***

Videgrel stood in the shower room, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

In the past four days, he had become quite gaunt. Deep shadows lay under his eyes, his skin had noticeably paled, making the scrapes on his cheekbone and the bruise on his forehead stand out more.

The man touched the nearly healed scratches with his fingers and pressed his lips together in displeasure.

It was a mistake to get behind the wheel that night. No matter how confused his mind was, it wasn't worth the risk. Not only did he wreck the car, but he almost killed himself. Fortunately, there were no pedestrians on the deserted street, and no one else was hurt when the car crashed into a roadside pole.

However, Videgrel saw a silver lining in this. He didn't like driving and only got his license because his father insisted. Now, with the car totaled, he could comfortably use a chauffeur, attributing his refusal to drive to the shock and "emotional" trauma he experienced.

Yet, the loss of the car and a few bruises hardly bothered Videgrel. What truly tormented him was what he had done to Ethelstan, which robbed Videgrel of sleep and peace.

Videgrel blamed himself for not being able to control himself. He accused his foolish mind of idiocy and his body of weakness. Day after day, he berated himself for the weakness he had succumbed to. But he couldn't change anything.

He never returned home, instead settling at the "Scarlet Cube" for those days. Of course, he periodically called the housekeeper to check on Ethelstan and make sure he was okay, but he hadn't spoken to the guy himself even once during that time.

According to the woman, Ethel was in good health but had become withdrawn and sullen for some reason. He didn't leave his bedroom, refused to eat, lost sleep, but overall his health was not in danger. Besides, this had happened before, so no one paid much attention to the young master's "tantrums."

Videgrel didn't know what to do next. The guilt drowned out all rational thoughts, depriving him of the ability to objectively assess the situation and find a way out. Even distracting himself with work didn't help him clear his mind. No matter how much he overloaded himself with tasks, he couldn't concentrate on them.

"Videgrel, are you here?"

The voice of Michel came from the bedroom connected to the man's office, and Videgrel, turning off the water, replied:

"Yes, I'll be right out."

He grabbed the towel from the hook, hastily wiped his face, and tossed it on the edge of the sink. Then he left the shower and met the sullen gaze of his assistant.

"Something happened?" the man asked.

"You have a call from home. They say it's urgent. Answer already. I'm not your answering machine."

Videgrel nodded, and Michel hurried back to his tasks.

The man stood for a few more moments, trying to calm his racing heart, then walked into the office and picked up the phone.

"Hello," he said, his voice trembling slightly with anxiety, gripping the edge of his desk.

"You!.."

In the first moments, Ethelstan couldn't utter a word, struggling to hold back the angry curses that wanted to burst out at the man.

He had waited for his stepfather for four days, withering from hurt and loneliness, but insomnia and hunger had bred irritation in his soul, pushing the guy to take matters into his own hands.

"How could you abandon me?!" he finally found his voice, gripping his phone tightly. "You promised you would take care of me. And you ran away, scared of responsibility. Tell me, do I mean nothing to you?"

"Ethelstan?"

Videgrel was extremely surprised to hear his stepson's voice.

"No, it's Mother Teresa!" Ethel retorted sarcastically. "Why haven't you come back?"

"I don't think we should see each other," Videgrel cut the guy off mid-sentence. "It wouldn't be wise."

"I don't care! I almost went insane not knowing where you were!" the guy's outrage knew no bounds. "Tell me the club's address, I'll come to you."

"That's not even up for discussion..." Videgrel tried to reason with his stepson.

But Ethel, refusing to yield, grimly declared:

"Exactly, it's not up for discussion. I'm coming, whether you like it or not."

Realizing that he would never get permission from the man, Ethelstan cut off the call, not wanting to waste time on pointless arguments.

Short beeps sounded in the receiver.

And when Videgrel tried to call the guy back, it turned out that he had completely turned off his phone.

This argument was lost, and the man could only sigh in resignation.

Well, hiding from Ethelstan forever was impossible anyway. So maybe it's better to sort everything out right away? In any case, this problem required a quick solution. And since Ethel was serious, let him come.

