The house was the finest many of the guests had ever seen. The ceilings of the 
ballroom were painted in the leafed gold, some rooms in imperial blue, others a
passionate red. The marble of the floors and stairs were fresh, and the drapes 
were all French and Italian in import. The house was tasteful, yet at the same 
time not the garish over furnishing that spoke of poor breeding or new money. 

The grounds of the house were vast and well kept, the grass lush and green, 
evident even in the dull light of the setting sun. The guests came in droves to 
the entrance. It seemed as though everyone of title had been invited, though 
absolutely no one knew their host. 

All of the guests were quite a flutter as to who their host could be. Through 
various gossip circles, they learned he was the son of a wealthy lord who had 
dies in a fire recently, and that Lord Trevelyan Lee had not been seen in nearly
twenty or so years. Everyone whispered as they entered the house or explored the
grounds. 

“What sort of man is he?”

“What has he been doing for the last twenty years?” 

“Have you ever seen him before?” 

It was wondrous how swiftly gossip spread around the wealthy. Sean need never 
have worried as to how he would properly adjust into their world, for already 
they were creating instances where they had met him in Turkey, or shared tea in 
Istanbul. Everyone who had had the pleasure of a chance meeting with the illusive
Lord Trevelyan Lee regretted to say that the encounter was so brief and fleeting
that they feared he would have no recollection of them. 

Viggo could not believe how many people actually cared about this Lord Trevelyan
Lee…the man had not deemed it necessary to show his face in over twenty years, 
why should anyone care now? 

What really angered him was that it seemed this man was all anyone could talk 
about. Every conversation he went to since he arrived at this gala affair had 
been centered on the blasted man. 

“I don’t know what they find so bloody intriguing,” Viggo hissed to Orlando, 
whose arm he held clenched in his. He lead Orlando around like a little dog, 
showing him off to those he met as though he expected a medal for it. Orlando was
a very good sport about it all, smiling when he had to and playing the role of 
the submissive dutiful prize. He had found that when he played Viggo’s game, he 
got rewards, and it meant that Viggo would tire of him sooner and pass him off to
Colin to mind. 

Orlando sighed to himself in relief when he thought of how his Irish valet was 
waiting for the moment to take his arm for Viggo, to guide the blind young man 
about while his husband mingled as he pleased without the burden of his sightless
spouse. Colin would take him away from this party, help him find a dark hollow to
hide in and wait for the night to be over. 
“Orlando, darling, how are you this evening?” 

Orlando’s head shot up at the sound of Ian’s voice and a smile spread across his
full lips. He felt a soft hand take his as the old man gently took his hand and 
raised it to his lips to kiss it in greeting. “You look wonderful, healthier than
I have seen you in months.” 

“It’s all the damned fresh air,” Viggo said dryly. “He spends all his days 
outside of in the woods. I barely see my darling anymore,” Viggo shook Orlando
slightly in a half embrace that was meant to look endearing but merely served to
disorientate the young man. “I always do wonder what you find so very 
fascinating…as you can’t even see the trees around you.” 

Orlando could almost hear Ian’s intake of breath at the cruelly casual comment, 
but Orlando did not expect much else from the man. 

“I enjoy the solitude,” Orlando said. “And the fresh air. The house stifles me.” 

He could feel his husband’s grip on his waist tighten at the comment to let him 
know he was going too far in what Viggo liked to call his little “games.” Orlando
merely offered a little smile in Ian’s direction. 

“Orlando, cherub, have you seen any sign of the illusive Lord Trevelyan Lee? To 
think, I knew Christopher for so many years and only saw his son when he was a 
young child…” 

Orlando could hear the sadness in the old man’s voice as he spoke of his friend.
He knew how hard it had been for Ian to overcome his best friend and partner’s 
death, and Orlando wished that there was some way he could comfort him. He only 
worried that his presence upset Ian further, knowing how bad the old man felt 
about him marrying Viggo after Sean died. Orlando sometimes sensed the man blamed
himself for Viggo succeeding in marrying him…as though there had been something 
the kind man could have done to stop it. There was no way Ian could have taken on
the extra staff, and there was no way Orlando would have abandoned his friends. 

Viggo groaned. “Let’s not have talk of him, Ian, I have heard nothing but 
incessant gossip of this man and I am tired of it, let us talk of other things.” 

Ian quirked a brow at the blonde Lord and tilted his head inquisitively. “Are you
not at all curious as to the identity of your host, Lord Mortensen?” 

At this, Viggo rolled his eyes in distaste. “I came for a party, not to gossip 
all night, especially over someone as undeserving as this man…someone who has 
chosen to not show their face in twenty years to his friends or family…” 

“Who then would you offer in his stead as subject of conversation…dear?” 
Orlando’s quiet and seemingly innocent question was neither as he cut off his 
husband’s tirade. He could hear Ian chuckle faintly, even over the murmur of the
crowd around them. 

Viggo did not bother to answer Orlando, instead looking around for any signs of a
servant offering drinks. “This house is large, though the inside is not as 
impressive as one would think it would be,” Viggo said casually. “He really has 
no eye for finery.” 

