Duke of Camellias

THIRTY-FIVE

Life with Laurence was different from the Duke, but Blair didn't dislike it. They went to markets and brought apples from stalls and walked while crunching on them.

Laurence knew every nook and cranny of London and even the nearby towns. He walked, when possible, and it saved him money as well as allowed him to find new places to explore. He pointed out each cafe and park to Blair, and identified the trees and plants in the region.

"You know everything," Blair said in astonishment. They were taking another stroll, and despite the cold, it was also refreshing.

"Don't flatter me," Laurence laughed. "I'm a journalist, if I didn't know the very place I lived I'd be damned."

"I've only been to London a few times," Blair found himself saying. "Once as a child, and twice with the Duke."

"We ought to bring Morris with us one day, and go to Convent Garden!"

"I've been there," Blair said softly. "The Royal Opera house."

"What?"

"With the Duke," he explained quickly. Then he realized he had been talking about him all day. "Forgive me for saying so much about him, I promise I'll stop."

"Say what you want," Laurence replied. "It's much better than keeping it inside and sulking all day. You'll find yourself much happier after saying everything you think, I speak from experience."

"I don't know," Blair whispered, more to himself than to Laurence. "As the older brother, I always kept from complaining. I never liked telling mother my problems, much less my sister."

"That's beauty they are family. I'm a friend."

Blair looked at him, incredulous, but he was serious. Blair nodded.

"Yes, you're right. Tell me about your family, Laurence."

"Mine, huh?" They two passed a street, and then continued their aimless walk, the sun filtering through the clouds, which were longer wispy and grey, but white and full, like cotton wads.

"My brothers were always the talk of the town. My elder brothers were handsome, if you can believe it," he chuckled. Blair could; Laurence himself wasn't a bad-looking man, in fact, he looked like a big dog at times. "But I was the tallest. They weren't very smart, though—I always read the most books and knew more than them. But women don't care about brains, they go straight for the face."

"You're only jealous," Blair teased. Laurence laughed.

"Non, non, monsieur! They were frightened away by how much I ate!"

They chuckled, and the sun shone bright. Blair stopped in his steps and looked up. It was truly March.

They went to a nearby pub. They ordered a few drinks and Blair felt light-headed, but better.

"You can't take liquor at all," Laurence scolded before taking away his third. Blair grimaced and tried to say something, but he was incoherent. Laurence finally paid for it and they left, Blair leaning against Laurence for help.

"Have you ever loved?" he asked, face burning. Laurence chuckled.

"I'm not that unlovable, my friend. The answer is yes."

"How were the girls you liked like?" he asked.

"Similar, and yet different from me," he mused. Suddenly, he seemed secretive, and different. "Now, let's hurry home."

They weaved through streets, and somehow, in the late evening, it looked more menacingly. The arches were high, the houses dark, and the strangers that passed by had harsh voices. Laurence only kept walking, Blair's arm over his shoulders, but because of his height, he felt like he was pulled up. Blair sighed, feeling hot.