Chapter Text
Henry didn’t expect to have his whole world turned on its head at the breakfast table that morning, but he supposed no one ever did.
He was the last of the family to arrive at the table, unless one counted mother. But given that mother had barely made an appearance outside of her room in years, he supposed one shouldn’t. This was his routine. His grandmother was far too traditional for him to get away with skipping the daily family meal, but he could at least take his time getting there to spend as little time with her as possible. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
At least Bea was here, joining them in the country for the summer while her husband worked in London. Her presence alone was enough to make anything more bearable. He sat down beside her; she offered him a smile and lightly bumped him with her shoulder.
The whole family was eating in silence, the only sound the soft tinkling of silverware politely clinking against china. A slightly louder clang caused by Philip’s daughter Charlotte was swiftly corrected by his wife Martha. And his grandmother, Mary, Dowager Duchess of Windsor, sat at the head of the table, watching over them all as if surveying her territory.
Unsurprisingly, Bea was the one to break the silence, ignoring the disapproving frown from Mary as she turned to Henry and said, “Well, Hen, you’re acting positively normal this morning, so you must not have heard the news yet.”
Henry, never having been one for gossip, almost certainly hadn’t heard whatever news she was referring to, and wasn’t sure why she thought he would care so much, “I suppose not. What news would that be?”
Bea’s eyes sparkled with mischief, “The Claremont-Diazes have returned.”
That was unexpected, and also explained why Bea thought Henry would be so interested. Of course he was.
The Claremont Estate had become a controversial one. The former Baronet Sir Claremont had allowed his daughter Ellen to be courted by and then married to an ambassador from the Mexican state of Texas. It was a very obvious love match, and highly criticized by the ton, especially when Sir Claremont had passed and suddenly the Baronet was a brown man from across the Atlantic.
The Claremont-Diaz family had never put much stock in what others thought of them, to the endless aggravation of the ton, and while they were never known to engage in any openly scandalous behavior, neither did they bend themselves to others’ expectations, their reputation be damned. That had been until five years ago when, facing mounting pressure that their eldest daughter June had yet to debut despite having been eligible for several seasons, Oscar Diaz abruptly returned to Texas, taking both of his children with him. Notably, Ellen had not accompanied them.
Henry did not particularly care about any of that. But he did care about Alexander Claremont-Diaz, the younger son of the family, and Henry’s former best friend.
The Claremont estate was just down the road from this very manor house, and they’d spent their summers together as boys. Alex was vibrant, loud, and unapologetically confident, everything that Henry wasn’t. Henry couldn’t help but be pulled into his orbit, to be braver when Alex was around. They’d climbed trees, rolled around the grounds until they’d been covered in grass stains, and talked about books together. Though the latter had more so been Alex’s sister June’s preference. Alex had always had too much frenetic energy to sit and read for long. But he’d tried every time Henry had showed up gushing about a new novel. Because, he’d said, if it was important to Henry, then it was important to him too.
Alex was also heart-stoppingly beautiful, all sun-kissed skin, and wild dark curls, and bright smiles. Henry had been helpless; he’d already fallen for Alex before he’d even known falling for another boy was something he could do. And there’d been a time, toward the end, when he’d started to believe that Alex cared for him in the same way that he cared for Alex.
But then Alex was gone. He’d promised to write, but the letters had never come.
Henry swallowed down the thing bubbling in his chest that felt dangerously like hope. He was more pathetic than he realized to get so worked up about the mere mention of Alex, “Are they here for summer holiday?”
“Longer than that, I should hope,” Philip cut in, “The Baronet has finally seen fit to pass the title he clearly doesn’t want on to his heir. It would be a shame if Mr. Claremont was to follow in his father’s footsteps and once again leave his tenants reliant on a landlord from across the ocean.”
It was widely understood that Ellen Claremont was the de facto landlord of the Claremont estate, and handled more or less all of the responsibilities that entailed, even though she wasn’t officially allowed such a position. The way Alex told it, Ellen had been the one who was really in charge of the estate even when Oscar had lived there with her. But apparently out loud they were pretending Oscar Diaz had control over the lives of the Claremont tenant farmers.
Henry doubted Alex had agreed to take over the estate without the intention to do it properly, though. He wasn’t the sort of person who did things halfway, or allowed others to handle his responsibilities.
Which meant Alex really was moving back. Permanently.