“I don’t know,” I an said, looking around the entry hall where they stood. “The 
architecture is good, the paint and paper are of good quality…and obviously newly
furnished. I would say our host has fine taste.” 

“The air is fresh here,” Orlando said, breathing in the cool air and feeling a 
breeze that indicated an open door or window. “Not at all stifling.” He looked 
again towards Ian and said, “Our house can be so airless at times.” 

“Well, darling,” Viggo said coldly, “You could always ask to have your windows 
opened for you, I hired that Mr. Farrell to attend to your needs and that could 
be one of them if you would but treat him as the servant he is and actually give
commands.” 

“I have no need to command Colin,” Orlando said casually. “He knows what I need 
and gives it to me.” 

Ian froze at the many implications that comment gave off, but it seemed Viggo was
too lost in his own thoughts to have heard. He was looking around and trying to 
see who all had arrived, and though he had indeed heard what Orlando had said he
did not put the comment together as Ian had. 

“Well,” Viggo said, “I see no point in standing idly here. Why don’t we continue
our rounds, Orlando darling.” 

“Ian, wont you join us?” Orlando asked sweetly, extending his hand in the man’s 
direction. “I have missed you, and would greatly enjoy your company.” 

“And I yours,” Ian said, taking the offered hand and letting Orlando clutch a few
of his fingers so he could follow as Viggo let them into the crowd. Viggo kept an
arm tightly about Orlando’s waist, making sure no one missed that he was the man
lucky to have claimed such a magnificent beauty. 

As they went, Ian whispered to Orlando what the others at the ball were wearing.
He told Orlando of Lady Pitt’s luxurious red ball gown with the ruby trim of the
neckline and matching ruby choker necklace. He told Orlando of Lady Jolie’s 
brilliant midnight blue gown decorated at the neck and hems with peacock 
feathers. Her dark hair piled atop her head and adorned with more of the 
beautiful feathers. He told Orlando of the dress of the men as well, who looked 
overly done and who looked cheap. He told him that Lord Bale, though his face was
cold and emotionless, looked positively edible in his kohl grey suit and silver 
waistcoat. 

Orlando smiled as he listened to Ian, picturing the scene in his head and letting
the voices create a sort of image in his mind. He could tell the room had a tall
ceiling from the echoes of the voices. He could tell that it was large from the
fresh air and distant sound of ladies shoes on marble floors. He could smell the
burning candles and expensive perfume. 

Viggo tugged him forward towards his friends and greeted Lord Bale and Lord Pitt
II.

“Christian, Brad, you do remember my spouse Orlando?” 

“How could we forget such a lovely face,” Brad said, kissing Orlando’s hand 
before passing it off to Christian. Orlando froze slightly in the man’s cold 
grip, as he had never felt easy around him. There was something about his 
presence, he was so very still and quiet…sometimes Orlando would be in that same
room as he and not realize it until either the man spoke to him or Viggo entered
as well and greeted him. Orlando could feel the man’s dark eyes on him when he 
was near, and it greatly unsettled him. 

“You look lovely, Orlando,” Christian said, his voice as cool and unaffected as 
ever yet his words heavy. “I must say that that shade of red looks stunning on 
you…” 

Orlando shivered as the man’s cold fingers ran along the edge of the collar of 
his red crimson jacket, brushing purposefully against the skin of his throat. It
took everything in him not to tear away from the man’s caress. 

As he had helped Orlando dress, Colin had described what he was putting him in. 
The young beauty wore a trim black shirt, the collar left undone in a manner 
which on most would seem sloppy and low class but on Orlando seemed natural. He 
then wore close fitting red velvet trousers and a matching red velvet jacket with
no waistcoat. His curls were brushed to gleaming glory and allowed to frame his 
angelic face as they would. He had said nothing when Colin had told him he looked
beautiful, and he doubted Colin had expected him to. 

“Orlando, Christian gave you a compliment…don’t be rude.” 

“Thank you,” Orlando finally said, hoping it would be enough and that he would 
not be spoken to again. Viggo’s friends usually preferred to look at him than to
include him in any of their conversations, a fact that Orlando relished beyond 
belief. He much preferred to be in the background and out of their attentions as
much as possible. 

“So Viggo, old chap,” Brad asked, his hands in his pockets as he looked at his 
blonde friend. “Have you seen this Lee yet? I’ve been here nearly an hour or so 
and seen nor heard any sign of him.” 

“I swear,” Viggo said darkly, rubbing his forehead. “The next person to mention 
him can find himself another conversation.” 

“What’s wrong Viggo…” Brad teased. “Sorry to see your shiny moment in the 
spotlight fading to another rising star?” 

Viggo snorted. “Your humor amazes me,” Viggo said. “I have money, prestige and a
scandalous marriage to a boy prettier than any of your cow wives…my popularity is
assured, his will be fleeting. So why not cute all the excess and just proceed to
the moment where he is average and normal like all the others.” 

“But this man has mystery to him,” Brad insisted. “No one has seen him in twenty
years or at all, he holds this ball in his own honor and then does not even
attend…he is a strange man indeed. Not only that, but I have heard he is one of 
the most wealthy men in the world. He had oil companies in the East, diamond 
mines in Africa, something in almost every country with more money coming in than
he can count.” 

