A lot of...

The single rays of spring sun timidly peeked into the room through the thick, dark green curtain. By the tall window reaching close to the ceiling, there was an old mahogany desk, where chaos reigned on its surface: scattered papers, spilt ink, a few crumpled paper balls, dried wax...

At the back of the room stood a solitary bookshelf, next to which were slightly ajar, oak doors leading to a wardrobe, further extending into the bathroom, where white blended with gilded elements. In the centre, there was a large bathtub with golden feet, accompanied by a small stool holding an open book and a glass of dried red wine. The room also featured additional elements such as a basin for warm water and a large mirror with a thick, richly ornamented frame, shyly peering from the corner of the room.

In the bedroom opposite the desk, there was a massive oak bed that could easily accommodate an entire family. On the bed lay crumpled, cream-coloured bedding. The scene of disorder and clutter was completed by a snow-white towel on a round rug, serving as the central point in the room, and scattered clothes from the previous evening on the chairs.

Amidst the disarray of the bed, a young man slept. One leg protruded from under the thick duvet, while his arms lay limp in various positions. This youth, with chestnut hair always neatly trimmed and blue irises, closed but captivating, had the power to make any woman’s heart melt with just a fleeting glance. Despite his young age, Nathan Ashworth, for that was his name, possessed a subtle muscularity and a body adorned with a delicate tan acquired over the years.

Nathan hailed from an affluent family, the title of Earl belonging to his father and having been in the family for several centuries. Since birth, the boy had moved in higher social circles, often causing friction, especially during adolescence. He had no fondness for the balls organized by his father, Malcolm, kicking off the summer season, nor for afternoon teas with young ladies, or even for evening gambling at the Gentlemen’s Club. Nathan maintained an indifferent attitude towards the entire social scene, and all the preparations to present himself to neighbours and English society bored him immensely. During such times, he preferred strolling along the docks.

When he was younger, wandering around the harbour, he dreamed that one of those immense ships with billowing sails would be his own. However, the dream burst like a soap bubble when his father learned that Nathan spent too much time with the common folk by the waterfront. His anger peaked when he discovered that Nathan had decided to become a ship captain. At that point, he forbade him from frequenting the docks, citing the removal from the list of heirs. What else could the young boy do but comply with his father’s will?

The Ashworth estate, only in London, comprised two grand residences, a horse stable, and extensive gardens at the rear of the estates. In addition, the Ashworths often travelled to their summer estates, most of which belonged to various heirs of Malcolm. These included Walter, the eldest and strikingly similar in character and appearance to his father; Ralph and his younger brother Christian, considered the most handsome and sought-after matches in all of England; Eleanor, the only daughter and Daddy’s favourite; and the youngest son, Nathan.

“Master Nathan, please wake up!” shouted the butler, Raymond, with a hushed voice from behind the door. The man knocked twice more and then entered without hesitation. It was evident that the shouts and commotion of the butler trying to wake him had no effect on the young man. Raymond briskly removed the bedding from the bed and went to the wardrobe to prepare clean clothes for the master, grabbing a towel from the floor on his way.

“Raymond, what time is it?” asked the drowsy youth, turning over to the other side.

“Late,” muttered the man under his breath, then added, “Green will bring the master’s breakfast shortly. We have an hour to get dressed and have a meal because Earl Malcolm wants to see the master in his study.” Saying this, he placed a pair of clean, olive-coloured breeches along with a snow-white shirt on the sofa in the room, and drew open the thick curtains. The sudden flood of light into the room dazzled Nathan, who was sitting on the bed.

“Raymond, do you know what my father wants from me this time?” he asked, holding his head as if there were a dwarf with a giant hammer inside. The last night spent in the pub, though enjoyable, with a few barmaids circling around him, was now taking its toll.

“Unfortunately, no. But judging by the earl’s mood, it’s probably nothing pleasant.”

“Great,” muttered the young man under his breath, and began to slowly put on the breeches.

An hour later, Nathan walked briskly to his father’s study room, located in the opposite wing of the vast London residence. In his thoughts, he cursed the shoes whose clatter faded somewhere in the distant, deserted hall, thereby intensifying the dull ache in his head. The fact that he had a mighty hangover was solely owed to his elder brother. Yesterday’s evening escapades with Christian did not lift his spirits at all; in fact, they made him increasingly apprehensive about visiting his father and enduring another lecture on gentlemanly behaviour.

Malcolm Ashworth was already an older, greying man who had been facing health issues for several years, yet throughout his life, he never complained about a lack of female companionship. One might say he attracted these ladies like flies, thanks to his undeniable charm. Always impeccably dressed, in his youth, he slicked back his dark hair, and those eyes, inherited by all his sons... Pale blue, concealing all the emotions within.

Since the only woman he loved had passed away, he spent most of his time in the study in the western wing, where only a few servants had permission to disturb him, along with each of his children, but only in case of a life-threatening situation.

His study consisted of a massive desk adorned with letters and photographs, a fireplace with a perpetually smouldering flame when the Earl was present; several bookshelves, and three burgundy armchairs. The sombre character of the room was complemented by perpetually drawn curtains and candles lit in the corner.

Upon reaching the study, Nathan hesitated for a moment, then knocked on the door. He heard a muffled “come in,” after which he turned the doorknob with an uncertain motion. The Earl showed no interest in the arriving guest; he simply gestured with his hand for Nathan to sit in the chair, while he himself did not take his eyes off the results of the Sunday race in the weekly newspaper.

“You disappointed me yesterday,” said the older man, setting aside the partially folded newspaper. “I am disappointed in you.”

Nathan said nothing, just sat in the chair and looked at his shiny shoes.

