Chapter Nineteen
IT TURNED OUT that while society might look askance at a single young nobleman still unwed late into his twenties, society did not care two figs for if two single noblemen moved into a shared flat together on the upper side of the river.
Even his mother seemed pleased, and so Archie was not going to question it.
Charlie’s reaction was somewhat more predictable when he found out – furious, because he’d had to hear through the grapevine instead of from Archie himself, even though Archie protested that Charlie hadn’t been around enough for him to be told.
Then, insufferable that it was the Earl of Lymond who would share his residences.
He vacillated between wanting Archie to introduce them so that Charlie could boast of Lymond’s acquaintance, and insulting Lymond that even an earl couldn’t afford his own townhouse in the city.
Estelle, on the other had, mostly seemed delighted.
“Oh, finally! You have a friend!” She gushed, clasping Archie’s hand.
That was a bit insulting, he did have friends.
But he took her point. His friends weren’t the sort to spend weeks upon weeks summering with each other like hers.
The occasional opera visit and lunch at the gentlemen’s club would do them.
“It’s a very generous offer, but he said that having company would more than make up for it,” explained Archie.
Their pretense was that Damian was paying for the rooms by himself, but didn’t want to live alone and had invited Archie to keep him company.
That way, his parents wouldn’t wonder where he got the money to pitch in for half the rent given that their arrangement – and the associated stipend that came with it – with Prince Jasper was a secret.
“My son, friends with an earl,” said mother with a proud smile when he broke the news at dinner, as if they weren’t literally related to the royal family through Father’s side.
“You weren’t half as excited when Cousin Ixthan started inviting me to parties,” observed Archie.
“Ixthan,” sighed his mother. “It’s hardly his fault, but that one has no refinement. The Earl of Lymond, though! A true gentleman if I’ve ever met one. And so handsome and well-trimmed. You’d do well to take fashion advice from him.”
Archie had no idea what she was talking about – as far as he was aware, his mother had never interacted with Damian. He reached out with his mind.
Since gaining a full corporeal form, Damaris had no need to sit in the back of Archie’s head (thought he did still occasionally when he felt like it), so he had cultivated the magical link between them to remain open.
Currently, he was on his way to view a prospective apartment for them as Lymond, the furthest he’d gone since that disastrous experiment last month.
Archie felt his distance keenly, but it didn’t hurt.
As Damaris let him in, Archie caught a glimpse of the river reflecting the sharp winter sunshine and a disconcerting feel of wind cutting across his cheekbones.
Damaris hadn’t said as such, but Archie gathered that the novelty of having a body that fully interacted with the world had not yet worn off.
Archie wasn’t as good at reciprocating yet, so it took a moment before he felt the now-familiar sensation of Damaris sliding in, sorting through Archie’s memory as he replayed it in his mind.
Did you introduce yourself to my mother? She’s practically salivating over you, said Archie plaintively.
A light huff. No. She has only the lightest touch of the memory manipulation on her. I will withdraw it before she gives herself delusions.
You used magic on her?
Archie caught a pulse of something, not so much a thought with words but rather a feeling, that Damaris wished for Archie’s parents to approve of this new arrangement.
No more than the usual charmful demeanor I exude, was all he said.
Oh look, I have arrived. He slid back out of Archie’s mind before he had to explain anything else.
Archie hid a smile. “I am hoping it’s a favorable arrangement on all sides, mother.”
His father folded over his newspaper and looked over the top of it at Archie, his mustache twitching.
A sign that he was debating whether or not to say something, from Archie’s experience; Archie waited it out.
“This seems like an apt moment to let you know about a discussion your mother and I have had recently. We had, of course, hoped that you would find a good match similar to some of your other siblings.”
A momentary silence, where they all ignored Charlie’s situation. It was unspoken that his future title and inheritance would secure him a wife whenever he finally did decide he wanted one, with infuriating ease. A luxury that none of the other siblings had.