The corner of Viggo’s eye twitched at this news. He had definitely not heard this
bit in the pieces of gossip he had overheard thus far. The blonde Lord tightened
his arm about Orlando’s waist and he pulled him closer, running his free hand 
down Orlando’s face and asking him in a sickly sweet voice, “Have you heard 
anything of his darling?” 

Orlando shook his head. “I…I heard he was wealthy…but he is Lord Lee’s son after
all, and with his inheritance…” Orlando froze when he realized he had spoken of 
the one thing he was not supposed to. Viggo was still quite sore over the loss of
his money, and Orlando prayed that neither of his husband’s friends caught what 
he had said. 

“Well, never mind that,” Viggo quickly said. Their group followed another crowd 
into the ballroom where a young man was setting up to sing, a small ensemble 
preparing their instruments behind him. 

Sean breathed deeply, looking at himself one last time in the mirror, meeting 
Marton’s eyes in the reflective glass. He looked at his newly grown facial hair 
that covered his chin and upper lip, yet was shaved at his cheeks and sides of 
his face. His hair was longer than it had ever been, not quite reaching his 
shoulders but at least his chin. He wore it slicked back with special hair
treatment to dye it, making it look brown instead of blonde. He treated his 
closely cropped facial hair with the same color so it all matched. His brows were
naturally dark, so he did nothing with them. 

He had filled out a bit more, his chest broader than it had been and his arms 
bulkier from the exercise he had done and the extra weight he had put on. The 
result was a solid, intimidating form. Dom had told him that the hair on his face
made him appear at least ten years older, when tinted with the dye. 

Sean straightened his posture and smoothed the lush velvet of his jacket to make
sure it looked perfect. The long coat fell to the floor and dragged ever so
slightly when he walked. He looked to Marton for confidence, and the Russian laid
a heavy hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently to let the Brit know he was not 
alone. 

“Tonight is the night,” Marton said. “You’ve been waiting for this a long time.” 

Sean nodded. “And now that it’s here, I fear the worst. He’ll be here, Marton…how
will I manage to see him and not take him into my arms? How will I stay distant 
from him? The moment he looks at me with those big brown eyes…I’ll…” 

“You’ll go by the plan,” Marton said. “You’ll have to if you ever want to win 
Orlando back. You must pretend you do not know him, and make him think he does 
not know you…for now.” 

Sean nodded. “You’re right…I’ve waited this long…I’ll be with him soon.” 

Marton nodded. 

Sean sighed and glanced one last time in the mirror. “I suppose I should go greet
my guests,” he said, waiting for Marton to follow him and then allowing the 
Russian to take the lead. Sean followed him to the elaborate double staircase. 

Everyone in the front hall looked up when Marton called out in his booming voice,
“My Lords and Ladies!” The Russian had practiced softening his accent over the 
past few months with the aid of Sean and Dom, but his origins were still obvious.
“It is my great pleasure to introduce my lord and master to you, his lordship 
Alec Trevelyan Lee.” 

Marton swooped his arm in a great gesture to make way for ‘Alec’ to step forward. 
There was applause from below as he stepped down, and a great murmur swept 
through the crowd as he descended. He gave a small half smile to those below him,
exuding confidence and power as he went to greet the masses. Hands appeared from
all over to introduce the person attached to it. 

“Pleasure to meet you sir!” 

“Lovely party.” 

“The house is divine sir, you have exquisite taste.” 

“So good to finally meet you Lee…I have heard nothing but your name for the past
two months.” 

Sean greeted those he met with a cool calm about him, appearing neither eager nor
unappreciative. He was the perfect host, traveling through the crowds as though 
he had done it all his life, chatting up then moving on, patting some on the back
or shoulder as though he knew them. 

The hailed Lord Trevelyan Lee made his way from the great hall into the Ballroom.
He could hear the young man he had hired to sing, Mr. McGregor, already into his
routine. The handsome Scot was crooning to the crowd before him in his clear 
voice, the song a rather melancholy piece for the night. 

-“Why does my heart cry
Feelings I can't fight
You're free to leave me, just don't deceive me
And please believe me when I say I love you” -

Sean scanned the crowd of the room, seeing people mostly whisper of him and point
to him in excitement. He nodded in acknowledgment to most, but was at that moment
on a mission. 

From across the room, Sean attention was caught when he was a golden hand push 
ebony curls from an angelic face. 

Sean’s heart froze. 

It was him. 

It was Orlando. 

- “His eyes, upon your face…” - 

Sean’s eyes narrowed as he saw Viggo Mortensen II himself standing beside his 
beloved, his arm wrapped around Orlando’s arm to keep him next to him. Sean 
wanted to break that arm for daring to touch his dearest love… 

- “His hand, upon your hand…” - 

Viggo was laughing with a group of men, and he gripped Orlando’s arm to pull him
back to the conversation when Orlando appeared to be wandering in his mind. Sean
wished he could see his lovely dark eyes…but those long sooty lashed obscured 
them. Sean began a firm stride towards them, Mr. McGregor’s voice still filling 
his ears as he went. 