Videgrel dialed Michel's number, and when the assistant answered, he said:

"Please prepare a table on the second floor. And order flowers. A large bouquet of white lilies."

"Has Miranda returned?" Michel asked without much interest.

"No, Ethelstan is coming."

In response, the assistant made a noncommittal sound and, assuring that he would do everything immediately, hung up. Videgrel then called the Greek restaurant and ordered a light lunch for two. After that, he returned to his bedroom to make himself look more presentable for his stepson's arrival.

***

Videgrel refused to give Ethelstan the address of his club, but the guy wasn't going to give up so easily.

After lying in his room for four days, barely closing his eyes, Ethel made some hopeful conclusions. And, getting out of bed, he decided to act before he and Videgrel made things even worse.

Ethel understood that the man didn't love him, but that didn't cool his own feelings in the slightest.

Even though things didn't work out now, Ethelstan didn't think of giving up.

In the future, when Videgrel gets tired of sleeping in an empty bed for half a year, he will start seeking comfort in someone else's arms. And then Ethel will get what he wants without much effort.

Easily convincing himself of this, the guy began to get ready for the club.

He carefully picked out his clothes and spent more than half an hour in the shower, trying to tidy up his miserable appearance. After that, he gathered all his willpower and, leaving the house, headed straight for the gates.

The servants didn't immediately catch on to what was happening. But when Ethel's intentions became more than clear, the head of security and the butler decided to intervene.

"Young master, you are not allowed to leave the gates!" the butler protested, blocking the guy's path.

"I wasn't planning to go out. Order the car to be brought."

Ethelstan crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the servant with a superior air, making it clear that he wasn't going to back down.

"But the mistress..."

"Are you deaf?" Ethel interrupted the man. "I said to bring the car."

"But..." the butler hesitated and gave a significant look to the head of security, who immediately called for reinforcements over the radio.

Three men rushed out of the security booth and hurried toward them, but Ethelstan didn't even flinch.

He looked at the butler, who was his mother's main accomplice, and a wave of irritation rose in his soul.

"I warn you," the guy whispered softly, "if you don't open the gates and let me leave within five minutes, the editors of the largest newspapers in New York will receive my letters, in which I have revealed the truth about your beloved mistress. In them, I haven't forgotten to mention that I'm being held in this house against my will and that my orientation is being called a mental illness. As soon as the editors read the letters, they will immediately call the police and social services at my request. And even if my mother manages to bribe them all, the publicity will still be overwhelming."

The butler's expression changed, not knowing how to react to this statement. Of course, he could risk trying to detain Ethelstan, but for some reason, he hesitated.

"Two minutes," the guy urged, feeling the tension and fear build up inside him.

Ethel wasn't bluffing. The letters were indeed on a timer, waiting for the specified sending time. The guy understood that if these letters actually spread to the editors, his life would become a real nightmare, and his mother would hate him fiercely. But to achieve his goal, Ethel was ready to take the risk.

"Bring the car!" the butler finally ordered, giving in to Ethelstan's threats.

The guy took a shuddering breath and pulled out his phone to cancel the mailing. But, noticing the predatory look of the butler, he smiled slightly at the corners of his lips.

"Don't flatter yourself thinking you managed to fool me," Ethel said. "Do you think I didn't take precautions? If I'm not taken to Videgrel, the letters will still be sent to the recipients from another email account in an hour."

The man darkened and stepped aside, making way for the arriving car.

Ethelstan, secretly rejoicing in his small victory, climbed into the car and asked Henry to take him to his stepfather's club.

The man nodded, and as the gates slowly opened, he started the car and drove off.

The drive to the club took about half an hour.

Ethelstan fidgeted anxiously in his seat the entire time, staring at the passing scenery outside the window.

But when Henry drove him into some dreadful slums, where trash was scattered everywhere and some windows were missing glass, the guy became distressed.

"Where are we?" he asked, eyeing the grim-faced teenagers who watched the car with sullen looks.

"South Bronx," Henry replied. "To be precise, the most criminal part of it. You'd better not stare at the local riffraff. They might get angry and shoot at the car."

