Playing to Win (30 page)

Colin craned his neck. “Did you live in one of those tower things?”

“The turrets? No, I had a regular suite—er, room.” He cleared his throat. “The part way over there in front of us, with the darker gray stone, is the Auld Keep, built in 1425.” When Colin goggled, Andrew attempted to play down the grandeur without sounding dismissive. “We don’t use it ourselves, except at Christmas Eve and when my siblings got married. Mostly we hire it out. Last month a
Game of Thrones
fan club used the banquet hall for a Red Wedding reenactment.”

“Is there a dungeon?”

“Why, you fancy being chained up?”

Colin looked at him. “That was a joke, right?”

“Yes. You can tell because it was funny.”

“Sometimes you’re funny by accident.”

Andrew touched Colin’s hand, finding it slightly chilled. “For the hundredth time, you’ll be fine.”

Colin glanced down at the box of chocolates he was clutching for grim death in his lap.
Debrett’s Guide to Etiquette and Modern Manners
—which Colin had gallantly read twice this week and reviewed with Andrew during their drive—said that when one visits a wealthy estate, it was appropriate to bring a small gift with no practical value.

Andrew was immensely touched Colin had managed to get through
Debrett’s
without too much scoffing. The lad was earnestly trying to make a good impression.

“Do I look all right?” he asked Andrew.

“To the manor born, you look.”

“Because I’m wearing your clothes.” He tugged on the lapel of the gray summer-tweed blazer Andrew had loaned him, along with matching trousers, a dusty green V-neck jumper, and a blue dress shirt. Colin had refused to let Andrew buy him a brand-new outfit, protesting that the tuxedo kilt was already too much.

“You could be dressed in rags,” Andrew said, “and they would still adore you.”

“Why?”

Andrew made jazz hands around his own grinning face. “Because of this.”

“Because you’re hot?”

“Because I’m happy.” Andrew quickly kissed him, then slipped out of the car. While he waited for Colin to join him, he took a deep inhale of the country air, listening to the birds and crickets sing. Seeing Dunleven through Colin’s eyes made Andrew remember how special it was, despite its deterioration.

He hadn’t lied about being happy. This week, the barriers between them had crumbled as they committed to the utter madness that was their relationship. He’d even shown Colin the Answer Fish.

“It’s like a giant mouth,” Colin whispered beside him, gaping up at the castle’s wide main entrance. The arch above the porch stairs came to a sharp peak, and the large oaken door was flanked by a pair of tall, dark windows. It was rather intimidating, come to think of it.

“Just pretend it’s the back door instead of the front.” Andrew took Colin’s hand. “That way it’s not a mouth, but an arsehole.”

Colin’s booming laugh echoed through the courtyard, bouncing among the stone walls and bringing life to this ancient estate.

As they mounted the stairs, the front door opened. Mum swept over the threshold sporting a warm smile and a pink tweed jacket over a white summer dress.

“Andrew!” She embraced him tightly. “You look dashing as always.”

He laughed. “You say that every time.”

“Because it’s true.”

It was true. Tonight he was wearing a Maison Martin Margiela silk cotton summer-tweed suit, an outfit which had made Colin proclaim him “the only man who looks sexy in beige.”

Andrew kissed his mother’s cheek, then stepped back. “Mum, Lady Kirkross, may I introduce my boyfriend, Colin MacDuff.” His lips tingled as they uttered the word
boyfriend
.

Colin took the hand Mum offered. “Lady Kirkross. How do you do.”

“Mr. MacDuff. How do you do.”

Colin opened his mouth as if to answer, then shut it, no doubt recalling that
How do you do
was a greeting, not a question.
Well done
, Andrew thought.

“Welcome to Dunleven,” Mum said with a smile, then turned at the sound of footsteps. “And here’s Lord Kirkross.”

Dad ambled out onto the porch, his welcome as warm as Mum’s.

Colin greeted Andrew’s father smoothly, shaking his hand and offering a nod of the perfect angle and duration. As they all turned to go inside, his glance at Andrew somehow combined relief and terror.

Andrew took his hand again and offered an encouraging smile. He would have given a thousand pounds to know what Colin was thinking right now.

= = =

So. Much. Tweed.

It was true what they said about the countryside. Enormous tracts of land without a human in sight. Lords and ladies who defined the word
subdued
. And of course the ubiquitous tweed, in case one needed to go trudging through damp underbrush at a moment’s notice.

