   It is somewhat standard to joke about women who did nothing but lay down and stare up in bed, but I wondered if such jokes about men existed amongst fellows who associated with each other that way, If there were, a person like me would be the butt of the jest. I think I understood why many girls were like this on their wedding nights and their first times.
   It was fear-inducing—paralyzing.
   A million thoughts ran through my mind as the Lord touched me. He made me raise my hands, before pulling my nightdress over my head. He cradled me, pulling me into his lap as he ran his hands up and down my back as he kissed my neck. I stayed still like a doll, even though I wanted to touch him too. I was afraid of doing something wrong. My lack of experience showed in how shocked I was by the sounds the Lord managed to pry out of me.
   I took in a deep breath when I felt Lord Evenus take a hold of my hand before leading it under his shirt.
   “You can touch me too,” he muttered against my lips, touching the nape of my neck as his free hand palmed my buttocks.
   I let myself do as he said. I ran my hand on his chest, watching the figure of my palm under his silk nightshirt. His stomach was stiff. He took away my hand before pulling the shirt off and throwing it on the flow. My breathing hiked at the sight of him. I’d seen him shirtless before, but I hadn’t seen his scars up close. There was a good lot of them on his upper chest and one that looked relatively fresher than the other cut across his stomach. It wasn’t raised like the one on his face, but it was jagged and a pinkish white.
   His breathing made his chest to rise and fall, and the moonlight reflected off his brown nipples. My brows knitted into a frown as my lips drew into a tight line. All desire from before melted away and was replaced with worry for the Lord.
   “Why do you look so shocked?” he asked me as I reached out to trace the scars. My eyes flickering from one to the other. I was overwhelmed at how many they were.
   “Is this normal?” I couldn’t help but ask. I knew injuries were common. That’s what happened at war, but the sight of him made my eyes gloss over with unshed tears. Who wouldn’t have night terrors if they had wounds from fights like this?
   Lord Evenus’ silence worried me, but I didn’t want to push him to explain where the scares were to me, so I took my hand away, before reaching out my hands to cup his face. I kissed him, letting our lips linger as I moved my hands down his breeches. I remember how nervous I had been doing this for Alistair, but so had remembered how much he had enjoyed it. The Lord might too.
   He did. He moaned into my mouth as I let my fingers rub and squeeze around his shaft. His tongue was warm, and the hotter between my thighs felt, the more sensitive I got to the feel of his fingers on my skin. He touched my nipples, rolling them under his fingertips before taking them away to latch onto them with his lips instead. He kissed them, making me shiver. I bit down on my bottom lip, finding the sensation of his tongue and teeth on my chest thrilling. I shuddered. I was naked, but I wasn’t cold. The heat radiating from both of us kept us warm.
   He pulled away from my chest before looking at me as his hand moved between my thighs to cup me. His hands were warm and rough, and when he made to hold my shaft between his hands, my insides exploded. I gasped, burying my head in his shoulder as he touched me.
   I still had my hand in his breeches, and I did my best to match the pace he was using to stroke me until I felt my stomach churn as I came. The Lord followed suit, staining my hand. It felt warm—sticky. I didn’t have much time to process things since he took hold of my arm with one hand and grabbed one of the bed coverings with the other. He wiped my hand and then his, before hugging me to himself.
   “That’s all for today,” he whispered, his voice fanned my ear. I nodded into his shoulder. He pulled me at arm’s length, smiling at me before pressing his lips against mine again.
   Today, the Lord tasted like tea. Marie must have given him some while I worked in the kitchen.
   I spent the night in his bedchamber. Something I had increasingly done since I started going up to check on him. That night he trembled, muttering words I couldn’t make sense of as he pressed me up against his chest to the point that I was gasping for air. It seemed to be a bad dream, so I let him sleep through it, and it seemed that humming to him helped him relax. The mumbling and squeezing stopped, and the night progressed.
