Dinner was an awkward affair. The Duke attended and presided at one end of the table, with Miss Aggs on one side and Lord Low on the other. There was little to no conversation. At the other end of the table, the Duchess sat with Mr. Trent on one side and Lord Hart on the other. That end of the table was nearly obnoxiously loud with chatter between the Duchess and Trent.

Lord Hart might have tried to make conversation on and off with the others, but with his father interjecting snide remarks each time he tried, he soon gave up. Lord Low was mortified at this behaviour from his father, who had never been so cross and rude in front of him before in his life. It had fair made him unnaturally silent about the whole mess.

In fact, if he had any illusions about the differences between his own treatment and his brother's in the past, it was completely gone. His father was being monstrously unfair. He felt the dissatisfaction and contempt of the man keenly at that table. He was so confused. What had his brother done to deserve this? Was it just for wanting to kiss a boy? Just that?

Did that mean... if he kissed a boy... then would his father be so cruel to him too? Could that loving and kind man which was his father only a month ago turn hard and cold as ice? It would seem as he sat in the dining room that evening, he could. He felt his own heart grow painful and twisted in his chest as the night wore on.

He wanted to cry like he had as a boy when he scraped his knees. This side of his dear parent was foreign and ugly to him. He wanted to shout at the man to stop what he was doing and open his eyes. That Derry was a good and capable man to be proud of. That he deserved a father's love too. That... maybe he was not so worthy as his father thought.

The tension in his shoulders and back made him feel stiff like a marionette, sitting at the table and eating by rote. Leaving more on his plate than usual because his stomach rebelled at the thought of the rich food he had eaten for so long at this table without knowing anything. His father had purposely kept him in the dark, he knew that now.

But why? Was it so important to him to keep Low innocent and ignorant? What was he so afraid of? If it was fear of Low loving his brother, then he was already too late. Low had always loved his brother more than anything on this earth. If it was Low knowing about relations between men, well it was too late for that the minute he shouted about it to the house.

Low was an inquisitive type of person. He was bound to find out everything eventually. Perhaps when he left home one day, or when strolling through the property, like he had found out about girls and such things to do with marriage. He exchanged an uncomfortable glance with Miss Aggs, still pushing his peas around on his plate.

After some fruit for dessert, his father had left unceremoniously for his study and declined to take brandy or port with the others. It was like a spell was lifted with his departure. The women were invited to join them in the parlour and they were all able to converse in a lighter and freer manner than the dining table.

Suddenly his brother was able to smile and laugh. He could say witty things without disapproval and interruption. He lit up again, and was more handsome than Low could remember him ever being. He could not tear his eyes away from the sight. If his brother had been this happy away from everything to do with home, then perhaps it had not been such a bad thing that he had left.

Margery brought out a deck of cards and began a game with Derry and Miss Aggs. Mr. Trent came wandering over to his side and Lord Low offered him a top-up on his glass of brandy. He carefully poured the man a glass under a watchful eye. The liquid was swirled in the cut crystal, then sniffed appreciatively, then sipped.

"I am not sure how you can drink that. It smells awful." He smiled to himself. Trent got a crafty look on his face before replying.

"Well, it is an acquired taste. Not for everyone, to be sure. Some people find it a bit... strong. They prefer something milder and sweeter. I like the boldness. The way it... dominates my senses." He was staring at Low with an undecipherable look. Lord Low got the feeling that there was more to what he was saying than he understood.

"I suppose. I haven't really tried it, so I am sure I do not know. My father is not one to have me experimenting." The last was said with a trace of bitterness and he found his eyes drawn to Derry at the table, who was laughing and putting down a card. Trent seemed surprised and rather satisfied at the direction of their conversation.

"And... do you think you want to... experiment? Do you want to have a taste for yourself, Lord Low?" His voice had dropped a little, confusing Low. He nodded to the bottle of brandy when Low looked at him in astonishment. Was the man being forward, or was this just a conversation about spirits? He blushed at the thought of the former.

"Um, I... I am not certain." He gulped and stared at the crystal decanter that held the powerful liquid.