At least Colin had got through the introductions without any faux pas or “solecisms,” a word he’d learned from
Debrett’s
.

He stepped through the castle’s front door, and immediately his feet stopped working.

It looked even bigger from the inside. The hall in front of them was split into two. The archway to the left opened onto a sitting area beside a grand wooden staircase. The archway in front of him displayed a hall that ran the length of the building, with a rose-red carpet that seemed to stretch into infinity. The ceilings, here in the foyer and down the hallway, were made of white plaster, peaked like in a cathedral, with stone carvings at the center of each peak.

“It’s all so gorgeous,” Colin whispered, craning his neck to gape at the foyer’s massive brass chandelier.

“Thank you,” Lady Kirkross said. “We maintain it as well as we can afford to, at least the parts our guests see. Some sections are crumbling, but that’s the way it is with old houses.”

“I can imagine.” He couldn’t imagine. As they made their way down the hall, Colin tried to focus on the chatter among Andrew and his parents, rather than calculating whether his entire flat could fit inside each room they passed.

They lingered for drinks in the drawing room, where a small blaze burned in a marble fireplace, which was fronted by a fuzzy gray rug. Colin answered Lord and Lady Kirkross’s questions on his university studies and plans for starting his own business someday. He spoke at half his normal speed, so they could understand his Glaswegian accent, and asked polite questions in return, using as cues the dozens of family photos and portraits arranged on side tables, the mantelpiece, and the piano.

He was keeping his composure rather well, he thought, until the fireplace rug suddenly stood up and shook itself.

“Oh my God, it’s a dog,” he blurted, nearly spilling his drink. As he recovered, Colin was grateful hadn’t said “Fucking hell!” or worse.

“Spenser, come and meet Colin.” Andrew pursed his lips, making a kissing sound. The dog turned, banging its hip into the glass coffee table, and made straight for Andrew, whose face he started licking methodically. “Not me, you old horse.”

Colin put out his hand, which promptly filled with a fuzzy gray muzzle. “A deerhound, right? I’ve never seen one in real life, only on the Crufts dog show on TV.” He scratched behind Spenser’s ear, and the dog leaned his head into it, giving a huff of pleasure. Colin glanced at Andrew to see his face looking nearly as blissful as the dog’s. “Talking of animals,” Colin said, “I’ve noticed you’ve no—that is—” He stopped, fearing himself out of line.

“That we’ve no what, Colin?” Lady Kirkross asked.

“Heads.” He waved a hand at the walls. “Of deer and all. Most estates—when I’ve seen them on TV, there’s taxidermy everywhere.”

Lord Kirkross laughed. “We are mavericks in that respect.”

“Dunleven had plenty of dead animals on display before it was in Charles’s hands.” Lady Kirkross gestured to her husband. “But we got rid of them the day we moved in.”

“As a child I always found them disturbing.” Andrew’s father gave a mock shudder. “But I fear when I’m gone, the heads will return.”

“Over my dead body,” Colin heard Andrew mutter.

“Sorry?” his mother asked.

“Nothing.” Andrew scratched Spenser’s hip with the toe of his shoe. “I’d just rather not ruin the evening by discussing my brother, even obliquely.”

Fortunately Dermot, the butler, arrived then to announce that dinner was served. They went out through a side door onto a wide brick porch. Colin looked out over the lawn beyond, imagining how fast he could dribble a football over the manicured grass.

“See? I told you she’d love it.” Andrew pointed to the center of the adjoining rose garden, where the bronze yeti he’d bought from the Skymall catalog stood amid the bushes.

“My ability to humor you has no limits,” Lady Kirkross told her son.

They sat for the first course, oysters on the half shell. Thanks to Andrew’s dress rehearsal, Colin knew to use a fork to pick out the meat, then drink the remaining juice from the end of the shell, and finally to use the finger bowl to clean his fingers.

Most etiquette rules, Colin had discovered, were mere common sense. Still, it was exhausting to remember them all—like eating soup off the side of the spoon instead of the end, or tearing off each bite of bread instead of chomping the roll and setting its saliva-drenched remains on his plate—while at the same time keeping up pleasant conversation. But he wouldn’t have done so well on his A-levels if he weren’t clever and a quick learner.

At the end of the main course, the door to the veranda opened, but instead of the butler, out streaked a pair of yapping terriers, one white and one black. They rushed down the porch stairs and into the garden, ignoring the diners.

