#ydom

Roman winced as he gingerly applied the powder to his face. It didn’t completely erase the injury’s appearance, but if he added some blush to the other cheek and styled his hair so it hung lower than usual, obscuring the bruise from the side...it was almost enough.

It would have to do for now.

Taking a deep breath, Roman exited his room and quickly made his way through the halls. He’d told Patton that he didn’t feel well this morning (which was not entirely untrue), and so he wasn’t expecting anyone to wonder where he was. After a few turns, he found himself standing before a door that he had never actually gone through before: the door to Logan’s office.

The office’s large door glistened with fresh wood polish and gave a pleasant, welcoming smell, though the scent actually only succeeded in making Roman’s nerves worse. He knew Logan would be on the other side, working on managing this set of numbers or that pile of letters even this early in the morning. Lightly touching the bruise across his cheek he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It had to be Logan- no one else. He trusted Patton with everything he had, but there was no telling how the loyal attendant would react. He knew Patton cared about him, but as kind and caring as he was, he was hardly a good actor. And Virgil was far from a snitch, but he was so wary of any sign of trouble that Roman didn’t want to burden him with this...at least not yet.

He had to be sure...he had to know he had even half a chance before letting the others in, and to have that chance, he needed Logan.

If Roman listened closely, he could hear him on the other side of the door, muttering softly to himself as he ran through whatever calculations he was scratching out with his favorite pen. Paper rustled every now and then and Roman could tell by the coolness of the hardwood floor just in front of the door that the window must be open. He stood a moment more, letting his mind’s eye follow the thought, picturing Logan’s long hair blowing softly across his shoulders as he sat hunched over his desk, glasses sitting just so on the bridge of his nose that Roman could probably reach forward and straighten them if he was quick enough.

Shaking the thought out of his head, he took a breath and knocked quickly, then without waiting for an answer, pushed the door open before he could lose his nerve.

Logan glanced up from his work, frowning slightly as Roman entered. His eyes widened when he saw Roman, and he stood so quickly that his chair screeched across the floor. Wincing at the sound, he smiled apologetically and gestured for Roman to take the seat in front of him.

“Roman, to what do I owe the pleasure this late in the evening?”

“I-” Roman’s throat ran dry, and his thoughts along with it. Logan was looking at him, worry etched across his brow and work forgotten, and Roman swallowed. “I need your help.”

“Certainly,” Logan said immediately. “How can I assist you?”

Sitting across from Logan now, Roman almost changed his mind. It seemed absurd to think that Logan would agree to what he had in mind...what if he had misjudged him? What if he had misinterpreted the withering looks Logan shot the earl when he thought no one was looking, what if he had placed too much faith in their budding friendship, and if Roman so much as breathed a word of his plan, Logan would be the first to warn Lord Howard?

“Roman? Are you alright?”

Logan’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, and Roman looked up. Logan was sitting patiently, nothing but concern and quiet understanding marking his features, and Roman suddenly didn’t know why he should be worried at all. He could trust this man- he was sure of it.

“I need your help taking control away from Lord Howard.”

Logan binked once, then twice, fiddling with a pen that lay in front of his hands before setting it down firmly and leaning forward. No sound came from his mouth when he opened it at first, snapping it shut to blink a third time, slow and deliberate while he gathered his thoughts. “I’m sorry?”

“I- I need your help, please Logan.” Roman leaned forward as the other man straightened back up, his attention fully caught. “The earl has his fingers in far too many pies...and I’m not even sure he remembers what all the flavors are. If last week's meeting was anything to go by he disregards anything that doesn’t directly benefit him and only him and I’m sure land isn’t the only thing he’s notoriously stubborn with. Look at the way he treats his staff, expecting them up day and night to serve him and his entertainment of the day, extending that to you and all the responsibilities he shoves to the side in his confidence that you’ll pick up the slack. I haven’t even been here for very long but I know you hardly sleep for all the work you do in his stead. He expects everyone around him to be the perfect picture of their roles to mask the fact that he cannot play his own and I cannot continue this betrothal and eventual marriage in a state of constant anxiety and silence. He isn’t...he isn’t a good man Logan.”

Pursing his lips, Logan held up a hand. “Roman, I still don’t know that I understand what you want me-”

“He isn’t a good man, Logan,” Roman interrupted. “You must see that.”

“Yes, but Roman, he- I don’t know what you’re asking of me. He has more power than he knows what to do with, true, and he certainly abuses it, but I’m not certain what you expect me to be able to do about taking it away. I manage his finances and remind him of meetings; I hardly have the reach to do anything substantial.”