“The entire family is shameful regardless,” Mary finally deigned to join the conversation, never one to miss an opportunity to point out what she perceived were other people’s shortcomings, “they never should have allowed that man to muddy the Claremont bloodline.”
Henry grimaced. He didn’t know who he was more disgusted with: his grandmother for making such a blatantly racist comment, or himself for allowing it to go unchallenged.
Mary wasn’t done though, “And look how they turned out. The daughter a spinster and the son married to a woman far below his station. It’s a disgrace to the aristocracy.”
Henry’s spoon clattered to his plate, rattling his tea cup and causing the whole family to stop and stare at him.
Married. Gran just said Alex was married.
“All right there, Henry?” Philip asked, sounding more annoyed about the rude interruption than actually concerned.
“Y-yes, sorry. Not sure what came over me.”
Bea gave him a sympathetic look. The conversation moved on without him.
He supposed it was unfair of him to be so surprised. He knew better than anyone how charming and handsome Alex was, how irresistible that made him. Combined with good prospects, Alex was a solid match.
And what exactly had Henry expected? Certainly not that Alex would have spent the last five years waiting for Henry so they could occasionally spend clandestine nights together. Alex, who was a glowing sun compared to Henry's dark cloud. Who'd seemingly forgotten about Henry as soon as he'd left him behind. Who hadn't even informed Henry he was returning.
No, he wasn't surprised Alex had managed to find happiness without Henry.
“Percy, please tell me you aren't serious?”
“When have you ever known me to be anything less than completely serious on the subject of parties?”
That was hard to argue with. As carefree as he was, Pez did not play around when it came to organizing a ball. His were known to be the best for a reason. Henry frowned. “Still, you could have at least warned me.”
“And give you time to come up with an excuse to skip tonight and continue avoiding your long lost paramour?” pez grinned at him, looking entirely like the cat that got the cream.
He was right, of course. Henry would have absolutely tried to avoid coming tonight had he known Alex would be in attendance. Not that he’d been intentionally avoiding Alex since hearing he was in town a few weeks ago. It has just definitely worked in his favor that they'd yet to encounter each other.
“Don't look so sour, Haz.” The grin had fallen from Pez’s face, mirth gone from his voice. “The guest list is plenty long. You don't have to talk to him if you don't want to; I think you're hurting yourself needlessly, but you're an adult and that's your choice. Yet I can't leave them off the list just because seeing the Baronet might make my best mate a bit sad. They've got enough of the ton turning their noses up at them, and I don't want to contribute to that.”
“No, you're right. I don't want that either.” Henry agreed. His heart might not be ready to face Alexander Claremont-Diaz yet, but he didn't deserve to be shunned. Neither did his sister. Or his wife. Probably.
So Henry did his best to be scarce as the ball got underway. Not that it was particularly out of the ordinary for him. Most of the well-meaning mothers had long since given up trying to get their eligible daughters an introduction to him. He’d keep to the fringes, dance with Bea a time or two, and be on his way early. Pez would understand.
Yet it was impossible not to notice when the Claremont-Diazes arrived. Good or bad, they were the newest curiosity in town, and so the whole room gravitated toward them when they entered.
Alex had a woman on each arm. On his left Henry recognized his older sister June, strikingly similar to her brother and in a pale yellow gown. And on his right an unfamiliar woman who must be his wife, natural curls pulled into a bun atop her head and wearing a gown that matched June’s but in purple. She was, to Henry's chagrin if not his surprise, beautiful.
Yet they both paled in comparison to Alex himself. Once lanky, Alex had grown into his broad chest and shoulders, filling in his navy suit to perfection. Clean shaven, his jawline was sharp enough to cut glass. His time in the Texas sun had only done his bronze skin tone favors. And it should have been impossible for Henry to make out the individual lashes framing brown eyes from across the room, but he was certain he could. His memory of Alex, which had seemed almost inhumanly ethereal, hadn’t done the real thing justice.
Alex started scanning the room. Henry couldn’t be certain who or what he was looking for, but he quickly turned away so they wouldn’t make eye contact. There wasn’t much need to avoid it beyond that, because the three newcomers were quickly swarmed by people looking for introductions.
“You’re sulking.” Bea observed as she came to stand beside him some time later. He’d been watching Alex dance with his wife. The ease between them was obvious as they twirled around each other on the dance floor. They were both all smiles. At one point Alex leaned forward to whisper something meant just for her, which set them both to laughing and earned them curious looks from the dancers surrounding them. It was plain to see, would have been even for a perfect stranger, that Alex was happy. That hurt worse than anything, which left Henry feeling vaguely disgusted with himself. Who was he to deny Alex his happiness?