“Listen to me, young boy. You are my youngest son, and eventually, you should heed the voice of those older than you. I won’t allow you to make mistakes.”

“I always listen! But never has anyone listened to what I have to say!” he shouted, rising from the chair and standing by the fireplace.

“Don’t raise your voice. The way you’ve been living has raised many concerns about your character. Christian has an awful influence on you. I hope you realize that. So, I’ve decided that you’ll get your share of the inheritance, on the condition that you get married,” he said with such a stoic, calm voice that Nathan, standing, couldn’t say anything in response. He felt a rush of emotions. After a moment of silence, interrupted only by the crackling flame in the fireplace, he said:

“Why are you doing this to me? Why me? After all, I’ve always tried to be a dutiful son. I gave up the sea and a life on the ship for you.”

“I’ll answer to you. I’m doing this so that you don’t make the same mistake as Christian. He married without my consent. God punished him with a lack of offspring for six consecutive years, and eventually, with the death of his beloved.”

Nathan stared at the crackling fireplace, not believing the words he had just heard from his father. After all, it was Chris who chose not to have children with that woman because he didn’t love her. Could it be possible that his own brother, the confidant of all secrets, was lying?

“You may leave,” Malcolm suddenly said, breaking the silence and pointing to the half-closed door. Nathan knew that his father had finished the conversation with him. He knew that gesture well. He looked at the Earl with a bewildered gaze, then left the room, closing the door quietly.

He had to think everything through carefully, meet with Christian, and clarify this tangled situation. Quickly, he headed to the stable. He ordered the chestnut steed to be saddled and went to visit his brother, who lived a few blocks away in a one-story house.

Ignoring the rain that had started to drizzle, Nathan galloped through the cobbled streets of London. During his journey, he passed several solitary carriages, but defying good manners, he didn’t stop, and didn’t greet family friends. At this moment, he was far beyond all conventions. Thankfully, the persistent rain of the past few days had frightened away potential pedestrians, allowing him to quickly reach his brother’s home.

After a few minutes of constant galloping, he reached the gate of Christian’s property. He knew it too well. This is where he spent many nights with his brother playing cards. It was also here that he often brought Chris after intoxicating nights in city taverns, mainly known for people drinking excessively, and often, especially men, waking up in bed with a different woman in the morning.

Nathan stopped the horse, then dismounted and ran up the steps to the mahogany front doors. Disregarding the possibility of being an unwelcome guest at his brother’s, he entered without knocking. Right at the entrance, he was greeted by the footman, Harry.

“Welcome, Master Nathan. Unfortunately, Mr. Christian is still asleep.”

“Then please wake him up. I have a serious conversation to conduct with him. I’ll wait in his study.”

Harry bowed and then went upstairs to Christian’s bedroom. At the same time, Nathan wandered around the study, unable to find a comfortable spot for himself. The armchair was too firm, while the sofa was too soft. After what felt like an eternity for Nathan, Chris appeared, dressed in a robe. Despite his twenty-six years, he looked very young. An outsider might think he was closer in age to Nathan than to Ralph, who was only a year older. Christian, despite signs of fatigue and a visible hangover on his face, looked excessively well. He rubbed his eye with the back of his hand, trying to wake up, then sat behind the desk, revealing his beautiful, light-blue eyes. Adding a few days’ stubble and his chestnut hair arranged in disarray, and there you had Christian Ashworth, a common rogue and heartbreaker. No one would have suspected that this man harboured such a sad but carefully hidden secret.

Nathan, unable to string words into a sentence, sat in the chair opposite the desk. He clasped his hands, which inexplicably began to sweat. He tried to form at least one sentence, but no words could escape his throat.

“What brings you to me at such an early hour?” Chris finally asked, unable to watch his brother’s efforts. “Especially since we saw each other just a few hours ago.”

“I’m here because of father,” Nathan said after a brief moment. “He summoned me to the study this morning, and...”

“Please, don’t finish,” Chris interrupted him mid-sentence. The older of the brothers knew exactly what Nathan was about to say. He got up from the chair and approached a small table where variously shaped decanters stood. He poured a bit of amber liquid into two glasses. During this time, Nathan asked, “So, you know what father told me, right?”

Christian nodded, then looked at a photograph of his wife on the mantle, framed in an aesthetic brown frame.

“Nathan, listen to me,” he sighed heavily. “A few years ago, with our brothers, we devised a plan, in case father treated you as he did each of us individually. We didn’t want him to force you into marriage through blackmail and manipulation. We concluded that the Great Hall, which you will inherit in the future anyway, would be the best place for our plan. You’ll invite ten beautiful ladies, whom you’ll choose yourself at the next opportunity. Father will think we’re organizing a regular debutante ball. He won’t know what’s really going on. Besides, he doesn't care about what happens outside his study. But there’s one ‘but'."

The younger brother looked uncertain.

“What is it?”

“How much time will father give you to complete the ‘task,’ which would be finding a wife for yourself.”

The brothers looked solemnly at each other. Christian handed his brother a glass and smiled conspiratorially.

“There’s one more thing. Father mentioned that God punished you with a lack of offspring, yet you said...”

“Nonsense. You know that if I tried, I could have a bunch of children, but I gave Carolynn a free hand. We rarely woke up next to each other in the same bed.”

Nathan looked at the glass and drank the amber liquid to the bottom, which first burned his throat and then warmed his entire body from the inside.

“I didn’t know.”

“Now you know,” Chris smiled sadly. “Enough of these melancholic memories. Have you had breakfast?”

Only now did Nathan realize that he had hurried so much for the conversation with his father in the morning that he didn’t have time to eat anything. He shook his head in denial and placed the crystal glass on the desk.

“Then consider yourself invited,” the older brother replied with enthusiasm in his voice.