“For people like him, money is his power, and you’re the one that takes care of that. How many times does he actually ask you about anything official? Does he ever want full accounts of where anything goes? You sign documents for him of all things because he believes himself too important and you’re going to sit there and say you have no weight to throw?”

“But I-”

Seeing the doubt, Roman was quick to lean forward. “What if we could control the estate? Actually control it, and make smart decisions for it and know what’s going in and out of it? Surely you of all people would jump at the opportunity to make the changes you know need to be made here.”

“Roman.” Logan fixed him with a stern look, and Roman snapped his mouth shut. “It’s a nice thought in theory. I’ve spent many nights worrying over things that truly should not be my responsibility, and have done enough research to present to the earl a myriad of solutions to his problems, should he ever decide he actually wants to listen to my counsel. But for us to be in control of the estate, the earl would have to be deceased.”

Roman stared at him blankly.

Logan’s eyes widened. “Roman that is not-”

Taking a deep breath, Roman brought up a hand to wipe at his face, the flesh colored powder smearing his sleeve to reveal the dark purple and red underneath. This time it was Logan that snapped his mouth shut, with an audible click. Horror, anger and worry flashed across his face, and Roman winced.

“It’s going to get worse. I know it and so do you. This is how it starts, especially once he has someone who officially belongs to him, and especially when that someone doesn’t just lie down and take it. I won’t. And so it will keep getting worse, and he will never be accountable until one of us finally has an accident. I am not going to let that one of us be me.”

Logan regarded him sadly, sighing as he lowered his gaze. “What you’re suggesting is extremely risky. Even if we could do something after you marry him, the fact of the matter is that this is the Howard family’s estate. And I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that the earl isn’t exactly...interested in making you an official member of the family in any capacity. If he were to pass away, the estate wouldn’t be bequeathed to you. You’d still have no control, and might honestly end up with less if his other family members decide not to tolerate your presence.”

“That’s where you come in.” Roman smirked, and Logan’s head snapped up. “I need your help to forge the will.”

--- --- ---

“Well that’s-”

“Excuse me, what?”

Roman fidgeted with his sleeve as Logan attempted to sooth Patton and Virgil long enough to allow them to explain. After getting Logan to agree to help him, Roman had immediately requested that they bring Patton and Virgil into the scheme. Roman was certain he could trust them, and Logan seemed to agree. They certainly wouldn’t be able to pull their plan off with only two of them. Getting Patton and Virgil to see the necessity in it, though...well that was the first hurdle they were trying to clear.

“It seems like a drastic measure to take, even with the lord’s uh...mood as of late.” Patton squirmed on the haystack he was curled up on, pointedly ignoring the baffled expression Virgil threw him.

“A drastic measure? You think? This is treason, Patton! We’ll be hanged!” Virgil turned to glare at the two men across from him. “We will be hanged. There has to be a better way.’

“We will have the will forged and officiated before the wedding, and then arrange it to look like his death was natural. As long as we can figure out a way to do that it’s a fairly simple process.” Logan held his hands in front of him in a pleading gesture. “Even if we can’t find a way to make it look natural, I assure you Lord Howard has enough enemies grabbing at his various businesses and properties that it’d be anyone’s guess who tried killing him off. Half of them would end up paying investigators off just to avoid any public suspicion, it is almost guaranteed that no one would expect Roman to be the culprit.”

Virgil stared at him. “You’ve thought this through. Logan, why have you thought this through?”

Patton reached over and grabbed Virgil’s hand, rubbing soothing motions against his knuckles while humming softly. Virgil’s shoulders remained tense but he leaned against the attendant's shoulder, taking a shuddering breath as he raised his eyes to the ceiling.

“I think...” Patton said slowly. “I think that maybe while we have this opportunity we should take it. Not that I take any pride in using you Roman!” He was quick to assure. “But- I’ve seen the way he gets...and how he is getting. People like that only worsen with age, and I’d rather not see any of us hurt...more.”

Roman touched his cheek self-consciously, trying to subtly cover up the spot where he had wiped the make-up off, but of course fooling no one. Patton glanced away but Virgil’s gaze only hardened, squeezing the other man’s hand and swearing under his breath.

“I guess....I guess all of us here- everyone at the estate really- would benefit from him not being in charge. It’s still incredibly risky.” Here Virgil glared daggers at Logan and Roman specifically. “But I think with the right people...the right poison maybe, it could work.”