Ethelstan recoiled from the window and looked at the man in fear.

"And why did we come here?" he asked, puzzled.

"Because Mr. Roger's club is located right here," Henry calmly explained, maneuvering around a wreck standing in the middle of the road, on which a man with a criminal appearance sat. He didn't seem the least bit worried that some people in a luxury car were witnessing his shady dealings, as he handed out brown paper packages to his cronies. A warning smile played on his lips, promising nothing good to those who couldn't keep their mouths shut.

Ethelstan quickly turned away. And Henry, having bypassed the dangerous group, continued on his way as if nothing had happened.

Another ten minutes passed before the car parked in a lot next to a low building, above the main entrance of which hung a glaring neon sign. The glowing letters formed the simple name "Scarlet Cube," at the end of which was a geometric figure matching the name.

Ethelstan skeptically surveyed the unremarkable area, with the grim facades of brick high-rises, and got out of the car.

The smells in the area were nauseating. It seemed as if a ton of gasoline had been spilled somewhere, and the puddle had been covered with rotting food waste that everyone had defecated on.

Grimacing with disgust, Ethelstan took a few steps toward the entrance, still doubting that this club really belonged to Videgrel. He stopped, afraid to go further.

The asphalt under his feet was cracked. It was clear that it hadn't been patched in a long time. Dirt had collected in these cracks, and in some places, plants were sprouting.

There wasn't a single car in the club's parking lot. And the guy didn't see a single living soul in the vicinity.

He hesitated and glanced back at the car where Henry was sitting, and jumped when he heard a familiar voice coming from the direction of the club.

"Ethel, come here quickly!" Videgrel called, appearing at the club's entrance.

The guy's heart leaped into his throat and pounded wildly in his chest. He sighed with incredible relief, and taking a few swift steps, he enveloped his stepfather in a tight embrace.

"Never do that to me again! Never leave me and disappear! You are my father, so be responsible! What if something had happened to me? You left me in such a terrible state and didn't even think about my feelings."

Instead of shouting and accusations, to Videgrel's surprise, reproaches rained down on him.

Ethelstan clung tightly to the man and seemed not to be afraid of him at all. Though Videgrel was sure the guy would never come near him again.

"Sorry," the man could only say, closing his eyes, feeling immense relief that Ethel didn't hate him. "Sorry, I had to leave."

"No, you didn't..." the guy said petulantly. "At least not for four days."

He pulled back and gave his stepfather a reproachful look, then gasped and raised his hand, gently touching the man's face with his fingertips.

"What happened? Did you get into a fight?"

Videgrel's cheek twitched nervously, and he quickly moved Ethelstan's hand away from his face. Then he pushed the guy towards the entrance.

"Everything's fine," he said, letting Ethel into the club. "I lost control of the car. Let's go upstairs. I ordered us lunch."

He headed for the stairs leading to the second floor, and Ethelstan followed him, looking around with interest at the club's interior.

"Have a seat," the man invited his stepson to the set table. And when Ethelstan sat down on the leather couch, Videgrel sat across from him. "We need to discuss something before Miranda returns. And I want to ask you to take this conversation seriously."

"I hope you're not planning to leave our house?" the guy asked, frowning. "I don't even want to hear about it. I won't let you go anywhere."

"Miranda is my wife, in case you've forgotten," Videgrel chuckled tensely. "It would be strange for us to live separately."

Ethelstan frowned for a moment, but before he could say anything, Michel approached them, pushing a cart with a huge basket of pure white lilies.

There were so many flowers that some of them didn't fit in the woven basket, and a few lay simply on the cart.

"I asked for a bouquet, not the entire flower shop," Videgrel stared at his assistant in bewilderment.

But Michel just shrugged.

"Be more specific in your requests... Mr. Roger," Michel replied indifferently. "Do you need anything else?"

Videgrel quickly shook his head, and the assistant left.

The man was silent for a few moments, and then gently touched the delicate petals with his fingers.