- “His lips, caress your skin…” - 

Sean’s blood boiled when Mortensen took Orlando’s chin and pulled him sweet lips
into a kiss. The former grounds man could feel his own lip curling into a sneer
of hatred at the sight of his beloved freezing in the large man’s hands. 

- “It’s more than I can stand…” - 

The crowd was so thick, Sean’s way was hindered by the many bodies and the many 
hands reaching out to him…trying to greet him…holding him back. There was only so
much more Sean could take…only so many more polite smiles he could offer before 
he damned his plans to hell and ran forward to rip Orlando from the bastard’s 
arms and kill the man on spot. 

McGregor’s voice was drowned out by Sean’s thundering heart as he crossed the
room. He could see Orlando raise a hand to his brow…saw him rub his temple as 
though he had a pain…a pain that Sean would gladly kiss away normally. 

At the moment he thought his heart would burst, be broke through the crowd and 
made his way before Mortensen and his friends. 

“At last, I’ve found you,” Sean said, forcing himself to smile as he reached out
a hand to Mortensen, steeling himself to not shudder when the puzzled man 
accepted his greeting. 

“Lord Trevelyan Lee,” Sean said. “And you are Lord Mortensen…my solicitor sent a
photo…” 

Sean looked towards Orlando, cursing himself when his breath caught at the sight
of his gentle beauty for the first time in over a year. His curls were long…they
framed his face now in full ringlets that made him look even more the cherub. No…
he was no longer a cherub…he had blossomed into an angel. 

“And this must be your lovely husband I keep hearing of,” Sean said, smiling at 
Orlando and waiting for those dark eyes to raise to his, but they denied him, 
though Orlando froze at the sound of Sean’s deepened and smoothened voice. 

There were slight chuckles from around them and Sean tore his eyes from Orlando 
to look at the man that dared to laugh. He must have looked quite fierce, for the
blonde man held up his hands in mock surrender. 

“Forgive me, I meant no offense to you, sir.” The man said. “It is only that 
beauteous Orlando is never really referred to as Viggo’s husband.” 

Sean cocked a brow at the blonde Lord. “Are you not married? Is he not a man?” 

Viggo laughed at the man’s questions. “Have you taken a good look at my beauty’s
face? He is far too fair to be given the masculine title in our union…it is quite
obvious to most which of us is the husband.” 

Viggo’s stormy eyes showed absolutely no sign of recognition as he looked Sean in
the eye and spoke to him. It made a triumphant smirk spread across Sean’s lips in
a manner he knew would come across as amused to others. 

Sean held out his hand to Orlando in a formal gesture, his words warm and soft as
he spoke. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Orlando.” 

Orlando went rigid at the sound of his name, and he nodded slightly, not lifting
his eyes from the floor. Sean kept his hand out, waiting for the young man to 
overcome his shyness and accept his greeting. 

“Show him, Vig,” the blonde man said, a little smirk of amusement showing on his
face. 
Sean wondered what the hell was so funny…and why Orlando wouldn’t shake his hand. 
Viggo sighed and grabbed Orlando’s wrist, making him reach out until the young 
man’s fingers brushed Sean’s and his head shot up in realization, red spreading 
across his cheeks. 

“I’m…I’m sorry…” Orlando said softly, sliding his palm into the larger one and 
wrapping his long fingers about Sean’s hand and shook his hand slightly. Those 
large eyes lifting to his at long last. 

Sean’s heart stopped. 

Those dark eyes were faded and cloudy where they had once been bright and 
vibrant. It couldn’t be…it couldn’t possibly… 

“Forgive me…” Orlando almost whimpered. “I could not see your hand…please, just 
take mine from now on, or I will leave you unsatisfied I fear.” A little smile 
came to the young man’s lips, and his face colored again when he got no response,
fearing he had offended the man. 

“No…the fault is mine…I did not know…” Sean said, his voice empty, still not 
believing it. 

Viggo quirked a brow. “You did not know my darling was blind? I thought that by
now that was common knowledge, you know how the papers love to spread the 
business of the well-to-do.” 

Sean realized he was still holding Orlando’s warm hand in his, and he raised his
other hand to where they were joined, resting his atop Orlando’s and cradling it
gently. “I did not mean to embarrass you…please accept my humblest apologies.” 

Orlando gasped slightly at the comment, as it was the first anyone besides Ian or
Colin had been courteous to him without acting as though they were courting him. 

“It is no fault of yours, Lee, I assure you…Orlando does not really make much of
an effort to notify those around him of his condition…” 

Sean began to see red at the sound of Viggo’s voice. 

“One cannot expect him to carry a sign about his throat proclaiming his 
blindness.” Sean all but spat. He realized his tone and quickly relaxed, turning
to Viggo instead and raising to his full height. “It is the job of others around
him to watch out for him, so he does not have to feel so out of sorts.” 

Viggo’s eyes narrowed and his lips pursed out. “Indeed,” he said curtly. “Well, 
this is indeed a lavish party you are having, sir. How long have you been in this
house?” 