“Do you have a suggestion?” Logan asked curiously.

“Not me, but I know people that might. What are we thinking the time table will be for this?”

Roman perked up as they all looked at him. “Well...it might be a good idea to carry it out a good while after the wedding. If it happens immediately after, it would look a lot more suspicious than if we waited.”

Logan frowned.  “But Roman-”

“Logan, you know I’m right.” Roman startled a bit at the sheer amount of concern he saw in Logan’s eyes, but gave him a small smile as reassurance. “I’ll be fine until then.”

“Well,” Both of their heads snapped around to face Virgil again, neither acknowledging the slight pink in their cheeks. “If we’re waiting that long that’s plenty of time for me to get in contact with my guys and figure something out. Really it shouldn’t be too hard.”

Patton made a small noise in the back of his throat. “Um, exactly what kind of guys, Virgil?”

Virgil laughed outright. “Oh, total degenerates for sure! But they’re also both idiots, and that didn’t change when they set up their apothecary, so I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”

“So it’s set then? We’re doing this?” Roman couldn’t help the hopeful edge to his tone, and he immediately felt a stab of guilt.

What would his friends think of him now, so eager to take such a drastic measure? But a quick glance at their faces revealed only sympathy and determination, and he forced himself to breathe. There was a reason he’d come to these three specifically, and now he had to trust that he’d made the right call.

“Yes.” Logan said, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze, and Roman felt himself relax. “We are.”

Barely a month had passed since Roman’s twentieth birthday when he was called into his father’s study. He knew that whatever the reason for his summons, it must be important, as his father hated more than anything to be interrupted in his work. Roman knocked twice on the familiar, thick oak doors, and held his breath until he heard his father’s muffled answer from within. 

“Come in.” 

Roman stepped inside, and was surprised to see his mother and older brother already in the room, seated opposite his father’s old mahogany desk. As he entered, his father stood, gesturing to an empty chair that sat beside his mother. 

“Have a seat, son.” 

Roman sat. 

“I have good news,” his father continued. “As you have now reached the proper age, one of my primary interests has been to find an appropriate arrangement for your marriage.” 

Roman’s heartbeat quickened, and he forced himself to remain calm, folding his hands in his lap. This was it. This was the moment that he’d been preparing for nearly all of his life; the moment that would shape his entire future. 

“There were many factors to consider,” his father said, stepping around the desk to stand beside his wife. “It was not an easy decision. However, your mother and I have entered an agreement that we believe will be very profitable, for you and for the family.” 

Roman nodded. His father was a shrewd negotiator; he was sure that, whatever the terms of the engagement were, the Sanders family would not lose more than what it stood to gain. 

“So, you’ve reached a decision then, Father?” he asked, taking a deep breath and willing his expression to remain neutral.

“I have,” his father agreed. “You are to be wed to the Earl of Asberg, Lord Garret Howard. I have just received a message from his footman: they arrived at the Fireside Inn late this afternoon. Tomorrow, they will come to the manor to bring you to Lord Howard’s estate to begin the engagement period.” 

Roman bit back a gasp, his eyes growing wide. 

“Lord Howard?” he repeated. “I was not even aware the earl was looking for a suitor.” 

“For many years, he was not,” Roman’s mother spoke up. “His youth was spent primarily securing the political and financial status of his late father’s estate. Only recently has he turned his attention to more social matters.” 

“Your dowry aside, the connections we will gain through this marriage will be of an immense benefit to us,” said Roman’s father. “I know you know your duty son; I trust you will make us proud.” 

“I will, Father,” Roman said, getting to his feet. His father held out a hand, and Roman shook it firmly, doing his best to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. “Thank you.” 

His mother and brother stood as well, and Roman let his mother pull him into a quick hug and plant a kiss on his cheek. 

“Congratulations dear,” she said as she pulled away, a proud smile on her face. “I know you’ll do just wonderfully.” 

“Thank you, Mother,” he said, squeezing her hand, and then his brother was in front of him. 

“Congrats, Ro,” he said quietly. 

“Thanks, Remy,” Roman whispered, and when they shook hands, Roman hoped Remy didn’t notice the slight tremble in his grip. 

“The carriage will arrive at eight o’clock tomorrow morning,” Roman’s father declared. “I’ve already instructed the maids to pack your clothing. Whatever other preparations you need, I suggest you make them now.” 