"They are beautiful, aren't they?" Videgrel grasped a thin stem and brought one of the flowers to his face, inhaling its light fragrance. "Exquisite, delicate, fragile... like you."

A soft smile touched the man's lips when a slight blush appeared on Ethel's cheeks at his words.

"Forgive me for that evening," Videgrel said, handing the guy the flower. "I behaved terribly. Unforgivably and inexcusably terribly."

Ethelstan, stunned by the sudden gift, reached out and grasped the lily's stem with numb fingers.

No one had ever given him flowers before. And this gesture from Videgrel made his heart ache painfully.

"Part of the blame lies with me," Ethelstan countered. "I provoked you myself. And then I realized that you had no feelings for me, and I was horrified by what I had done. Please forgive me too."

He lowered his gaze guiltily and breathed in the delicate scent of the lily.

Videgrel smiled warmly.

It was good that they could talk to each other calmly and without mutual reproaches and accusations. Ethelstan was more mature than he seemed. And despite his young age, he knew how to make measured decisions and assess situations rationally.

Yet, there was still something they needed to discuss.

"Are you familiar with the language of flowers?" Videgrel asked, picking the most beautiful bloom from the many.

Ethelstan nodded.

"Yes, I've heard of it. But I haven't delved into the details."

"As you probably know, every flower carries a sacred meaning," Videgrel said, holding the lush bloom between his fingers and plucking it from the bouquet. "In many religions and traditions, white lilies symbolize purity and innocence. Noble intentions, sincere friendship, spiritual love. These flowers embody tenderness and care..."

The man fell silent, rolling the stem between his fingers and making the flower's petals quiver slightly.

"I know that your feelings for me go beyond friendship and affection," he said after a brief pause. "I understand and accept that. But I can't reciprocate your feelings. And it's not just about your mother or your age. I don't love you, Ethel. Not in the way you want me to love you. But you are dear to me. Very dear. So..." Videgrel took a deep breath and handed the guy the flower. "Take this as a symbol that we will never cross the line that currently divides us. Accept these flowers as my promise never to abandon or betray you. I want our relationship to be like the meaning of these beautiful blooms. And I really hope that you will agree with me."

Ethelstan listened to Videgrel attentively, and a shadow of gloom appeared on his face.

The man's words caused him pain. And the white lilies, beautiful and fragrant, suddenly stirred a terrible irritation in his soul.

The guy pressed his lips together for a moment, trying not to show his true feelings, and forced a strained smile at his stepfather.

"I understand..." he said in a trembling voice, holding back the urge to tear the flower into tiny pieces. "I won't provoke you anymore. I promise."

Ethel took another lily in his hands and placed it on the table in front of him, not wanting to even look at it.

"Thank you," Videgrel said sincerely, feeling the anxiety and tension that had held his heart captive for all these days begin to recede, allowing him to calm down and relax.

He could see that Ethel was hurt by his words. But the truth was that the guy's dreams were not meant to come true. It was better to leave everything as it was now than to bitterly regret a foolish decision later.

"Well, now that we've cleared everything up, I think we should hurry up with lunch. The club will be opening soon, and I'd like to take you home. My club really isn't the most suitable place for you."

"Here we go again," Ethel pouted. "You act like a jealous guardian. This is a perfect place to meet some handsome guy. Maybe I'll meet my fate right here?"

"Fate?" Videgrel laughed. "That's unlikely. But you could find plenty of trouble here. This is a nightclub, Ethel, and not all its patrons are as nice as you. Just trust me. I don't mean you any harm."

"But you don't seem to mean me any good either," Ethelstan began to whine and argue. "I want to stay. Where else am I supposed to find a boyfriend?"

"Are you serious?" Videgrel couldn't believe his ears. "You really want to find a partner in South Bronx? I don't think that's a good idea."

Ethel frowned, understanding that his stepfather was trying to distract him from the topic. But noticing the man's unwavering determination to stand his ground, he decided not to continue the argument.

In any case, he now knew where the club was and could come here without permission at any time.

A sly smile played on the guy's lips. He pulled his plate closer and began to eat.