Henry turned away from them to focus his attention on his sister, “I always sulk.” He answered plainly. That was true enough, even if they both knew there was more to it than that tonight.
“You could just talk to him, you know.” Bea offered, as if it were simple. Henry opened his mouth to tell her he absolutely could not do anything of the sort, but he never got the chance. A smile spread across Bea’s face, “Look at that; it seems he is taking the charge for you.”
Henry followed her gaze toward the dancefloor. Sure enough, the dance had ended and Alex was headed right toward them, his wife nowhere in sight.
“I was hoping to encounter the two of you here tonight,” He said easily, as if his presence alone weren’t upending Henry’s very existence. Small miracles, he focused his direct attention on Bea first, offering a small nod, “My sister tells me it’s Mrs. Stuart now?”
Bea curtsied, “And the gossip circuit tells me you’re Sir Claremont-Diaz now.”
Alex wrinkled his nose, “I will never get used to that. Especially not from an old friend. Can I be just Alex?”
“Only if I can be just Bea.”
“Deal.” Alex grinned, holding out his hand for a shake as if they’d actually closed a business deal. Bea laughed as she shook his hand. Then he turned that disarming grin on Henry, met his gaze with those warm, brown eyes for the first time in five years, “He–”
“Sir Claremont-Diaz.” Henry quickly interrupted with a nod. He did his best to hide his wince after he said it. He was deliberately hurting Alex and he knew it, but his heart just couldn’t handle the familiarity.
Alex did not hide his reaction. He visibly deflated, eyes a kaleidoscope of surprise and hurt before he managed to steel himself with a more neutral expression. He started again, “Mr. Fox. Long time no see.”
Too long, Henry thought desperately. But also not long enough. He wasn’t ready to face Alex like this, didn’t know what to do or say. He could feel the atmosphere growing frigid between them, the silence stretching wider, but couldn’t find the words to fill it.
“We were hoping for the chance to meet Lady Claremont-Diaz,” Bea cut in, recognizing that he needed to be rescued from himself.
Just like that, Alex was smiling again, “Nora went to get some more champagne, but we’re both looking forward to your meeting as well. I know you’ll both love her.”
At that he spared a noticeably cautious glance back to Henry. It was all Henry could do to keep his expression neutral. He was not quite so confident his feelings for Nora Claremont-Diaz would be positive, but that was hardly her fault.
“What of Mr. Stuart then?”
“Oh, he had to stay in London for business, regrettably.” Bea answered plainly, sounding not at all like she regretted her husband's absence, nor like she particularly enjoyed it. Whether or not Alex noticed Bea’s apparent ambivalence toward her husband, it went unaddressed.
“His loss. But in that case, I can’t very well leave you standing idly all night. Shall we?”
“We shall.” Bea placed her hand in Alex’s outstretched one and, with one last pointed look back at Henry which said we will be talking about this later, allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor.
Henry watched them go as regret and relief battled in the pit of his stomach.
“We’re not going to let them have all the fun, are we?” Someone asked before he’d had much time to reflect on his self-loathing. He turned his head to see June Claremont-Diaz standing beside him.
She must have approached them some time after Alex did. Henry couldn’t say he was surprised he hadn’t noticed. The room could have caught fire while he was watching Alex and he likely would not have noticed.
“I suppose not,” He replied automatically, before he’d even fully processed what she was suggesting. And that was how he found himself dancing with Alex’s sister.
It wasn’t exactly easy to carry out a conversation in the middle of a dance, but that didn’t stop June from trying. She asked him what books he had been reading, and he asked her in return. They gushed about the ones they had both enjoyed, and complained about the ones they’d hated.
It was nice, he found. To see June again. To talk with her as if no time at all had passed, without his insides rebelling against him.
Maybe he could do this, find his way back into some sort of easy friendship with the Claremont-Diazes. Be normal about it, and stop pining after Alex. Surely his heart had to stop falling apart at the mere thought of Alex with someone else eventually.
With his thoughts swinging back to marriage, suddenly something Alex had said while speaking to Bea occurred to him, “Your brother mentioned you informed him of Bea’s marriage.”