“I will. Thank you, Father,” Roman said again, bowing his head slightly to his family.

He left the study, walking through the halls of the manor as though walking through a dream. He reached his quarters, and it was only after he shut the door behind him that he realized he very well might never walk the path from the study to his room again. He sat on the edge of his bed, his formal posture falling from his shoulders like a forgotten shawl now that he was alone. 

True to his father’s words, a trunk lay open at the foot of his bed, his shirts and trousers and suits all carefully folded and placed inside by the maid. Another, smaller trunk had been placed beside it, no doubt for Roman to fill with whatever else he wished to bring with him to his fiance’s estate. 

His fiance…

Sun, moon, and stars, he was engaged. It wasn’t as though he didn’t know it was coming; he was the youngest of his parents’ three children, after all. As the oldest son, Remington would inherit the title Baron of Falkirk and all the duties that came with it, while Roman and Remus would be married into other families to increase the Sanders’ political influence. So Roman had always known that he was destined to leave the family manor. 

That didn’t necessarily mean he was ready to. 

He sighed, sweeping his eyes around his room. What would he even take with him? A single evening was hardly enough time for him to consider all that he owned and decide what to bring on a permanent move halfway across the country. Should he bring his books, his star charts, his journals and quills? Or would he be able to find suitable replacements for them all at Lord Howard’s estate? Would he even have time to indulge in his hobbies as the husband of an earl? If only he’d had more than a day’s notice of his departure, then he’d have time to think!

A light knock on the door pulled Roman from his thoughts, and he straightened instantly. 

“Who is it?” he called. 

“It’s me, Roman,” came the answer, and Roman relaxed at the sound of his brother’s voice. 

“Come on in, Rem.” 

Remy stepped into the room, closing the door behind him and giving Roman what was probably meant to be a smile, but came out more like a grimace. 

“So, it’s finally time,” he said, and Roman rolled his eyes. 

“No need to sound like I’m on my deathbed, Remy. It’s just an engagement, we all knew this was coming.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Remy sighed, plopping down on the bed next to Roman and leaning back against the headboard. “Still...I had sort of hoped you’d end up somewhere decently close by. Gremont, for instance, I know Lady Lishan has a daughter who’s eligible. Or maybe Ravenhold. Then you could at least visit. Asberg is…” 

“Far,” Roman agreed. 

He’d been trying not to think about it. Asberg was at least four days away by carriage, maybe longer depending on the weather, and Roman had never been so far away from home unaccompanied in his life. 

“Hey though, the wedding’s only six months away. I’ll get to see you then! And who knows, maybe I’ll be able to come visit for the harvest festival next year...or you could come visit me!” 

“Only if you serve coffee,” Remy joked, and Roman laughed, the tension in the room easing just a bit. 

“Help me pack?” Roman asked. “I can’t figure out if I should bring everything or nothing.”

“Hmm…” Remy sat up and scanned the room. “My advice? Bring only what you think you can’t live without.”

Roman hesitated, then looked up at his brother. 

“You?” he suggested. He tried to shoot Remy a playful smirk, but he could feel the corners of his mouth wobbling, and he knew from the sad smile on his brother’s face that Remy didn’t buy it. 

“I wish, Ro-bro,” Remy said, nudging their shoulders together. “But I think one son running away from home is enough of a scandal for Father to deal with.”

“That’s fair, I suppose,” Roman said, looking down and fiddling with his fingers in his lap. “What...what do you think Remus would say? If he were here to see me off?”

“Honestly?” Remy looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then snorted. “He wouldn’t say anything, he’d just lock you in the bedroom and throw away the key to make you stay. Or kidnap you and hide you somewhere so that the wedding had to be cancelled altogether.” 

“You’re probably right,” Roman said. He chuckled, but the laugh felt hollow, like a piece of it was missing...gone forever and irreplaceable, just like his brother. “Did...did I ever tell you that he came to see me, the night he left?” he asked quietly. 

“No,” Remy answered. “But I had a feeling that he did.” 

“He asked me to go with him,” Roman said. “To leave you and Mother and Father and everything we’d ever known, to go chasing ‘freedom’ and ‘adventure,’ like we were children again.” He shook his head, closing his fingers into fists. “I told him I couldn’t.”

“I think he knew that,” Remy said. “But I...I also think he felt he had to at least ask you for himself. I don’t think he’d really believe that you wanted to stay unless he heard you say it.” 

