Amelia glanced at Baron, and at his nod, she retreated, having already filled everyone else’s cups.
Huxley cut into his roasted squash, chewing with vigor, as if the awkward atmosphere didn’t bother him. Perhaps he thrived upon it. Corvin shifted food around his plate, and even Leon seemed hard-pressed to find his appetite.
“Leon Reeves first, then.” Huxley swallowed. “Tell me about yourself, boy.”
“So you can criticize it all?” Leon snorted. “No thanks.”
“I’d heard things about your dismal social manners. Seems it’s all true.”
“You’re no peach either, Huxley.”
Baron cleared his throat.
“Right,” said Leon. “You’re no peach either,Mr.Huxley. Better?”
It was going to be a long night.
“You enjoy common chores, it seems, including cooking. An activity far beneath the son of a lord.”
“If it’s so common, how come everyone can’t do it? And you seem to be enjoying my squash just fine.”
Mr. Huxley shifted focus to the other side of his plate, taking a spoonful of spiced lentils.
Leon smirked. “Made those too,” the boy muttered.
“Corvin Reeves,” Huxley said, speaking over Leon. “I hope you are more impressive than your twin.”
Baron could see Corvin tempted toward sarcasm, but he generally had better control of his tongue than Leon, or at least more inclination totrycontrolling it. In the end, he listed a few hobbies—falconry, reading.
“Baron’s teaching me dueling,” he said.
“There’s no need for that. We’ll find a proper sword master to teach you.”
Corvin frowned. “Baron’s the best swordsman at court. He’s won every melee he’s ever participated in.”
“I have never seen him compete.”
“Well, not everyone invites him, but that’s not—”
“A proper sword master, then. I’ll find one at once. You’ll also need to be proficient in jousting and other sports. Hunting, of course. Have you ever been pheasant hunting, future lord baron?”
Corvin’s face paled. He almost dropped his knife.
“I don’t kill birds,” he choked out.
“You’ll have to. A proper lord of court must be able to hunt with the king whenever His Majesty invites.”
Baron said, “If Corvin has no interest in hunting for sport, he’s free to abstain. Last I checked, there was no list of hobbies required to hold a title.”
“You would know so very much,” Huxley said scathingly, “having lost your title before you even held it.”
Baron smiled. “And how many titles have you held, Mr. Huxley?”
Leon snickered into his squash.
Huxley fell quiet for a time, but he soon recovered and continued interrogating Corvin. The boy never ate, only fidgeting in his chair and answering a barrage of pointless questions. Baron called for dessert early and, after that, a swift end to dinner, but even so, it was a torturous hour. When Huxley retired at last, it was to everyone’s relief.
The three Reeves boys collapsed in the sitting room, Baron in his favorite chair and the twins on the sofa.