June raised an eyebrow, bemused, probably by Henry’s refusal to admit to a first name basis with Alex. But rather than comment on it, she simply answered his question, “Yes, she told me about it in one of her letters.”
She was gracious enough to once again not comment when Henry missed a step and stumbled in their dance.
“You and Bea exchanged letters?”
“Only very occasionally. Mostly just about big milestones, like weddings.” After a brief pause, she seemed to realize the implication behind her words, and hastily added, “But Alex and Nora’s marriage and moving back here all happened so quickly I didn’t have a chance to write I’m afraid.”
Henry was mostly still reeling from the fact that letters were written at all. Shortly after Alex and June had left, Bea was sent to live with relatives, so it made sense that he hadn’t known she was writing June. But he wondered why she’d never told him.
He wondered why Bea and June, who had always been friends but never nearly as close as he and Alex, could stay in touch when they could not. If nothing else, it reinforced that Alex hadn’t stayed in touch because he hadn’t wanted to. It hurt, but it was for the best if he was going to sincerely try to make his friendship with the Claremont-Diazes work.
“I’m glad,” Henry said, and despite the hurt he was feeling he found he really, sincerely meant it, “Bea didn’t really have anyone, for a while. It’s good to know she had you.”
At the end of the dance June said, “You and Bea should come for tea. I want to talk about books more, and you can both meet Nora properly.” She was smiling happily, like she would get joy out of introducing Henry to Alex’s wife. Then her smile turned knowing, “And I’m sure it would make Alex happy.”
After tonight, Henry wasn’t so sure about that. But he didn’t want to bring June down. “That would be lovely.”
At the time, the offer had seemed nebulous. It was possibly just a case of June being polite, and even if she’d meant it sincerely was likely to be shut down by Alex after the way Henry had snubbed him. So it had caught Henry off guard when the actual invitation arrived about a week later.
So now here he was, two weeks after making an utter arse of himself at the ball, calling on Alex and his family.
June met them at the door. Without the eyes of society on them, she didn't hesitate to hug both Bea and Henry in greeting.
“Its so good to see you both.” She said animatedly. “I'm glad you were able to come. It will be nice to be able to talk properly.”
She ushered them into the sitting room, where both tea and Lady Claremont-Diaz were waiting for them. June gestured for the two of them to sit, but did not join them right away. Her eyes scanned the room, “Where's Alex?”
“Hasn't emerged from his office since he holed up in there after breakfast, as far as I know.” Lady Claremont-Diaz answered.
“Ugh.” June rolled her eyes, then offered an apologetic smile to him and Bea. “I'm sorry for my workaholic brother. I'll go separate him from his desk now.”
There wasn't even time for Henry to go through the motions of insisting such a thing was unnecessary. Leaving no opening for a response, June turned on her heel and strode back out of the room.
That left them alone with Lady Claremont-Diaz.
She was wearing a plain white morning gown, but her tight curls were pulled away from her face with a bandeau of yellow florals. She really was very beautiful. Her hair was thick and dark. Her features were soft, but her posture was strong and confident. She had intelligent brown eyes.
She was also staring at Henry.
Maybe it was unfair to call it staring. He'd been looking at her as well, after all. But there was something about her gaze that made him feel as if he was being examined. The feeling was not at all assuaged when she broke the silence by saying, “Okay. I get it now.”
Henry was at a loss for how he should respond to such a thing. He honestly was not even sure she expected a response from him. Bea swooped in to rescue him once again.
“Forgive me, I don't think we've been properly introduced yet. I'm Bea and my brother is Henry. It’s lovely to meet you.”
“Likewise. Nora.” Lady Claremont-Diaz–Nora–answered, plain and direct. Most would call it rude, but Henry couldn't help but appreciate the lack of pomp. She nodded toward the tea tray on the table between them, “I think I'm supposed to serve you now, which I'm more than happy to do, but I need you to know I will probably do something wrong and offend your English sensibilities.”
Bea grinned, reaching for the teapot herself, “Much appreciated. Fortunately, despite what our station may suggest, Henry and I are unbothered serving ourselves.”
If Henry hadn’t noticed Nora’s shoulders relax ever so slightly at that, he wouldn’t have even known she was tense.
“How does one go about pouring tea wrong, anyway?” He asked, knowing full well how particular his peers could be about etiquette, but wanting to help lighten the mood.
Nora looked positively gleeful to answer. “Don’t ask me, we usually just dump ours in the harbor.”