“And I did want to stay,” Roman insisted. “I begged him to stay. But he wouldn’t listen, and he left, and now it’s been three years and I have to leave you and Mother and Father and everything I’ve ever known anyway, except now I’ll be alone.” Roman looked up at Remy, his eyes shining with un-shed tears. “What if...what if I made the wrong choice?” 

Remy pulled him closer, hooking his chin over Roman’s head like he did when they were small and Roman would trip in the garden and scrape his knee. 

“I can’t answer that for you, Ro-bro,” he murmured. “That’s something you have to figure out. But for what it’s worth...I’m glad you stayed. It- it would have been even harder, I think, to lose both of you.” 

“You’re losing me now,” Roman whispered, but Remy shook his head. 

“No,” he said vehemently. “I’m not. You said it yourself, Roman, the wedding’s only in six months. And Asberg may be far, but it’s not like it's across the ocean or anything. We’ll still be able to see each other once in a while. Remus…” Remy sighed, and tightened his grip around Roman’s shoulders. “Remus left us for himself. You’re leaving us for the family. That’s the difference.” 

“Yeah...I know,” Roman said, sniffling a little and nestling deeper into his brother’s hold. “I’m still gonna miss you though.” 

“I’ll miss you too, Ro-bro,” Remy said, dropping a kiss into Roman’s hair. “I’ll miss you too.”

Remy eventually left Roman to pack, and the rest of the night passed in a blur. Roman finally decided what to bring with him (his used notebooks and journals, his collection of star charts, and an old cloak that the maid hadn’t packed because it was torn, but that Roman couldn’t bear to part with) and what to leave behind (unused sketchbooks, his set of inks and quills, and the ancient paint set that he hadn’t touched in almost a year), but when he lay down to try and get some rest, sleep evaded him. He tossed and turned for what felt like hours, unable to stop his thoughts from racing. Morning arrived far too soon for his liking, and before he’d really processed what was happening, he was standing at the bottom of the front steps of the manor with his family, waiting for the carriage to arrive. 

"Now Roman, remember," his father said, and Roman looked up at him. "Lord Howard oversees an estate far larger than our own. Whatever duties you are expected to perform, they will be on a scale far greater than what you are accustomed to here."

"He may look to you to aid him in business, but he may also expect you to oversee more of the social obligations. He has dealings with many different families, after all," Roman's mother added, and Roman nodded.

"Politics is never just about numbers," he recited, and his father's lips twitched in a small smile.

"That's right, son. Remember all that we've taught you, and you'll do fine."

A carriage pulled in at the end of the manor's drive, and Roman took a deep breath.

"Remember to write!" his mother said, pressing a kiss to his cheek and giving his shoulder a squeeze. 

Roman placed a hand over hers, then shot Remy a lopsided smile.

"Any last words for me, Rem?"

Remy smirked, and ruffled Roman's hair.

"If you let Earlship go to your head, I’ll cut you out of the estate when I take over."

"Honestly, Remington," their mother said, rolling her eyes, and Remy winked at Roman.

The carriage reached them then, and Roman quickly moved to fix his hair. A footman hopped down from a seat on the rear, and bowed to Roman's father.

"Good morning," he said as he straightened. "I come on behalf of my Lord Garret Howard, Earl of Asberg, to deliver a dowry payment to Lord Phillip Sanders, Baron of Falkirk, and to collect his lordship's fiance, Lord Roman Sanders."

"Thank you, sir," said Roman's father, nodding to the footman. "Our family is honored by this union. May I present my son, Roman."

Roman inclined his head to the servant, who bowed again, quick and low.

"A pleasure, my lord. Allow me to gather your things."

Roman's luggage was loaded onto the back of the carriage, and Roman tried not to think about the large trunk that was unloaded and left at his father's feet. He hadn't been told the amount of his dowry, and he didn't want to know. For some reason, it made him feel strange to think about money being given to his family in return for his hand; it made it seem more like he'd been bought, when that wasn't the case! 

“Well,” he said when everything was ready to go. “I guess this is it.” 

“Safe journey, son,” his father said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Make us proud.”

Roman swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. He gave his family as strong a smile as he could muster, then he stepped into the carriage and the footman closed the door behind him. Roman drew the curtains back from the window and peered behind them as the carriage pulled away from his home. Remy and his mother were both waving, and even his father raised his hand briefly in farewell. Roman watched them grow smaller and smaller, and then the carriage turned out of the grounds and he couldn’t see them anymore. The manor that had been his entire world for the past twenty years shrank into the distance, until it was nothing but a speck on the horizon. 

