hands were fidgeting with the buttons of his jacket, but he nodded.

Brendon delicately picked up the box, opening its lid. Immediately, it began to play a soft, sweet melody as the bottom of the box lifted to create a stage for a tiny, spinning porcelain figurine. The cogs on the outside spun slowly but were placed tightly enough together that they didn’t pinch Brendon’s skin, even though he could feel them moving against his palms.

Brendon, gently touched his finger to the figurine’s extended hand, feeling her twirl beneath him. “What song is it playing?”

“It doesn’t have a name.”

“You,” Brendon looked up at him then, gaping. “You mean that you wrote it yourself?”

Spencer nodded. “I wouldn’t necessarily say that I wrote it, more like fiddled around with different tines and their orders and created something that I thought sounded good, but. I created it, yes.”

Brendon looked at him wonderingly. Someone who could create such a beautiful music box, not to mention the music that it played, obviously spent a lot of time and care putting it together, looking for melodies in separate sounds and seeing the beauty in what other people would simply throw out. And there were dozens of boxes, all of them completely different. This wasn’t just a man with a title who Brendon happened to be married to.

He ducked his head, trying to suppress the sudden flush of heat he could feel threatening to spread on his face before speaking. “Spencer, these are beautiful.”

Spencer shrugged, still fidgeting with the buttons of his coat. “They’re just music boxes.”

Brendon carefully closed the box and placed it back on the shelf. “Something that beautiful that you spend that much time on isn’t just a music box.”

“Yes, well.” Spencer finally released his jacket, smoothing it down. “I think it’s about time for dinner. I should go tell the girls to get ready.”

Ryan gave Spencer a look that fell somewhere between disbelief and disappointment. Brendon felt much the same, but managed a nod. “Right. I should go wash up myself.”

He walked past the other two, his arm lightly brushing against Spencer’s. He stopped then, smiling. “Thank you for letting me see your inventions.”

Spencer hesitated, then returned the smile. “I’m glad you like them.”

Brendon left, heading for his room and managing to get there after only a couple of wrong turns. He splashed some water on his face and changed into a fresh shirt, trying to process everything he’d seen and experienced in the course of a day.

One thing was certain at least: his new life would definitely not be boring.



Spencer managed to avoid the subject of money when talking to Brendon for five days. It got increasingly difficult, as Brendon clearly wanted to discuss it, and Spencer ended up making up excuse after excuse for why he needed to close himself away in his study all day, or go on long inspection rounds of the grounds with his steward.

He could tell Brendon wasn’t happy about it; Spencer himself definitely wasn’t. But every time he squared his shoulders and went to tell Brendon the truth, he’d lose his nerve at the last minute.

On the fifth night, there was a knock on his door, just as Spencer was gone to bed. Not the outer door, but the one connecting his chambers to Brendon’s. Spencer tumbled out of bed more quickly than he ever had in his life, scrambling for his dressing gown and calling out a shaky “Yes?”

Brendon opened the door, similarly dressed in only his night clothes and carrying a candle from his room. “Hi.”

Spencer instinctively pulled his dressing gown tighter around himself. “Hey.”

“Can I come in?” Brendon asked. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about all week, but we never seem to find the time. I thought-” He broke off, eyes turning away for a moment before meeting Spencer’s again. “Night seems to be the only time when neither of us is busy.”

Spencer swallowed. Somehow, he must have managed a nod, however, because Brendon smiled at him and stepped further into the room. “Would you like something to drink?”

Brendon nodded gratefully. “Please.”

“Make yourself comfortable,” Spencer said, walking over to a small cabinet by the window and pulling out a bottle of aged, dark rum and two glasses.

When he turned around, he found Brendon sitting, not in one of the chairs by the fireplace as Spencer has intended, but on the bed, leaning across it to light the candles on Spencer’s bedside table. Spencer turned back to the cabinet, pretending to be looking for something else while he took a number of deep breaths and tried to compose himself. It was still all right. A bed was just a piece of furniture like any other, after all. No reason for Spencer’s heart to beat as hard and fast as it was because of a stupid square of feathers.

Once he’d managed to convince himself of this somewhat, he pasted a smile on his face and walked over to the other side of the bed, sitting down opposite Brendon and pouring both of them a generous portion of the rum.

“So, what did you wish to discuss?”

Brendon accepted his glass with a nod of thanks and took a sip before answering. “I really like Summerlin,” he said. “Every day I’m here, it grows on me. It’s such a beautiful estate, and I feel like people are starting to warm up to me. Greta is always really nice, and Zack showed me around the stables the other day, and one of the stable boys told me about the different horses and showed me where the tack was, should I care to take one of them out for a ride. And I felt... happy. Like I was settling in. And I want to. I want to become a part of this.”