“Bonnie! Clyde!” Lord Kirkross called as he stood. The dogs ignored him. “I’d better collect them before they dig up all the roses.”

“I’ll give you a hand, Dad.” Andrew got to his feet, giving Colin’s shoulder a reassuring brush of fingertips. “Be right back.”

“Those wee rapscallions,” Lady Kirkross said to Colin. “The problem with collecting a pack of animals no one else wants is that there’s often a good reason no one wants them.”

Colin watched the dogs spin around the garden, easily avoiding their pursuers. “Is ‘pack’ the term for a group of terriers? Seems it should be ‘tornado.’”

Lady Kirkross laughed. “Oh, I like that. ‘A tornado of terriers.’”

Dermot came out then to serve the pudding course, a mixed-berry sorbet.
Good, something simple.
Colin waited until Andrew’s mother had tucked in, then began to eat his own.

“How did you enjoy New York?” she asked him. “Was it everything you’d imagined?”

“And more. The energy was tremendous.”

“It sounded quite the lark.” She took another dainty bite of her sorbet. “I hope it was worth it.”

Colin’s spoon froze above his dish. “Sorry?”

“On your weekend abroad, Andrew was meant to go to the Perth Ball, a significant event in our social season.” She dabbed her napkin at the corner of her mouth. “Several royals were in attendance. One of them asked after Andrew, and I had to tell them my son had broken his commitment to be present.”

“I’m sorry.” Colin’s heart thundered in his chest. “I didnae—I didn’t know.”

“Andrew explained what this Broadway show meant to you. About your uncle’s death in the war.” She tilted her head. “I was sorry to hear about that.”

“Thank you. But he shouldn’t have broken his obligation. We could have waited.”

“My son’s not one for waiting, as I assume you’ve noticed. When he wants something, he takes it and asks forgiveness later. Or not.” Lady Kirkross dipped her spoon into her sorbet but didn’t lift it. “He has made some foolish decisions on your account.”

Colin’s mouth went pure dry.

She turned her head toward the garden, where Andrew and his father were laughing at the dogs. “This may seem an outrageous statement to someone in your position, but we can’t offer Andrew much, his father and I. Dunleven costs a fortune to maintain.”

Colin nodded, afraid to speak. Even the crickets seemed to have suddenly hushed.

“This means that after university, Andrew won’t have the sort of money which automatically opens doors to success. To make his way in the world, he’ll need to rely on his social connections.”

Or his abilities, like the rest of us.
Anger boiled within Colin. He set down his spoon as lightly as he could.

“Ma’am.” Colin struggled to keep his voice low and level. “Are you asking me to save Andrew’s reputation by leaving him?”

Lady Kirkross raised her chin. “I wasn’t finished.”

“But—”

“Please.” She held up a silencing hand that Colin recognized well from his time with Andrew. “I was about to add the words, ‘Or so I’ve always believed.’”

Colin squinted at her. Now he knew where Andrew inherited his sense of drama.

Her face softened, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “He may lose his station if he loves you, but he’ll be happy. I’ve not seen such genuine joy on his face since he was a child. When he looks at you…” She paused, smoothing the ends of her shoulder-length silver hair. “He’s always put on a good show, but deep down—not even very deep—he’s growing weary of the life he’s built for himself. He wants something more. He’s
worth
something more than being a Twitter celebrity and the toast of London society. If he goes down that path, he’ll become yet another shallow, self-absorbed toff.” To Colin’s surprise, she reached across the table and grasped his hand. “But with someone like you to inspire him, he could do great things.”

He knew he should be flattered—and relieved—by her faith and support. But a few of her words made him uneasy. “By ‘great things,’ you mean…”

“Politically, of course.” She let go of him and returned to her sorbet. “You’re a perfect example of how hard work and ambition can overcome the most unpleasant circumstances. There are those who say that cutting benefits forces people to sink or swim. Well, here you are swimming to a better life. You’re proof that austerity works.”

Colin’s skin crawled with horror.
Him
, a poster boy for Tory policies?

He opened his mouth to tell Lady Kirkross he could only hope to “swim” because tuition was free in Scotland, a benefit that her people would happily take away. To tell her that all his hard work and ambition might get him exactly fucking nowhere, thanks to the shit economy magnified by her beloved austerity.