“Not very long” Sean said, amused at the abrupt change in conversation. “I came 
back as soon as I heard of my father’s death, but it took so long for the notice
to find me in Greece.” 

“Greece?” the blonde man said, impressed. “And how long were you there?” 

Sean tilted his head and held out his hand. “Forgive my rudeness, I am Lord 
Trevelyan Lee, and you are?” 

“Lord William Bradley Pitt,” Brad said, accepting Sean’s offered hand and shaking
it. “This is a fine estate that you have, sir. Quite beautiful grounds…my mother
particularly loved the rose gardens.” 

“Why thank you,” Sean said. “I shall have to tell my gardener you said so. 
Pleased to meet you.” He then turned to the other man standing nearby. “And you 
are?” 

“Lord Christian Bale,” the dark haired man said, a cocky air to his voice. “I do
so enjoy a good party, nice to know we have yet another fellow appreciator in our
midst. None of the other country folk in this area seem to enjoy social 
gatherings.”

Sean forced himself to chuckle at the haughty comment, looking back to Orlando. 
He did not look at all well at the moment, and looked as though he were about to
faint. “Are you doing well, Orlando? You look a little fatigued…do you need 
anything to drink?” 

Orlando lifted his head towards the voice, his blind eyes searching again when he
heard his name. His pretty cheeks were quite pale and his chest was beginning to
heave as his breathing quickened. His hands were clenched into fists at his 
sides. 

Viggo looked down at Orlando, his hand moving from the youth’s arm to his back 
where he drew him closer. “Are you feeling piqued, my darling?” 

Orlando nodded, raising a hand to his forehead and rubbing slightly. “I…I think I
need a little fresh air,” he said softly. “Please, Viggo…will you take me 
outside?” 

“But darling,” Viggo said, rubbing little circles into the beauty’s back. “I was
talking to my friends, and we were going to mingle with others. Shall I have
Farrell called to you, and he can take you outside? Either that or Ian should be
back in a moment and he can take you.” 

“No, Viggo, I have to go now…please…” Orlando said, lifting one trembling hand to
Viggo’s chest in an imploring manner. “Please,” he said softly. 

Sean almost growled at the callous way Viggo was treating Orlando. Without 
knowing what he was going, he reached out and tenderly took Orlando’s arm, gently
drawing the young man towards him. He looked up to see Mortensen’s questioning 
gaze fixed on him. 

“If you would rather stay and attend the festivities, then I shall take him.” he
looked to Orlando and spoke in a soft voice, “would you allow me to take you 
outside? There is a balcony that would allow you a little privacy and distance 
from the noise and chaos of the crowd.” 

“There you go, my love. It sounds just the respite you need.” 

Orlando shifted uncomfortably, head tilted to the ground to hide his face. “There
is no need for you to miss you own celebration, my lord…I shall find my valet
Colin and he can…” 

“Orlando,” Viggo said, somewhat harshly. “Do not argue with his lordship…he 
offered to take you and he would not have if it were trouble. Stop being 
difficult…it’s embarrassing.” 

Orlando sucked in a little breath. “Forgive me for embarrassing you, ‘my lord.’”
He let the comment be as biting as his husband would take it, and grudgingly 
offered his arm to Sean. Sean took it in his right and placed his left on 
Orlando’s back to guide him. 

Sean led Orlando through the crowded ballroom over to the stairs, carefully 
leading him up them and warning him when to step and when they were at a landing.
Orlando said nothing as he was led to the second level and then through a room to
one of the balconies. Sean could see the relief on his beloved’s beautiful face
when he felt the breeze against his skin as soon as the window was opened. 

Sean guided Orlando onto the balcony, setting the youth’s trembling hands onto 
the rail so he could support himself and know where he was. 

“Are you quite sure you do not need to sit?” Sean asked. “I have spare rooms if 
you would prefer to rest. You do look quite pale, if you would forgive me for 
saying so.” 

“I am quite fine, I assure you,” Orlando said, facing over the balcony. 

Sean’s green eyes roamed his beloved’s lovely face, wanting to twirl one of those
silken curls about his finger and forcing his hands about the rail so he did not
do just that. He did not stop looking at the beauty’s face though. Orlando looked
so terribly pale and unnerved…upset. Did Orlando recognize his voice? Did he 
know? 

“Orlando…I…” 

“How do you know my name?” Orlando asked softly. 

Sean was a little taken aback that he had masked his voice enough for Orlando to
not recognize it and a little relieved. He needed some more time before he was 
ready for anyone to realize who he really was. 

“Pardon?” he asked. 

“My name…we have never met before, yet you knew my name before we were 
introduced.” Orlando’s knuckles were white from where he gripped the railing.

“I saw your picture in the newspaper,” Sean said. “It was a picture from your 
wedding…I hope you do not mind me saying but you looked lovely.” 

Orlando said nothing t first, his brows furrowed in thought before his soft voice
could be heard again saying, “But I thought you only recently arrived here…and I
was married over a year ago…where did you see our picture in the paper?” 

Sean forced himself to chuckle in amusement at this, an he shifted his stance a 
little, leaning forward against the rail. “Well…I actually arrived a few months 
after my father died. I wanted to take care of the family affairs in a more quiet
and discreet manner, and you know how hard that is to do in our society. The 
gossip here is strong, and I did not want a fuss to be made over me.” 