Roman finally turned around so he was facing the direction the carriage was traveling. His father’s words echoed in his mind, and he took a deep breath. 

Don’t worry, father, he thought. I’ll make you proud. I’ll make our whole family proud.

 “Very well, I will be ready shortly,” Roman said, then he frowned as Patton turned to leave. “Patton, wait…”

Patton paused, looking back at him. Roman hesitated for a moment, but the housekeeper had said anything he needed...

“Could I...that is, do you know what happened to my clothes? The ones I brought with me, I mean?” 

Patton’s face twisted in sympathy. 

“Oh, um...well, I...” he looked away, and guilt flickered through his eyes. “Mrs. Wakefield, she...she told me to burn them.” Roman’s eyes widened, but Patton quickly continued, “I didn’t, though! I snuck them into the laundry when she wasn’t looking...I was planning on taking them down to a charity shop in town when I could get an afternoon free. It...it didn’t feel right, to have perfectly good clothes like that thrown out when someone could still use them.” 

Roman sucked in a breath. “There’s one thing,” he said quietly, leaning closer. “A cloak, torn at the hem, is it...do you think I could get it back?” 

Patton glanced behind him, as if Mrs. Wakefield herself might suddenly materialize in the room. 

“I...if Lord Howard sees you wearing it, I-“

“I won’t wear it,” Roman promised. “And the rest of the clothes, you can go ahead and give away. I don’t want any trouble, I just...I don’t want to lose it for good.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Patton said, and Roman smiled.

“Thank you, Patton, I’m truly grateful. Now...I must admit, I don’t quite know my way around the estate yet. Would you be able to show me to the stables?” 

Patton perked up at that, his face splitting into a wide grin. 

“I’d be absolutely delighted to!” 

Patton stepped out for a moment to let Roman get dressed, and then he led him through the halls of the manor. Roman did his best to memorize the layout as they went; the estate technically was his home now, and he wanted to know it like the back of his hand. Patton led him outside through a set of double doors set with frosted glass and onto a meticulously kept gravel path. As they walked, they passed by an immaculate flower garden and what looked like the entrance to a hedge maze before reaching what Roman assumed were the stables. 

Lord Howard was already there waiting for them, dressed in smart white riding pants and a tailored vest. Two men stood beside him, each holding the reins of a horse.

“Ah, good morning Lord Sanders,” the Earl called, and Roman bowed his head in greeting. “Come, let me introduce you to my stablemaster.” 

The shorter of the two men beside him bowed. 

“Joseph Acton,” he said. “I am at your service, my lord. And this is Angel, and her handler, Virgil.” He gestured at the taller man, who held the reins of a snow-white mare. 

Roman nodded to both stable hands, then reached out to pat Angel’s nose. 

“She’s lovely,” he said, smiling at Virgil. 

“She’s yours,” said Lord Howard, and Roman’s eyes widened. 

“I- really?” 

“Indeed,“ said the Earl. “I trust you can ride?” 

“Yes, I can,” Roman said. “I- you are too generous my lord, thank you.”

Lord Howard gave him a short bow, clearly preening at the expression of gratitude, and Roman smiled to himself as he took Angel’s reins. This may not be quite the marriage of equals he had always hoped for, but it didn’t mean he was unprepared for his situation. 

A man like Garret Howard had wealth and power to spare, and everything he did would be in service of either acquiring more or showing off what he had. If Roman wanted to improve his standing with him, he first had to stroke the man’s ego. So as they rode through the grounds, he oo’d and ah’d at the impressive landscaping and architecture, when asked how he was finding his stay at the estate so far he gushed about the size of his rooms and the quality of service from the staff, and at every opportunity, he brought the conversation back to Lord Howard, allowing the Earl to not-so-subtly boast about the size of his estate and investments. 

When they circled back around to the stables, Lord Howard swiftly dismounted his horse, and gave Roman a nod. 

“Thank you for your time this morning, Lord Sanders. You of course have free reign of the estate. I have much business to attend to today and cannot be disturbed, but I do hope you will join me for dinner this evening?” 

“Of course, my lord,” Roman said with a smile. “It would be my pleasure.”

Lord Howard snapped his fingers and Acton hurried forward to take his horse’s reins. 

“Until this evening, then,” said the Earl, and then he turned and left without another word. 