"Hmm, understandable. You are young and inexperienced with the world. It must be terrifying to try something new." Trent raised a brow at the boy. Low suddenly felt almost... taunted. Or was it insulted? He wasn't sure the boy wasn't making fun of him.

"N-n-no. Not terrifying. I just haven't decided if it's to my taste." He protested with a scrunched brow.

"How do you know if it's to your taste, if you have never tasted it?" Trent whispered into his brandy goblet with a dark look and raised brow. Low licked his lips, looking down at the shimmering liquid.

"I have never been permitted to taste it." He defended himself. Trent laughed.

"Yes, you are a good lad are you not? Following the rules and all. Have you never been tempted?" He tilted his head at the question. Trent had a point there, and it was one he was actually following.

"Not until recently." He looked over at the card table to see Derry taking a sip of his own brandy with a content smile on his face. Even Margery had a glass, so perhaps it was not so bad. He looked back to see Trent pouring a small amount into a fresh glass. He handed it to Low, after a hesitation.

"Here. Just hold it in your hand to warm it, like this." Trent showed him how to cup the goblet. "When it no longer feels cold and unfamiliar, bring it to your nose to smell it then."

"Why? What is the difference?" Low asked curiously. The other boy smiled at him.

"Brandy is better a little warm. That is why it tastes so heavenly in coffee and toddies. When you warm it, it gives it a smoother smell and taste on your tongue." He explained patiently. Low nodded and watched the liquid swirl in his own glass as he swished it around gently. After a few moments by the fire, standing in companionable silence, he lifted the glass to his face.

"Oi, Trent! Are you corrupting my brother over there?" Derry called out in a warm, friendly and teasing voice. Trent laughed at him and turned towards Low with a twinkle in his brown eyes.

"No more than you would." He retorted back, encouraging Low to try a sip of the brandy when he was ready. Low tipped the glass, just letting the golden liquid brush against his lips. He licked them with a thoughtful look. It was strong, but not as terrible as he first thought. "How is it?"

"I... I don't hate it. It is not as bad as I first thought." He admitted to the other man. Trent smiled knowingly at the words.

"A bit strong still?" He asked confidently. Low nodded shyly. Trent patted his back familiarly.

"You don't have to drink it all or anything. The fact that you gave it a chance is all that matters." His voice trailed off at the end curiously. Low was not sure if they were still talking about brandy. He gulped and tried to change the subject.

"What was Derry like at school?" He questioned with curiosity. Trent frowned a little as he looked over at a triumphant Derry, placing down his last card with flourish.

"Angry. He was angry, Lord Low." Trent looked at him with a significant look. Low gulped and nodded.

"He had every right to be." He murmured, thinking about the dinner that they had just attended.

"You have no idea." Trent retorted with pinched lips. Low took another sip of the sharp liquid in his glass, trying to replace the sharp feeling in his chest with the slide of the strong alcohol instead.

"No. I have no idea." He admitted sadly. Trent looked at him more softly.

"Have you asked him about it?" The boy inquired. Low nodded his head.

"Yes, but he won't tell me anything. He changes the subject. My father won't say anything either. They are both trying to keep me innocent." The last was said as a bit of a complaint, and the words ended with a sigh. Trent nodded his head, looking up at the clock in the room as it chimed the midnight hour.

"If you want to know what happened, come to my room tonight after everyone has gone to bed. Wait fifteen minutes and then just sneak in as quietly as you can. I will leave the door open for you." He said to him. Their eyes met, one determined and the other uncertain. Low gave a nod, and then with a nervous look into his glass... he downed the remainder of the brandy.

He coughed a little as the sharp taste assaulted all his senses. It burned in his chest on the way down his throat. Once it reached his stomach though, he felt a rather pleasant warmth and calmness. The lingering taste on his lips was spicy and rather nice. Trent was watching with narrowed eyes for his reaction.

"Not bad." He placed his empty goblet on the side table and went to say goodnight to the others. He missed the twisted smile on the boy's face as he left the room.

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