This time it was Orlando that chuckled. “You are one of the few that don’t…” he 
said in a distant whispery voice. “This party is not very discreet.” 

“No,” Sean admitted. “I thought it was appropriate to come out of the shadows.” 

Orlando nodded but did not speak. He had not faced Sean at all while they had 
been talking, and Sean was beginning to wonder why. Orlando certainly did not 
look at ease where he stood…did not look at all like he wanted to be alone with 
him. 

“Do I make you uncomfortable, Orlando?” 

The youth shivered at the sound of his own name on the other man’s tongue. “No” 
he said, his voice barely a strangled whisper. He finally turned towards Sean 
with tears forming in his dull eyes. “You just…your voice…it…it sounds…” He 
swallowed and faced back towards the rail. “It sounds like someone very dear to 
me who is gone now…someone that I love very much.” 

“Oh?” Sean asked, leaning a little closer to the angelic beauty. “And who was 
this person?” 

“A man…a grounds man…a servant in the same house as me…with eyes like emeralds.”
A crystal tear escaped and rolled down Orlando’s downy cheek, dropping below his
chin before falling to the rail. “We were to be married…” 

“What happened to him?” Sean felt terrible to press Orlando, but he desperately 
wanted to know what Orlando thought had befallen him, more importantly what Viggo
told him had happened that night at the manor house. 

“He died,” Orlando managed to say, his voice broken. “Killed in a fire that 
burned the house we lived and worked in. I inhaled too much smoke an fainted…and
he carried me from the house. My ‘husband,’” Orlando said with word with much 
distaste, “he said he found me in the grass and carried me away before the house
crumbled. I think my love was trying to save our employer…” Orlando’s blind eyes
shot up in Sean’s direction. “Your father.” 

“You worked for my father?” Sean asked in what he hoped sounded like genuine 
surprise. 

“You were a servant as well?” 

Orlando nodded. “I was. I was his valet…though I was never very good at my job.
Your father was a kind man…it pains me that he died in such a horrid way…” 
Orlando bit his lower lip as a second tear fell to join the first. 

“What happened to you?” Sean asked, not realizing he slipped in refining his 
accent until Orlando froze before him. “What happened…after you were rescued?”
Sean asked, this time making sure he sounded like the nobleman Alec Trevelyan Lee
and not a man from Sheffield. 

Orlando shook his head as though reminding himself of something and grudgingly 
continued. “I was taken to a hospital where I was treated for several months.” 

“Were you hurt?” Sean asked, hoping he did not sound too concerned. He was 
supposed to be a man that had never met Orlando…did not worry about Orlando…was 
not in love with Orlando. 

Orlando shook his head. “Not in body, no. But the loss of my dearest love proved
a near fatal wound.” 

Sean felt his heart ache for Orlando, knowing how he must have felt for he 
himself had gone through the same ordeal. He had to know what specifically 
happened with Mortensen though, and he wanted Orlando to be brutally honest, so 
he dug deep. 

“Well, at least your new dearest love Mortensen seems to have mostly revived 
you.” 

Orlando’s blank eyes shot over to him, his brows furrowed in anger. “I never said
he was my dearest love…My heart burned with the body of my true love. My husband
does what he likes, but our arrangement has nothing to do with love!” 

Sean was quite taken aback at the emotional outburst and he reached forward, 
taking Orlando’s shoulders gently in his hands and turning the boy to him, 
knowing that his love may not be able to see him but forcing him to face him all
the same. “Calm down, Orlando…forgive me, I was most out of place.” 

Orlando nodded but said nothing. He allowed his arms to be held by the man that 
sounded so much like his lost beloved. It unnerved him how similar the two were,
yet it also deep down saddened him. He wished it could comfort him, but it 
couldn’t. He felt when he was near Christopher’s son that he was betraying Sean…
that he had betrayed him for wedding Viggo. He regretted his decision when he was
near this man whose very presence reminded him of Sean. 

Orlando’s breathing was still quite harsh but he was beginning to compose 
himself. He was relieved when Lord Trevelyan Lee released his arms, and he turned
back to the comfort of the rail. A sudden thought came to him and Orlando turned
back to Lee with furrowed brows. 

“Does it not trouble you sir, that I do not love my own husband?” he asked. 

Sean shook his head but remembered Orlando’s sight loss and voiced his thoughts
instead. “I understand how there are times marriage is viewed as more of…a treaty
of sorts. Sometimes one must do something they would not for the sake of others…” 

Orlando froze at the words, once again clutching the rail before whispering, “You
do speak the truth.” 

Sean bit his lip to keep from speaking but could not contain himself. 

“I am sure,” Sean said, his voice careful as he continued. “I am quite certain
that your love would not blame you for your decision…that he would know that your
intentions were pure…and he would never doubt that your heart was steady in it’s
love and still holds him above all else.” 

Orlando kept his face turned away to hide his tears, not knowing that the man
beside him had the same drops falling down his chiseled cheeks, only by the grace
of a higher power able to keep his breathing regular. 