   Troy had crawled up in bed with us somewhere in the early hours of the morning when the birds had started to sing. The dog had licked my face, pressing up beside me as his tail slapped my side from its wagging. Lord Evenus had been fast asleep with one hand on my lower back and the other cradling my head into his shoulder. I had wanted to get up then—start with my chores, but I didn’t want to wake him, so I closed eyes again. The next time I woke up I was the only one in bed. Both Lord Evenus and Tory were nowhere in sight.
   I got up, getting into my nightgown before pulling the stained sheets from the bed. My cheeks warmed up from the sight of the stains. There was no way I was letting Marie wash this. As I tried to think up a way to do the cleaning by myself, I heard a piano playing. I wondered if the Lord was with the Count and his daughter, but I felt they’d be more concerned with packing to leave than chatting in a drawing-room.
   I ignored my curiosity and took the sheets with me to my bedroom before going about my duties. I was behind on schedule, but I managed to get breakfast ready and bring it to the dining room. Since Lord Evenus has guests he should eat in the dining room—at least, that’s what I had been told by Marie when she took the tray from me on the stairs to the Lord’s bedrooms yesterday before marching to the dining room.
   Lady Agnes and the Count came in soon after. At first, they had insisted on waiting for the Lord to come down, but he never did, even when Marie went up to fetch him. She had come back muttering apologies under her breath, telling the two that they would have to eat alone.
   The Lord didn’t leave the drawer upstairs, and it seemed the Count and his daughter, including Troy, knew not to bother him. Marie ended up serving the brunch she had been planning to be grand in the common room. I stayed with them, refilling their teacups and switching out their plates of biscuits, corn, and butter. They spoke between themselves as they looked through books.
   “I don’t think that physician you recommended to him is doing much to help,” the Count said, not looking up from the book in his hands. I poured tea into the cup sitting on the side table beside the armchair. Lady Agnes looked over to her father. She was standing at the bookshelves, book in hand. She half-closed it, using her finger as a placeholder.
   “If everything Gregory has done couldn’t help him, then I’m starting to think that maybe Evenus is beyond help,” she muttered. I looked away from her, but I had registered the stern look on her face. As cold as she was being, I sensed a sadness in her voice. It was less of not believing in Evenus’ recovering, and more of her feeling helpless that she couldn’t help. “He’s the best physician in the area. He’s helped even me.” I wasn’t sure why helping her was grand, but the Lady mouthed it like it was.
   Count Alan sighed. “I don’t think he should go on war campaigns anymore.” He bit into a biscuit he had picked up. “There are younger soldiers that could lead those. He can stay at his castle and write books or play as much music as he wants. I think him going on the yearly campaigns just undoes any progress he makes,” The Count said. I heard a sigh from Agnes. I looked up to see her walk over the blue settee Sir Bennett liked to read on. She took a seat, crossing her long legs. Today she was wearing a hose and a long shirt that she held together with a woven belt around her waist. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, making her strong jawline shine through.
   “I would have suggested you married Bennett if you could have children. I think a family is what he needs at this time.”
   I rose my brow at the Count’s words. He took a sip of tea, looking over at his daughter. “But as we know, you can’t.”
   “Hermaphroditism. I can’t consummate a marriage. I understand,” Agnes said. She seemed in a rush to end the conversation, and for the first time, her eyes drifted to me. I looked away, finding it strange that it was in the middle of this that one of them had acknowledged my existence. She seemed self-conscious about the information.
   Hermaphrodite. The word echoed in my head as I looked back at Agnes who was reading. It made a lot of sense now—why she looked the way she looked, and maybe why she acted the way she did. All I knew was that they were made to choose, and it seemed Agnes’ parents had chosen female for her. Although, she wasn’t falling into line behavior-wise. If she was up north or a mere peasant how she dressed and carried herself would have gotten her into trouble—maybe even charged with a crime.
   “I’m just worried for him,” the Count said, after not speaking for what seemed like a whole hour. “He’s like a son to me, and it’s hard seeing him cooped up in the drawing-room.”
   The drawing-room.
   The mention of it made me look up at the ceiling. There was no music playing, but I knew the Lord was up there doing God knows what.
   I wondered what the west wing held to keep him there for so long.
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