Duke of Camellias

ELEVEN

The two man had rode the considerably empty first-class train, and on the train, Emmanuel read a newspaper without talking to Blair. Blair looked outside at the unfamiliar scenery and pretended to be amused, but he couldn't immerse himself in it. No matter what, all he thought about was Emmanuel's reaction in the carriage. The look in his eyes, and the weak voice in which he begged Blair to hold him.

Hold me, he had said. Hold me.

The scene replayed itself in Blair's head, and he couldn't help sheepishly sneaking peeks at Emmanuel, but he didn't look up even once from his newspaper during the trip.

When the train finally stopped, he asked Emmanuel if he was fine. Slapping together the newspaper, and then folding it and leaving it on the seat, he stood up dramatically.

"I'm fine. I haven't been out in some time, so it startled me, but now I'm fine. Now, where should we head to?"

"What do you want to do?"

Emmanuel looked at him. "What do I want to do? Well, let's see, I would like to get you some new clothes. I heard of a good tailor at Oxford Street, by the name of Saunders, if I remember correctly."

"Buy me clothes?" Blair hurried to catch up with Emmanuel. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Now hush, and come with me."

Frowning at his tone, a sharp contrast from before, Blair shook his head, but followed him nevertheless.

Once they stepped out of the train station and into the streets, Blair gasped.

London was just as he imagined, bustling with activity, from people jumping on omnibuses to dog-carts and street coaches, and men and women pulling wagons selling milk, fruits, and old clothes, all of them crying out their products loudly.

"It's London!" Blair breathed. Then he hacked, for it smelled awful.

"Yes, it's London, with them ole' bags of mystery," Emmanuel said, turning up his nose at the peddlers. Blair frowned.

"What's bad with that? I used to always buy cheap, mixed meat. They were cheap and good." Blair scoffed. "Of course, it's not good enough for you, your highness, right?"

Emmanuel regretted what he said, immediately, but he couldn't apologize. Ironically, he felt humiliated, and not his lips. Together in silence, they walked, only now instead of gawking at the town, Blair focused on the path ahead.

Before long, they reached Oxford Street, and Saunder's Tailoring Services, and upon opening the door, a little bell rang out, and Emmanuel held the door open for Blair, who walked past him and gave a small, emotionless "Thank you."

Once the ruddy, pleasant tailor finished with his customer, he went over to them.

"A new coat for him," Emmanuel said, turning to Blair. "And two waistcoats, two trousers, and three white linen shirts." Blair was quiet. Emmanuel tried to get him to speak.

"What would you like them to be made out of, Blair? And what colors?" Blair looked away.

"I don't know any materials, you can decide. Black for the coat would be fine."

Emmanuel nodded, and turned back to the tailor. "A black frock coat, single-breasted, and above the knee. A blue silk waistcoat with embroidery, a plain black one, and a black trouser and a checked grey one."

"Noted. Now if you don't mind, sir, you can step here for the measurements." Blair nodded, and stepped forward towards him. Another man, probably an apprentice, showed some fabric to Emmanuel and Emmanuel gently traced his finger over each one. Then he smiled at a certain one.