“How can you speak of me with such certainty?” Orlando asked, his voice full of 
pain. “You do not know me and yet you defend my virtue as though you were my 
husband…or more than that, for my own never defends me. Where does this surety 
come from?” 

“I don’t know,” Sean said, remembering to culture his voice to be Lord Trevelyan
Lee. “I suppose…you remind me of someone as well…someone I too loved and still 
love very much.” 

“Then we are both lost lovers” Orlando said, a sad smile turning the corner of 
his lush lips. 

“That we must be” Sean the grounds man said, his voice almost too soft to hear. 

Orlando’s face softened as his blind eyes searched where he heard the Lord’s 
voce coming from, he took a step closer to the man and raised a hand as though he
were searching for his face. Sean realized that Orlando was trying to touch him…
trying to feel his face and feel his expression, his features, everything Sean 
did not want him to feel at that time.

Sean grabbed the slender wrist gently but firmly, holding it still and saying 
nothing. He lowered the hands to Orlando’s side and pushed it against him, 
indicating the boy should not try again.

“Who are you?” Orlando asked softly in question.

“You know who I am,” Alec Trevelyan Lee responded, his voice as cultured and 
rounded as a respectable gentleman’s should be. 

Orlando shook his head and raised his hand again to the man’s face, “No, I 
don’t.”

Again Sean grabbed his wrist and held it a safe distance from his face and the 
tell tale tears that were drying on his cheeks. “You know all that you need to,”
he insisted, releasing Orlando’s wrist and discreetly wiping the traces of tears
from his face without making a sound. 

Orlando stepped forward, raising his hands one last time while giving Sean a soft
look of entreaty. “Please…” he begged. “Let me feel your face, let me see you…I 
want to see you my lord.”

Sean took Orlando’s wrists firmly in both hands and held him away, keeping their
bodies apart for fear Orlando would feel his racing heart. “I do not like to be 
touched,” Sean said firmly. 

Orlando’s arms dropped of their own volition and he wrapped his arms about 
himself. “Of course, my lord. Forgive my childish behavior.”

Sean softened immediately. He reached forward and lifted a hand to Orlando’s 
face, his palm hovering over that downy cheek he had not stroked in over a year.
Orlando inhaled sharply as he felt the presence of the warm palm near his face,
and waited for the touch he knew was coming. When he realized that Lord Trevelyan
was not going to touch him, he leaned his cheek into the touch, nuzzling the palm
with his cheek and letting his eyes drift closed.

Sean nearly gasped when Orlando raised one hand to cup the back of his own, 
making him hold his palm closer to his beloved’s cheek. 

“Who are you Lord Trevelyan Lee?” Orlando asked. “I swore when my Sean died that
I would never love again, and since I have given my heart to no one…how is it 
that you make me want to love again.”

“Orlando…” Sean opened his mouth to speak when the door behind them opened and 
Mortensen’s voice sounded, “Orlando?”

Orlando’s head shot over and his face fell. “I’m here,” he called through nearly
clenched teeth.

Mortensen appeared with a cocky grin upon his face. He pulled Orlando into his
arms in a way that made the boy stumble and Sean almost reached forward to right
him. 

“Have you been here this whole time, my darling?” Mortensen asked in that sugary
sweet voice he used with Orlando. “You must be boring his lordship to tears.” He
looked over at Sean with questioning eyes, as though he were searching for some 
sign in his eyes that told him he had been touching his spouse. What an 
untrusting bastard…

“I assure you, Mortensen,” Sean said. “Orlando is anything but boring. He is an 
intelligent, pleasant young man, and I quite enjoy his company as opposed to the
false pleasantries of some others.” Sean smiled broadly, a little twitch of
triumph showed at the slight glower that showed on Mortensen’s face.

Sean turned to Orlando and took his love’s hand in his own and squeezed it,
raising it to his lips and kissing the back. “It was a pleasure to meet you, 
Orlando. I do so hop that you will come visit me so that we may continue our 
conversations again.” He held onto Orlando’s hand for a moment too long before 
letting go.

He then turned to Viggo and nodded to him in farewell. “It was good to meet you,
Mortensen. You are welcome in my home as well if you ever care to drop in for a 
visit. Now if you excuse me, I must go and attend my other guests.” He looked to
Orlando and softened his tone so that the boy knew he was addressing him. “If you
need to step out again, I would be happy to keep you company. If you need 
anything at all, please do let a member of my staff know. Good day.”

“Good day,” Orlando said dreamily, his hand still held in the air as he listened
to Lord Trevelyan Lee leave the balcony. 

His husband’s grunt tore him from his daze and he shook his head. “What’s wrong,
Viggo?” he asked, trying to keep an edge from his voice.

“I don’t like him,” Viggo said.

Orlando furrowed his brows. “How can you not like him, he is a kind and generous
man. He has been more gracious to me than any of your friends ever have been.”

“I’ll bet he was,” Viggo said with a sneer. “I’ll bet he can’t wait for you to
come visit him so he can take advantage of you and show you what a man he really
is.”

“Do not say such things!” Orlando gasped. “Not when he may still hear you and not
when you are so very out of line! His lordship’s character shows no sign that he
would do such a thing. I feel very safe around him.”