Videgrel sighed with relief.

'Good thing Ethel didn't insist,' he thought, watching the guy happily devour the kleftiko*. 'Good thing this difficult situation has finally been resolved. Now I can breathe easy and not worry.'

However, fate had its own opinion on the matter.

Notes:

Kleftiko is lamb baked in a special oven.

***

While having lunch at Videgrel's club, Ethelstan ate deliberately slowly, trying to delay the inevitable moment of parting.

Chewing the meat carefully, he looked around, but there was nothing remarkable in the dark and empty hall.

The man hurried him several times, but the guy ignored his requests, continuing to do things his way.

Eventually, his plate was empty, and Videgrel called the waiter to clear it.

While the young man fussed around the table, Ethelstan watched him with interest, noting his attractive appearance and lean, fit figure.

The club employee, noticing his direct, inquisitive gaze, smiled slightly and walked away.

Ethelstan looked after him and widened his eyes.

"Are you saying he also lives in South Bronx?" the guy asked doubtfully. "He takes better care of himself than my mother. But for her, it's necessary because of her age. Why does he need it?"

"To maintain the status of an employee at a respectable 'disreputable' establishment." Videgrel shrugged and looked at his watch again, shaking his head.

Time was slipping away quickly. In a couple of hours, the empty hall would fill with patrons, the silence would be replaced by lively music, and the heart of the "Scarlet Cube" would awaken with a throbbing beat.

During this time, Videgrel still had some preparations to make. He couldn't dump everything on Michel again.

"It's time for you to go," the man said sternly, understanding that Ethelstan's question was just a way to delay the inevitable farewell. "I'll take you home."

The guy pouted, making a pleading face, but Videgrel stood up from the table and extended his hand, offering help in the hope that he would be tempted by the gesture.

And he guessed right.

Ethel immediately placed his hand in the man's and stood up, beaming a smile.

But when Videgrel tried to withdraw his hand, the guy didn't let him.

Gripping the man's fingers tightly, Ethelstan stopped smiling and said softly, blushing with embarrassment,

"Can I have at least one more non-'friendly' hug?"

Videgrel frowned upon hearing these words, and the guy hastily added,

"Just a hug, nothing more. You caught me off guard with your flowers and requests. And mom will be back soon. Do you think it will be easy for me to watch you being affectionate with her?"

Videgrel sighed heavily and nodded, pulling Ethel close and enveloping him in a gentle embrace.

"You'll manage," the man said confidently. "One day, you'll understand that I'm not the one you need."

"How can I understand that if you won't let me stay here and find someone else?" Ethel sighed sadly, clutching the fabric of Videgrel's jacket and hiding his face on his shoulder.

The man chuckled but said nothing, remaining firm in his stance.

Ethel bit his lip, knowing that if he didn't pull away from his stepfather now, he would lose all his resolve. He took a deep breath.

But before he could let go and step back, a furious shout from his mother, who had appeared out of nowhere, made him freeze in fear.

"What the hell is going on here?! Ethelstan, let go of my husband!"

The woman grabbed her son by the elbow and yanked him away from the man, giving the guy a slap on the back of the head and nearly pushing him down the stairs.

"Go home! Now!" she yelled.

Then she turned to Videgrel and slapped him hard, leaving a red mark on his cheek.

"How dare you touch my son?! What game are you playing?! Why did you lure him to this place?!"

The slap still echoed in his ears, and through it, crazy questions rained down on Videgrel. He looked at his suddenly appearing wife and didn't quite understand what she was talking about.

"Miranda, calm down," Videgrel asked quietly, shifting his gaze to Ethel, who was looking at them with eyes full of indignation and confusion. "What are you talking about? What games? And why can't I hug my stepson? What's so wrong with that?"

"And you still ask?" the woman exclaimed, her face contorted with anger. "I asked you not to indulge him. And you dragged him to a gay club and hugged him in front of everyone."

She was boiling with rage, hardly willing to listen to anyone but herself.