A warm feeling mixed with the fear in Spencer’s stomach, warring with the guilt that was already there and trying to overcome it. Brendon was settling in. First thing in the morning, Spencer needed to find that particular stable boy that had made Brendon feel welcome and give him a bonus for his good work. “I’m glad it pleases you,” he said, feeling the warmth in his stomach increase as Brendon offered him a smile.

“It does,” Brendon said. “It pleases me very much. And I understand that our marriage is a new situation for you as well, that you’ve managed the estate alone for a long time and probably aren’t used to sharing that burden. But I’m your husband now, and I want to help.” He moved his glass to his right hand, reaching out with his left and placing it carefully over Spencer’s. “Please, Spencer, let me be of assistance to you in this.”

Spencer opened his mouth to tell him the truth, that Summerlin was safe and sound and that what Spencer mostly did during his days in his office was reading inventor’s magazines and counting down the minutes until dinner time.

What came out was, “You already are.”

Brendon gave him a bewildered look. “How?”

“Your funds were transferred into my accounts three days ago,” Spencer found himself saying. “I’ve spent the last couple of days looking over the situation, and we’ll make it through to harvest for sure. And the crops are sound this year. We were able to plant early, and as long as the summer doesn’t bring too heavy droughts, we should be fine.”

This was all technically true, at least. Brendon’s funds had come in and made a comfortable addition to Spencer’s. And the crops did look good from what Zack had shown him. Spencer made himself smile reassuringly and resolutely pushed down the voice inside him demanding that he stop being a coward and tell Brendon the whole truth.

“As easy as that?” Brendon said wonderingly, face breaking out into a happy grin. “And here I’ve been worrying myself sick, thinking what I had would surely never be enough.” He shook his head at himself and then looked back up at Spencer. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For doubting you,” Brendon said. “I should have known you’d be on top of things. Everything at Summerlin speaks of it, and the servants all clearly hold you in high esteem. I’m not even that good with numbers myself. I mean, I have the education, naturally, but there’s always been someone else at home taking care of those kinds of things for me. One of the disadvantages of being the youngest, I assume.”

“I could teach you if you want,” Spencer said impulsively, regretting the words as soon as they’d left his mouth. “I mean, perhaps not the books right away,” he quickly amended. “They’re... a bit of a mess at the moment, I’m afraid. But I’d be happy to take you around the estate, show you a bit how everything works?”

Brendon lit up even more, and Spencer felt deeply guilty. Brendon becoming more involved in the running of the estate could only mean bad things for Spencer’s secret. And still. He looked at Brendon’s hopeful expression and couldn’t quite remember why that would be a bad thing.

They drank their rum in companionable silence for a while, until Brendon put down his glass with a big yawn, stretching his arms above his head and leaning back against the many pillows. “I’m so tired.”

Spencer was too. Well, most of him, anyway. “It’s probably late.”

“Would you mind if I-? It’s just, my bed seems really far away,” Brendon said, looking up at Spencer with an expression Spencer couldn’t quite decipher.

Spencer swallowed. His heart was suddenly beating at twice its normal speed and his skin seemed hyper aware of exactly how many inches there were between their bodies. The past week of seeing Brendon every day, talking to him at dinner and sharing smiles over morning tea hadn’t exactly helped the increasing attraction Spencer felt.

He met Brendon’s eyes and felt himself miss a breath. Brendon was looking back at him with dark eyes, pushing himself up on one elbow. He reached out and touched a hand to Spencer’s face, smiling shakily as he let it continue in a caress down the side of Spencer’s neck. He looked nervous, Spencer thought-more than nervous, if the uneven way he breathed was any indication-but he also looked sure, leaning in closer with an expression of absolute trust on his face that made Spencer feel nearly sick with guilt. Brendon closed his eyes.

God, Spencer couldn’t do this.

He slid off the bed carefully, keeping his eyes firmly on the floor. “I just remembered something I should have done before tomorrow,” he said, picking the first excuse that entered his mind. “I’m not all that tired, so I’ll just go take care of it now. Feel free to stay.”

He left as quickly as he could, trying not to look too much like a man fleeing his own bedroom and probably failing miserably, and deflecting Brendon’s surprised attempt to call after him with a “Goodnight” and a smile. He hid away in his office for an hour, then ventured outside, hoping a stroll in the dark grounds might clear his head a little. When exhaustion finally forced him back to his room, it was almost dawn, and Brendon was gone from his bed.