The Aristocrat

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “Sometimes the things that scare me the most are the things I really want.”

He swallowed. “You know what I think, Felicity?”

“What?”

“I think we shouldn’t worry about it so much. Boundaries, no boundaries. I think we need to let life happen and see how it goes.” He reached out his hand. “You with me?”

I took it and smiled, enjoying the warmth of his skin a little too much.

He looked out at the water again. “I’m not gonna promise I won’t hurt you. I think we’ve already established that’s a given. We’re both going to end up hurt. But I promise to make every moment with you matter up until that time.”

I needed to trust him. “Okay.”

“There’s something else I need to say,” he added.

I nodded.

“I know we previously compared what we’re doing together this summer to a losing game. But I want to make something clear. As long as I’m here, as long as we’re together, this is a relationship, not a game, to me. And even if it has to end, it’s no less valuable than if it lasted forever. We have a tendency in life to judge the value of a relationship by how long it lasts. But some of the worst ones are the longest-lasting. A connection between two people is no less valuable if cut short by circumstances.” His eyes glowed in the moonlight. “You already mean so much to me.”

Emotions bubbled up inside me; I’d really needed to hear that.

“I’m so glad you came over tonight,” he said.

“Me too.”

He looked toward the house. “After they eat, I’m certain he’s going to take the Marias upstairs. Maybe it will be safe to go inside then. We can have the living room to ourselves.”

I shrugged. “Either way. I don’t care if they’re there as long as we get to hang out.”

“Hanging out with you is becoming one of my favorite things,” he said.

His admission made me feel guilty. Something I’d done last night before bed started to weigh on me. “I have a confession, Leo, and I don’t know if you’re gonna like it.”

His body went rigid. “All right.”

“Remember how you said you Googled me once?”

“Yeah?” He gulped.

“Well, I did the same to you. It started because I wanted to learn about the peerage system and the world you come from without having to ask you a million questions. That unfortunately led to other internet searching.”

His expression fell. “Find anything interesting?”

“Lots, actually,” I said.

“I’m sure.” He scrubbed his hand over his face, looking frustrated. “It sucks that getting to know me has to involve history lessons and research.”

Shit. “You’re upset at me.”

“No. No, of course not. I’m surprised it took you so long, to be honest. It’s just...all of that is not a representation of who I am. Not the history, of course. But the gossip part. It’s lies, mostly. Some paparazzo snapping a photo of me and some girl they think is my future wife, when in fact, we’d probably just met. Or saying I’m buying cocaine when it was weed, which I rarely smoke, but of course they’ll make me out to be a massive drug addict. Basically, it’s rubbish ninety-nine percent of the time. So it’s useless.”

“I understand that.”

“Do you?” He searched my eyes.

“Yes. I do.”

“Well, then, you’re smart. Many people aren’t. They just believe what they read. You’ll never get to know me through some high-society gossip rag.”

I hated that I’d upset him. More than that, I hated that I’d disappointed him.

“Your mother is very beautiful,” I added.

“That she is. Thank you.”

“I can see a lot of her face in yours.”

“Are you saying you think I’m beautiful, then?” He winked. “So, what other things did you dig up?”

I was afraid to ask the next question, but he seemed open to further inquisition.

“Do you have a brother?”

His expression darkened. “Where did you read that?”

“There was this website that listed the family trees of a bunch of landowning, aristocratic families. You know how it is with internet searching—it leads you down one rabbit hole to the next. Anyway, it listed both Leo and Thomas as the children of your parents, Leo and Scarlet. You had said you were an only child, so I was curious.”

He nodded slowly and looked down at his thumbs as he twiddled them. “Thomas is my brother, yes,” he finally said.

“I didn’t know you had—”

“He died in childbirth.”

My heart clenched. “Oh no. Gosh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he whispered.

“Was he older or younger?”

“Neither. He was my twin.”

My chest felt heavier by the moment.

“There were some complications. Apparently, something can happen where one twin essentially donates blood to the other. It’s called twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome. And the recipient can suffer complications. It doesn’t always end badly, but it did in our case. They tried surgery to save him, but he was stillborn. My parents had made the mistake of announcing they were having twins ahead of time, so they couldn’t mourn in private. The press was all over it—the burial and everything.”