"If someone saw you two, how would that affect my career?" Miranda continued, piercing her husband with a furious glare. "I worked my fingers to the bone for years to build a good reputation, only to end up with a son who dreams of disgracing me and a husband who supports him in everything. I never expected such betrayal from you, Videgrel!"

"You started this scene over your career?" Ethel exclaimed, who expected accusations of infidelity but heard something completely different. "You're not even jealous?"

"Jealous of whom?" Miranda raised an elegant eyebrow. "Of you, you little brat? You're not even close to being a competition for me. Now go to the car immediately, or you'll regret it!"

She pointed to the club exit, glaring sternly at her son.

Ethel didn't budge, engaging his mother in a battle of wills.

Miranda turned away from him and looked at her husband, whose face was darker than a storm cloud.

"Don't you dare bring my son to places like this!" she demanded. "If you two appear together in public again, I don't know what I'll do to you."

Ethel snorted behind her back, but Miranda ignored him, glaring directly at Videgrel.

Videgrel could endure a lot: reproaches, shouting, utterly absurd accusations that he could counter. But threats... that was too much.

"And what will you do to me?" the man asked without a hint of sarcasm, stepping towards Miranda and towering over her like a dark, menacing cliff ready to crumble.

The woman blinked in confusion and involuntarily took a step back.

"Well? I want to hear what will happen to me if I continue to communicate with the person whose guardianship I have legalized. You knew perfectly well what kind of business I have. I told you about it before the wedding. So what are your complaints about MY son coming to my workplace to share his concerns and worries?"

The woman froze, shocked by the change in her husband, who had never allowed himself to look down on her or speak to her in such a tone. But her paralysis quickly passed.

"Ethelstan doesn't belong here," she stubbornly insisted, taking an unconscious step back. Then, turning, she grabbed her son by the elbow and dragged him down the stairs. "You little snake, you'll pay for everything you've done. Enjoy your last days of freedom. I don't want to see you anymore."

"And what will you do?" the guy retorted. "Kick me out of the house?"

"You'll find out," Miranda smiled maliciously. "I'll teach you discipline and respect. You dared to threaten me with the press and intimidate the servants? I'm out of your league, my dear."

She descended to the first floor and dragged the guy to the exit. He looked helplessly back at Videgrel, who stood as a dark shadow at the top of the stairs, doing nothing.

As soon as Miranda disappeared through the club's door, Videgrel sighed heavily and leaned on the railing, covering his eyes with his hand.

He had never wanted to be caught between two fires, but now he found himself in a strange position. He didn't want to spoil his relationship with his wife. He couldn't openly defend Ethel. Any of his actions now would be met with hostility by Miranda, but the guy would hardly understand that.

"Hey, you all right?"

Michel, who appeared at the bottom of the stairs, looked up at Videgrel with a frown, waiting for an answer.

The man sighed again and waved his hand.

"I'm fine. I was warned that married life is not a vacation," he said with a humorless smile, recalling a long and detailed conversation with his father. "It'll sort itself out."

"Want me to cover for you today?" Michel offered without much enthusiasm.

"Thanks, I'll manage," Videgrel assured his assistant and headed to his office, thinking that he would need to have a serious talk with Miranda in the evening and finally sort out the rather complicated situation that had arisen in their relationship.

***

September delighted New Yorkers with bright colors, warm sunshine, and a clear blue sky. Autumn had taken hold, but the air still carried the scents of summer grasses and flowers.

Videgrel sat in a chair by the open window, watching Miranda as she preened herself in front of the mirror with a warm smile.

Two days ago, they had returned from their delayed but finally accomplished honeymoon.

After the argument at the club, Videgrel hadn't hoped for a quick reconciliation. But once they returned home and had an honest conversation, they managed to come to an understanding and quickly resolved everything, deciding not to bring up Ethelstan's orientation or his relationship with Videgrel anymore.

The man was glad that Miranda had realized her mistake regarding her son. He hoped that over time she would come to better understand Ethelstan, and that he, in turn, would understand her.

"I've been thinking about what you said," Miranda's voice softly blended with the chirping birds in the garden, "and I've decided that Ethelstan should go to college this year."

