"He is avoiding me. What did you say to him?" Lord Hart said accusingly to Trent as they sipped tea in the gardens with half a dozen of his stepmother's friends from the area.

"Hmm? Nothing. He is probably just working some things out in his head." Trent said cryptically. Derry turned to him with a frown.

"Trenton." He drew out the word with a dark, stern tone of voice and his friend smiled and shivered a little.

"Don't use that tone with me, Der. You know how much your authoritative voice turns me on." He whispered the last bit and tilted his head at his friend.

"What did you say to him." Lord Hart said demandingly, no question in his words at all. Trent shrugged his shoulders casually.

"It's fine, Der. We talked about brandy, but we didn't talk about brandy. He is just thinking through our conversation, I am sure. He will be fine in a day or two. Give him some space." He said with a comforting pat on the arm. Derry looked at him accusingly.

"I don't believe you. There is more that you aren't telling me. No matter. The boy can't keep secrets to save his life. He will spill it to me eventually." He replied with confidence. Trent just grinned at him mischievously and sipped his tea.

His father came into the garden just then and went to speak with Margery. Lord Low was standing in the group that was talking there, and just before their father arrived he frowned and moved to another group. Lord Hart watched with curiosity as he struck up conversation with Miss Aggs and the new group, effectively turning his back and snubbing his father.

"That's an interesting development." He murmured to himself. Trent had begun talking to the group of older ladies that was near them, who thought he was an absolutely charming young man of course. He had already managed to secure invitations to no less than six parties before they were supposed to leave, and it was not yet dinner time.

Contrary to his father's hopes, the two friends were as much a hit as his elder son had been. They found all three of them well mannered and elegant youths. Lord Hart may have been accused of flirting delicately with a few matrons, all in good fun you understand, however it was all innocent and agreeable to the ladies who had far less entertainment on a regular basis than pleased them.

"Come Mr. Henry and sit with us for some cakes." One elderly lady said with a kind smile. Trent made a face and waved his hand about dramatically. Unfortunately, this got the attention of the nearby groups who watched with interest.

"Urgh, no I couldn't. My bottom simply won't allow it. Too many hours in a carriage travelling this week, dear lady. Those need a sight more padding on them to tempt me. I will take a turn around these lovely flower beds instead." He offered his arm to the woman on his right and she curtsied acceptance before strolling off with him.

Lord Low was blushing profusely and his father was scowling. Margery just had an odd sort of grin on her face. Lord Hart decided to diffuse the situation a little by taking the woman up on her offer instead and stuffed a rather sweet tart into his mouth rather than accidentally say something he should not.

One thing was rather obvious though as Derry watched his brother's face. Somehow... he knew exactly what Trent had meant with his underhanded comment. Derry didn't know how his little brother had suddenly come to such a sophisticated realisation, and it made him feel a little sick to his stomach to think that he might guess what they had done last night.

Low looked so uncomfortable. He felt like he had wronged his brother somehow. As though just by showing up and being himself he had dirtied the pure boy terribly. On one hand, he should be elated that the boy was learning about things that set their father's teeth on edge. On the other hand, he wanted to protect the child from all the sordid knowledge of his past.

He wanted to wipe the frown from his handsome face and replace it with the smiles that lived there upon his arrival home. It disturbed him that his presence seemed to be making that boy more morose by the day. While innocent he had been far more full of smiles and laughter, or so Derry thought. Maybe he should just leave.

His thoughts turned dark. He didn't want to leave. It would cause far more trouble to his father if he stayed. It was a dilemma. Maybe he should just apologise to his brother. Perhaps that would lift the pressure that seemed to be suffocating him from inside. Now if only the boy would stop avoiding him long enough to do so.

Meanwhile on the other side of the group, Lord Low was trying not to make eye contact with Trent or his brother while simultaneously avoiding his father. It was more difficult than it sounded, and that was saying something. His stepmother, Margery knew something was up between them all. She had tried to pry the gossip from him already at lunchtime.

There was no way on earth or in heaven that he would admit to her what he had seen. To admit he had seen it was to admit to spying, eavesdropping and sneaking around at night. Worse yet was the way just thinking about it gave him the terrible blushes. When Trent had mentioned a sore bottom, he had immediately thought of the reason it was thus.

That led to imagining again what he had seen, which led to a rather uncomfortable condition in his trousers and a sharp feeling in his chest that threatened to make his hands shake dreadfully. It was better for him if he didn't think about it, which meant not looking at or talking to the two of them for the time being.

As for his father, just being near him after what he now knew made him sick to his stomach. He wanted nothing to do with the man who would have that done to his very own son. Derry was his flesh and blood, and he had thrown him to the pits of hell by the looks of things. No, he refused to even acknowledge such a man.

Every time he thought back to the way he had been spoiled, yes he admitted it that he was dreadfully spoiled growing up, it brought tears to his eyes now. While he was eating cake and running around the estate freely, his brother had been willfully locked away in a prison of torture and wretchedness by the same man who gave him everything.

While he had been loved and cherished, his brother had been beaten and hated. How on earth was he ever supposed to make up for such a travesty of a childhood? How was it possible that Derry did not hate him completely? Truly his elder brother was the best of men to be able to look at him now and smile gently.

He was perfect. Low could not fault him at all. Not for hating their father nor anything he might wish upon him, good or ill. The fact that he wanted to protect Low and keep him out of the conflict made Low want to help him even more. He wanted to take sides, now that he knew there were sides to take. He was on his brother's team in this conflict.

Now if only he could look at the man without picturing him naked.

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