Archie’s father harrumphed. “As you may have surmised, Charles has… ideas on what kind of duke he will be that leave me uneasy. Your mother and I hope to be around for a few years yet, of course. But in case of any tragedy, we have prepared a sum for you in case he does not value the familial ties we tried to instill in all of you, to be paid out monthly in perpetuity. It comes from your mother’s portion so ensures it will not be granted with the rest of my estate. ”
Archie stared at his parents in astonishment.
The meaning couched behind his father’s careful words was clear: they were leaving him money that would allow him to remain independent.
No more having to find a wife that came with a sizable dowry.
“Does Charlie know?” He blurted out, and then added, “That is, I mean, I’m very grateful. ”
“Charles will find out,” said Father dryly, patting the linens at the corner of his mouth. “Oliver knows, as he witnessed the arrangement at the solicitor’s office.”
Ollie! That must have been what he’d been working on with father, and Archie resolved to give him a good-natured thump the next time he saw him for keeping it a secret.
He beamed, and must have looked quite deranged, for his father added, “Come, let’s not make a meal of it.
I have to warn you, it’s not an extravagant sum. ”
“I’ll be careful,” promised Archie. “And Ollie will advise me too, I’m sure.”
No doubt, Charlie would have a conniption once he found out, but Archie didn’t care. If he didn’t have to rely on his eldest brother for an allowance, he didn’t even have to see him anymore.
“This is the happiest I’ve seen you since before your first season in town. Do tell me you won’t give up on finding a good match though,” lamented Archie’s mother. He hemmed and hawwed around it until his father changed the subject by asking where they were looking to move to.
Although neither of them had any experience with the process of renting apartments, Archie had volunteered to help take on the task of finding some rooms. Damaris had rebuffed him, the demon finding some sort of exotic pleasure in the process of mundane human activities such as meeting with a landlord and poking around the rooms. If he worked any magic on anyone during negotiations, Archie didn’t want to know about it.
Damaris sent Archie the view through his eyes occasionally, or passed along the odd question about things that were important to humans, but Archie suspected that he liked these small conversations where he got to practice pretending to be human and exercise his manipulation magic in harmless ways.
In any case, Archie only knew that he had visited perhaps four or five places before telling Archie that he had settled on somewhere. I paid a deposit, Damaris thought, his opinion on the worthlessness of money evident in the dry undertone.
When Archie retired that evening, Damaris was there waiting for him in the half-solid half-shadow form that he seemed most comfortable in, sprawled naked across his bed. Archie spluttered, and slammed the door shut behind.
“Damaris! Someone could have seen!” He averted his eyes, then reminded himself that he was allowed to look.
That Damaris liked it when he looked, liked being admired, and liked it when his body had an effect on Archie.
It wasn’t unexpected that Damaris was here, given he came to claim Archie more nights than not, but usually Archie knew through their magical link if he was here or not.
“It is settled.” Damaris twirled something on his lengthy fingers, a keyring that he tossed at Archie.
Two sets of keys, although it wasn’t as if Damaris actually needed his, fit neatly into his hand.
A thrill quickened his heartbeat: a place of their own.
Clearing his throat, Damaris gave him a significant look. “The rooms come furnished.”
Archie’s fist tightened around the brass keys tight enough that they cut into his palm.
A shame that he couldn’t dissipate his body like Damaris and slither across the shadows of the city as fast as a thought.
Where had Nell put his darned coat? Archie fumbled for it blindly until Damaris rose, sliding his arm around Archie’s shoulders.
He thought it was an embrace at first, but Damaris melted around him, the darkness surrounding him like a heavy cloak, surprisingly warm.
The shadow fabric fluttered and caressed his neck.
Archie sighed with pleasure, and pulled it in tighter around him.
If the cab driver thought there was anything odd about his passenger, a singular nobleman swathed in an unnatural darkness who sat curled in the seat muttering softly and laughing to himself, he kept it to himself.
As they trundled through the streets, Archie noted their direction with interest. They headed in the opposite direction to the fashionable townhouse district, so the likelihood of them bumping into his family and family’s friends were lower, but they were still in a respectable neighborhood.