His wife's announcement came as a pleasant surprise to Videgrel, and he smiled sincerely.

"A wonderful idea," he praised her, already imagining how happy Ethel would be when he learned that his confinement was finally coming to an end.

"Yes, I think so too," Miranda smiled, looking at her husband in the mirror's reflection. "I spent a long time choosing from the schools listed in the catalog. I wanted to find something that would match not only his status but also suit his character."

"Ethelstan is a sociable person. Any college would suit his character."

Videgrel brought a cup of tea to his lips and took a small sip.

"Saint Isaac's Academy. That's the one I chose."

The corners of Miranda's lips lifted slightly when she heard the loud coughing of her husband choking on his tea behind her.

"What?" Videgrel asked hoarsely, praying to the merciless gods that he had misheard his wife. "Which academy?"

"Saint Isaac's," she repeated indifferently, and Videgrel almost swore.

"Miranda, dear, are you in your right mind?" he asked as if he genuinely doubted the woman's sanity. "Do you even know what kind of college that is?"

"An excellent closed-type college," Miranda replied. "I don't understand your outrage. You yourself said that Ethelstan needs to socialize with peers so he can find his fate. And this academy only enrolls young men from wealthy families. Ethel should be happy that I found him such an advantageous school in every aspect. If he does start a romance with one of these guys, at least it will be someone from a respectable family."

"My gods! Miranda, just a week ago, you didn't want to hear anything about fate or a partner for Ethelstan, and now you're finding him a suitable and advantageous match?"

Videgrel couldn't believe his ears.

"So what?" the woman feigned surprise. "In our circles, that's how it's done. I can't let him get involved with just anyone. Do you suggest sending him to an ordinary college? Maybe we should find him a college near your club that he's obsessed with day and night?"

"That's not the point!" the man couldn't calm down.

The problem was that Videgrel, unlike Miranda, was familiar with the headmaster of that school. He knew all too well the disciplinary methods used there. Therefore, he sincerely believed that Ethelstan didn't belong there. It was almost like sending the guy to study at his club.

"Darling," Videgrel tried once more to reason with his wife, "they use physical punishment there."

Miranda was silent for a moment, frowning. Then she smiled, adjusting the hem of her house dress, and approached Videgrel. Sitting on his lap, she stroked his cheek, trying to soothe and calm him, and quietly said,

"They only punish those who don't obey. Ethelstan could use a bit of discipline."

Videgrel looked at her grimly, unwilling to soften.

"Sweetheart," Miranda didn't give up trying to resolve this peacefully, "I'm always on set, and you're working at the club. Ethelstan is left to his own devices and doesn't listen to anyone. You do a lot for him, but has his character become even a bit more restrained? No, he demands complete attention, and one day it will lead to terrible consequences."

In the woman's eyes, tender and gentle, there was a glimmer of worry. Miranda loved her son. Videgrel had no doubt about that. And in truth, he couldn't insist that his wife abandon this idea.

"Promise me..." Videgrel said quietly, hugging the woman by the waist and kissing her shoulder. "Promise me that if he's unhappy there, you'll bring him back. I'm worried. He's spent too much time at home. The company of troubled guys is not the best environment for him."

"Not all the guys at that academy are 'troubled,'" Miranda said with a smile. "There are decent young men there, and some quite charming ones. But if he's truly unhappy, I promise I'll bring him back."

"Thank you," Videgrel said sincerely, gently kissing her smiling lips. "Have you told Ethel about your decision?"

"Yes," she replied. "The servants are packing his things right now. Today I'll take him to the academy. He'll hate and despise me for a while, but it will pass. I'm sure of it."

Videgrel nodded.

He hated this idea, but there was nothing he could do about it.

"Should I come with you?" he asked softly.

But his wife just shook her head and smiled.

"I can handle it. Let's go have lunch."

She got up from his lap and pulled him along.

And Videgrel obediently followed Miranda, thinking that he should have a word with the academy headmaster. Maybe he could soften the not-so-pleasant days that awaited Ethelstan in his new place.