Duke of Camellias

TWO

The Duke of Thornton had sent for a carriage to pick up the boy, Blair Millais, from the train station, but some time had passed since then. He had already eaten his meager breakfast consisting of nothing but ham and tea, for he despised eggs and beans. Bread, too, wasn't a favorite of his, although they were fine occasionally, at luncheon.

Now Emmanuel picked up his brush and had began fixing a painting he started a week ago. He worked slowly, usually only finishing a painting after a few months, but he worked on several at once, depending on his mood.

Today he was irritable, both because he had to wait, and because the newspaper hadn't had any interesting news. And, if you counted it, he woke up with his hair parted to the wrong side and even now, felt a curl spring back up.

He dabbed white, black, and green onto the top of the canvas until it formed stormy clouds. Then below, he outlined the girl in a blue dress until she contrasted sharply against the dull grey cliffs she stood on. He wondered how much this piece would win at the auction if he titled it 'Suicide' against 'Girl Beneath Stormy Clouds'.

His butler, Flemings, grizzled with grey and white, rapped at his door, and then Emmanuel turned in his seat.

"What is it?"

"Your guest has arrived, sir."

"Very well, bring him to the drawing-room."

"Yes, sir."

As Flemings's footsteps faded, Emmanuel stood up and pulled on the satin waistcoat he had taken off in case of the paint getting on it, and then checked that his cuffs were clean before rolling them back down and leaving the room.

As he walked to the drawing room he saw his butler bringing a small worn out leather trunk up the stairs, probably to the room he had lent the writer he was employing, and noted how little items he had.

Poor, indeed, he thought, and then he stepped into the drawing room. He had to search the room, for there was no one on the brocaded couch, before he found a figure studying a painting of his in the far back of the room.

Emmanuel cleared his throat.

The boy, Blair Millais, jumped before turning.

"Don't you know it's bad manners to not stay seated while you wait for someone?"

Blair's eyes darkened for a moment, but then he quickly regained his composure.

"Of course, sir. I apologize for the rudeness."

Blair walked back to the couch and then sat there, and Emmanuel, upon sitting, observed how thin the boy was.

Blair had a rugged look to him, but maybe it was because his hair, like the shade of a Welsh Pony's coat, thought Emmanuel. He thought about mixing brown and white, maybe adding even a bit of yellow, in his mind, to recreate the color, and then realized the awkward silence they were sitting in.

"Well, you are Blair Millais, I assume," Emmanuel said. "I am Emmanuel, Duke of Thornton."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

"Forget the pretenses," Emmanuel said, waving a hand, as though to dismiss it. "Now that you are working as my writer, you will have to listen to me talk for a long period of time—I can't stand being treated like a nobleman as I spill my darkest secrets to you."

"Very well."

Emmanuel was surprised to hear the casualness that quickly overtook the boy's tone. His thick heavy eyelids lowered and eyes were dull.