Henry brought his hand up to cover his mouth, a vain attempt to disguise his snort of laughter. Oh no, did he actually like Nora? That was going to make envying her much more complicated.
The claremont-Diaz siblings returned shortly thereafter, Alex rubbing the back of his head and sheepishly apologizing for not being there to greet them while June looked on with a stern expression. June then promptly took the seat next to Nora on the settee, leaving the chair next to Henry as the last available to Alex.
Henry saw Alex hesitate. He saw the way his eyes moved from the chair to Henry's face, as if he were searching for confirmation that Henry would accept such close proximity. And Henry knew it was his fault, that he'd erected this wall between them, had done it on purpose even. But it still hurt to see the uncertainty on Alex’s face and know that he had caused it.
He also wasn't about to make Alex stand awkwardly in his own sitting room throughout all of afternoon tea, so he nodded and said, “Hello Alexander.”
A smile unfurled across Alex's face, and just like that it was as if nothing had changed between the two of them in Alex's mind.
Conversation flowed naturally between the five of them from there. Even Henry could start to believe that nothing had changed over the past five years. And Nora fit right in as if she had been there all along.
Eventually they'd all had their fill of scones and biscuits, and the chatter had started to slow. June and Nora exchanged a glance that could have been an entire conversation by itself. Then June turned to Bea, “Do you still play piano?”
Bea, who loved music more than anything, lit up, “I do.”
“We’ve just had the piano tuned. It has been collecting dust for years while we were away. Will you play for us?”
Bea heartily agreed. Then, with no further discussion, the three women rose from their seats and left the room. And suddenly, Henry was alone with Alex Claremont-Diaz.
Even Alex couldn't quite pretend it wasn't awkward now. He was pointedly not looking at Henry, his knee bouncing with nervous energy.
“You know, I half expected to see June drag you in here by the ear earlier.” Henry tried, once again feeling responsible to break the tension he had created.
Alex laughed, and Henry did his best to ignore the warmth that bloomed in his chest.
“She would have if she needed to. You know me, I don't know how to do things halfway.” He wrinkled his nose then, distaste plain on his face when he added, “even if that thing is being a landlord.”
Henry hesitated. He's been wondering about that, truthfully, but it seemed risky to ask about personal matters when things were so tenuous between them. Now Alex had brought the topic up himself, though.
“I'll admit, I was surprised to hear you'd taken up the title. You’d never seemed particularly keen on it, and I'd rather thought Ellen was content with things as they were.”
Alex diverted his gaze, no longer looking Henry in the eye. “Yes, well, sometimes things change.”
It was a very telling non answer. Clearly, for all his attempts to act like old friends, Alex was not interested in getting personal about anything meaningful. Henry's tone was clipped when he answered, “Yes, they certainly do.”
Alex winced. His gaze was fixed firmly on the floor, and his knee was bouncing again. Henry felt a stab of guilt, but not enough to smooth over the rough edges of his words.
There was a long pause before Alex, voice soft and uncertain, asked, “What happened to us, Hen?”
Something about the question opened up the floodgate inside Henry, unleashing all of the emotions he’d been keeping at bay. Sadness, envy, regret, and a new somewhat unexpected feeling: frustration. Alex was hardly being fair, acting like nothing had changed between them, getting hurt when Henry didn't reciprocate, then closing himself off the moment Henry actually tried. What was he supposed to do with that?
That frustration was surely the driving force behind his decision to snap, “Why don't you tell me, Alex?”
Alex, understandably, looked quite taken back by the sudden change in tone. “...What do you mean?”
“I've been here, same as always. You're the one who left, who came back just to inherit a title he didn't want, who got married–”
That seemed to have exhausted Alex’s patience, and his good will. He stiffened, narrowing his eyes, “Wait, are you telling me this is about Nora?”
Henry faltered. He hadn't intended to admit to that part. “Well, it’s not entirely about her…”
Alex had risen from his seat, so full of nervous energy Henry was surprised he didn't start pacing the sitting room. “I can't believe–I mean, it was the obvious right choice. I thought you, of all people, would understand.”
Henry didn't know what to do with that declaration. But he did know he was tired of pretending he understood, that it was fine and he wasn't hurting. “Maybe I've changed too, then.”
For a moment, Alex looked like he’d been struck. Then his expression turned cold. “Right. You know, I've got a lot of work to do. I think you should go.”
And then Alex stormed out of the sitting room, and Henry was alone.