Viggo took Orlando’s arm and whipped him around so that he faced him. “I do not 
like this attitude you are taking, Orlando. I do not like it one bit…” Viggo 
leaned in and grabbed Orlando’s jaw, forcing him to hold his head still so he 
could clearly see his beautiful spouse’s face an reactions. 

“What were you doing this whole time, Orlando? You were gone for quite a while…
and I did not like how close you both were when I came in…did you lie with him? 
Did he bring you up here and use you?” Viggo was beginning to get angry and his 
fingers dug into Orlando’s upper arms. “Did you let him use you?”

“Viggo…let go of me…you’re hurting me…” Orlando said, struggling. “No, he didn’t
use me…please Viggo…stop this!” Orlando cried out in fear when he felt his back 
press against the railing. “You think I am that wanton that I spread my legs to
any man that tries to take me?”

Viggo’s eyes narrowed in distaste as he watched Orlando’s face. Those dull eyes 
wide in confusion and anger. He could tell his pretty felt insulted, and he 
wanted to believe him. He wanted to believe that he had full control over his 
spouse and that Orlando would never dare do anything behind his back…yet there 
was this nagging feeling he had. He knew it was because Orlando did not love him,
and he just could not believe that someone as beautiful as Orlando would only lay
with one person, especially when he did not love them. 

Mortensen ran his thumb over Orlando’s full lush lips. “Did you give him leave to
these then, my darling? Did he kiss these luscious…beautiful lips?”

Orlando jerked his chin out of his husband’s grip. “Stop this nonsense…you have
no right to say these things to me. You are cruel to me Viggo, and I do nothing 
to you to earn your hatred.” He pulled on his arms to try and wrench them free. 
“Now let me go…I will not be with you when you are in this foul mood.” Orlando 
finally tore his arms free of Viggo’s fold and turned, following the rail with 
one hand and trying to find the door with the other.

Orlando froze at Viggo’s cold laugh.

“You look so pathetic, Orlando,” Viggo said with a smirk, making no move to help
his spouse. “Wandering around like that…”

Orlando did not turn back from his search and continued on. “Less pathetic than 
waiting around for you to hold my hand and actually help me out of compassion, 
you egotistical bastard.”

Viggo’s nostrils flared. “Fine,” he said angrily. “If you so enjoy your 
independence, I leave you to it then. You can find me in the ballroom when you 
feel as though you have had your fill.”

With that, Viggo left Orlando alone on the balcony, the young beauty only able to
find the door to the inner room from his husband’s retreating footsteps. 

Orlando found the doorway and stepped into the room. He held out his hand as he 
searched for anything that would obstruct his way. A chair though escaped his 
questing fingers and instead hit his knee, making Orlando stumble forward. In his
search for something to right himself, his stumbled over a foot stool and fell to
the floor, his knee one of the first things to land.

The young man cried out in pain and gritted his teeth as he tried to fight back 
tears. He slammed his fist onto the floor as he bit back the pain that flowed 
through him, as well as the pain in his knee. 

Orlando let his head fall forward and rest on the floor as the tears fell freely.
He could not get Lord Trevelyan Lee out of his head, he could not stop hearing 
his voice or feeling his touch. 

Why was he doing this? Why was he feeling so much for this man he just met. He 
never wanted to love again after Sean, so why was this man after one conversation
refusing to leave his mind? He had the same effect on him as Sean…his voice 
calmed him like Sean’s, but he was not Sean, and Orlando could not love him.

But he wanted to.

God help him, Orlando wanted to feel love again. 

Through his quiet sobs, Orlando did not hear footsteps muffled by the carpet as 
they approached him, but he jerked to consciousness when he felt hands on his 
arms, lifting him from the floor.

Orlando twisted in the strong hold as he struggled against his captor, but the 
hands were gentle and a soothed accented voice eased him.

“You are Orlando, no?”

Orlando nodded, his blind eyes dancing about trying to think of who this was that
held him. 

“I am Marton…my master told me to come look for you, he said he did not see you 
and was worried you were not well. Why do you cry?”

“I…I…” Orlando felt so disoriented that he just shook his head to clear it before
starting to cry again. “I seem to have fallen…I hurt my knee…I’m alright, thank
you.”

The man clucked his tongue in understanding. “You are hurt?”

Orlando shook his head, giggling slightly in his confusion and shaking his head,
cursing his eyes and the disorientation they brought. “Just a bump. Forgive me, I
am being rather silly.”

Marton shook his head and wrapped an arm around Orlando’s slim waist, making to 
pick him up and carry him, but the youth stopped him.

“I can walk, I assure you…there is no need,” His voice shook as much as his body
and Marton quieted him with a hand to his chest. 

“No argument,” he said. “I will take you down the back stair. You have a 
manservant, no? I shall fetch him and get some ice.”

Orlando gave up and resigned to the Russian’s will, legging himself go limp in 
the man’s hold and nodding his head, secretly grateful for the man’s help in his
exhaustion.

“Thank you,” he whispered as Marton lifted him into his strong arms and made his
way to the back staircase.