Acton gave Roman a quick bow before leading Howard’s horse away, and Roman glanced around. He didn’t see the other stableboy anywhere nearby, so he steered Angel towards the stables himself. As he drew nearer, he finally spotted the tall, dark haired boy who had first handed him Angel’s reins leaning against a fence post and talking to Patton, of all people.

“Virgil! Get to work!” snapped Acton, and Patton jumped, guilt flashing across his features. The stablehand, Virgil, rolled his eyes, but stepped forward towards Roman, ducking his head and holding out his hands for the reins.

“Apologies, my lord,” he said lowly, and Roman flashed him a reassuring smile.

“It’s quite alright, sir,” he said as he dismounted. He glanced up to make sure Acton wasn’t listening, then added quietly, “and you may just call me Roman, if you wish.” 

Virgil’s eyebrows quirked up in surprise, and he glanced over at Patton, who smiled and nodded at him. 

“Alright then, Roman,” Virgil said. “How was Angel for you?”

“Oh, she was excellent. Weren’t you, girl?” Roman asked, patting Angel on the neck. “You deserve a whole barrel of apples for doing such a good job!” 

“I do have some sugar cubes saved back at the stable, if you’d like to give her some,” Virgil said slowly, almost warily. 

“I’d love to,” Roman said honestly, and Patton’s face lit up. 

Virgil nodded to himself, as if coming to a decision, then he turned around, tugging gently on Angel’s reins.

“Come on then, her stall is this way.” 

Roman and Patton followed Virgil into the stables, which housed around a half-dozen horses. Virgil led them through to Angel’s stall, then gave them all sugar cubes and baby carrots that they took turns feeding to the mare while he removed her bridle and brushed her down. 

Roman held out another handful of treats to Angel and glanced at Patton. Patton was stroking Angel’s nose, but the soft smile on his face was clearly directed more at her handler rather than the horse itself.

“So...you two know each other well?” Roman asked. Virgil looked hesitant, but Patton nodded, a sheepish smile on his face. 

“When I started working here, I didn’t know anybody...and, um. I’m sure you’ve noticed that the senior staff can be...”

“Assholes?” Virgil grumbled, and Patton laughed nervously. 

“That’s, um, a strong word for it.” 

“Not necessarily inaccurate though,” Roman said, and Virgil blinked, clearly surprised. 

‘Well, suffice it to say, I had a little trouble fitting in at first!” Patton interjected. “But Virgil was actually nice to me, helped me find my feet, and we’ve been friends ever since!” 

Roman raised an eyebrow; based on the way that they looked at each other, he’d have guessed they were more than just friends...still, he wasn’t about to pry.  

“Pat, it was great to see you, but I don’t want you to get in trouble,” Virgil said. “You should get back, before Wakefield gets wind of where you’ve been.” 

“He should be fine, as long as he’s with me, right?” Roman asked quickly. “Since he’s my attendant, if I ask him to accompany me somewhere, that would supersede any other duties he has.” 

“I mean, yeah, probably,” Virgil said. “Still, you don’t know how Wakefield can be...I don’t wanna risk you getting in trouble.” 

“And I don’t want to risk either of you getting in trouble, so we’ll make sure we keep our visits on the short side,” Roman said. 

“Our...visits?” Patton asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Well, as my attendant, it’s essentially your job now to accompany me around the estate, right?” Roman asked. “It just so happens that I love horses, and taking walks around the grounds, so Mrs. Wakefield can hardly blame you if you end up spending more time than you used to outside the mansion.”

“Oh!” Patton said, his eyes widening. “Oh, Roman, you don’t have to do that if you don’t want to…”

“I do, though,” Roman said honestly. “It’s no trouble. And Angel is a sweet girl who deserves all the extra sugarcubes in the world, aren’t you?” he added, patting the horse on her neck. 

“Alright, if you’re sure,” Virgil said. “But you two should still probably get inside now, I don’t need Acton on my case again.” 

“Okay,” Patton said, quickly pulling Virgil into a hug. “I’ll see you later!”

Virgil looked embarrassed, but he hugged Patton back and waved to him and Roman as they exited the stables. 

“What else would you like to do today?” Patton asked Roman as they headed back inside. “Lord Howard takes dinner at seven thirty, so you have quite a bit of free time until then.” 

“Hmm...well perhaps you could give me a tour of the mansion?” Roman asked. “I believe there are several wings I haven’t even seen yet.” 

“Absolutely!” Patton said. “Follow me!” 

Roman was happy to do just that, and the two of them spent nearly an hour wandering through the house, Patton pointing out various features as they went. Roman’s head spun at the sheer size of the place; it was nearly unbelievable that just one man could own so much. At midday, Patton left him to arrange for lunch, and Roman found himself wandering the corridors alone. He decided to try and find the library again and turned around, only to collide headfirst with someone hurrying down the hall.  

“Oh goodness, I’m so sorry!” he exclaimed as the person went sprawling, papers flying everywhere. “Here, let me help.”

Roman got to his knees to help gather the papers up, pausing when he saw just who he’d bumped into. 

“Oh...it’s Logan, right? Again, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention at all to where I was going!”

“It’s quite alright,” Logan said, getting to his feet and pushing his glasses up on his nose. “For once, I was not heading anywhere in a particular hurry, I merely intended to take my lunch in the library.” 

“Oh, I was heading that way too!” Roman said. “Or at least, I was trying to find it. Is it alright if I walk with you?” 

Logan shrugged.

“You may do what you wish, Lord Sanders.” 

He resumed his walk down the corridor, and after a moment, Roman followed, glancing around to ensure none of the other servants were nearby before he leaned over and spoke quietly. 

“Roman.” 

“I beg your pardon?”

“You may just call me Roman, as long as we aren’t around somebody who might get upset with you for it.” 

“Is there a particular reason you prefer not to be called by your proper title?” Logan asked as they reached the library, and Roman shrugged. 

“Formality has its time and place,” he said.

He paused and opened the library door, gesturing for Logan to enter. After a moment, Logan did so, heading towards a small table beneath a window, and Roman followed. 

“However,” he continued, “I’ve found it more beneficial in the past to be on more personal terms with members of my staff. Everyone is free to be at their best when they aren’t spending half their energy worrying about decorum.” 

“Members of your staff?” Logan repeated as he sat down, and Roman nodded. 

“So unless you have your own objections, I really don’t mind if you call me Roman,” 

Logan regarded him for a moment, then tilted his head forward slightly. 

“Very well then, Roman.”

Roman grinned, and sat down opposite Logan.

“So, tell me about what you do! Lord Howard called you his business secretary, what duties does that entail?”

“You...want to hear about my work?” Logan asked, sounding puzzled. 

“Of course!” Roman said. “Lord Howard has been...busy, lately, and I haven’t had much time to learn about everything that goes on here at the estate yet. I was hoping you would be able to fill me in, if that’s alright of course?” 

“I...suppose there is no harm in that,” Logan said slowly. “Though I’m afraid you won’t find what I have to say very interesting. My job mostly entails keeping track of paperwork, creating and distributing documents, managing the taxes paid to the estate as well as balancing the earl’s personal finances-” 

“All that, and he calls you a secretary?” Roman interrupted. “That’s the work of a manager, if not a full business partner!” 

“Yes, well” Logan cleared his throat, and shuffled some of his papers around. “Lord Howard would likely benefit from having a manager or business partner...however, he prefers to handle all matters that fall under his responsibility personally.”

“Or have you handle them,” Roman finished, and Logan gave him a wry smile. 

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“Or have me handle them,” he agreed.

“So Lord Howard trusts you, then?” 

“I would not use the word trust, ” Logan mused. “Rather, he knows I am capable of my job, and expects me to perform it to his satisfaction. Much of the day to day of running the estate falls to me, leaving him free to speak directly with other nobles and officials. I give him a report at the end of each week, and we discuss what expectations are for the next week.” 

“Would I be able to get a copy of those reports?” Roman asked. 

Logan raised an eyebrow. 

“Technically those documents are for the Earl’s eyes only. What would you even do with a copy?”

“All my life, I’ve been preparing to run an estate,” Roman said. “And now I’m getting married in six months, but I’m not sure the Earl even realizes I exist half the time. I don’t want to just sit around and twiddle my thumbs and not even know what’s going on under my own roof. I want to actually do something.” 

Logan watched him for a long stretch of time, and Roman wondered if he’d made a mistake, confiding in the man. Would he refuse Roman’s request? Would he tell Lord Howard what Roman had asked for? What would the Earl do if he found out Roman had requested confidential reports without his permission? 

“In all honesty, the Earl pays very little attention to what I do,” Logan said, pulling Roman from his spiraling thoughts. “As long as the numbers match up to what he expects. I should have no problem creating a second copy of my weekly reports, if you truly wish to see them.” 

Roman grinned. 

He had a feeling he and Logan were going to get along just fine.