Chapter 523: A Change Worth Noticing

Derrick was in remarkably good spirits that morning. Seated at the conservatory table with his parents, he looked nothing like someone who had been found unconscious on a theater washroom floor the previous evening.

Marchioness Avery, sitting directly across from him, hovered over her plate with a look of delicate, persistent anxiety. She reached across the tablecloth for the fourth time that morning, gently patting Derrick’s forearm as she inspected his face under the clear light.

"Derrick, my son... are you truly feeling alright?" she asked, her voice tight with lingering maternal concern. "No dizziness? No lingering nausea from that awful substance? The house physician said sleeping powders from the lower city can leave a terrible haze in the brain..."

"Mother, please," Derrick chuckled playfully, leaning back in his chair with a wide, reassuring smile. "I’m totally okay. I swear. I literally just took an unexpected nap on the washroom floor."

From the head of the table, Marquess Avery took a slow, quiet sip of his black tea. He set the porcelain cup down onto its saucer with a gentle, barely audible clink, his sharp silvering eyebrows pulling into a fond, amused line as he looked at his son.

"You know your mother, son," the Marquess spoke in his deep, smooth voice, a light chuckle warming his tone. "She simply cannot help herself when it comes to worrying about us."

"Well, of course I worry!" Marchioness Avery declared, placing a hand over her heart with a dramatic, breathless sigh. "I care immensely about my family! Oh, thank the heavens nothing serious happened to either of you. Dear..." She turned her gaze sharply toward her husband, her soft expression hardening into something fiercely protective. "You must make absolute sure that disgusting Bramwell boy is locked away in a dungeon cell forever. He cannot be allowed to walk the streets or harm anyone ever again."

"Of course, my love," Marquess Avery replied smoothly, offering his wife a calm, reassuring nod as he buttered a small corner of his scone. "I will be speaking directly with the Minister of Justice this morning. I shall see what I can do to ensure the absolute maximum penalty is applied."

satisfied with his answer, the Marchioness let out a long breath, finally reaching for her teacup.

The Marquess shifted his attention back to his son, fussing briefly with the linen napkin in his lap. "Setting that unfortunate filth aside... how was your day with Lord Cherion before everything transpired, Derrick? I realize I forgot to ask you about your outing last night, given how completely overshadowed the evening was by that miserable incident."

Derrick’s face lit up instantly. "Oh, it went great! Aside from what that lunatic Heinrich pulled at the very end, we had an awesome time. We checked out the silk tailors on the main avenue, grabbed tea at that new shop, and just chatted."

Derrick let out a quiet, incredulous laugh, shaking his head as he leaned his elbows onto the table. "Honestly, if you told me a few years ago that I’d be spending a casual afternoon hanging out with Cherion Antel, I would have thought you were insane. Back then, spending time with him was completely unfathomable. Well, even talking to him for two minutes without him throwing a tantrum or screaming at a servant was a miracle."

Marchioness Avery let out a soft, knowing laugh, setting her tea down to join in. "Oh, I remember those days all too well. I was terrified, Derrick! Do you remember when Philia asked me to invite Cherion to our tea gathering a while back? I spent three days worrying about how catastrophic it might look or what kind of scene he would cause in our drawing room."

She paused, her warm eyes softening with profound, genuine affection. "Yet who could have guessed? Inviting him turned out to be one of the best things I could have ever done. If Lord Cherion hadn’t been present at that gathering... when you choked on that sweet pastry, Derrick..." She shuddered slightly at the memory, her voice dropping into a quiet, trembling whisper. "If he hadn’t acted so quickly... something truly terrible could have happened to you."

"I know, Mother," Derrick said softly, his playful demeanor easing into genuine quiet gratitude.

"We truly hold a life debt to Lord Cherion," the Marchioness murmured, looking over at her husband.

"Indeed," Marquess Avery agreed smoothly, his deep voice carrying a quiet, heavy resonance across the conservatory. "A debt that this family will remember forever."

The Marquess picked up his tea once more, holding the rim near his lips as his sharp eyes lingered thoughtfully on his son. "Which is precisely why I encourage you to maintain a close, earnest friendship with him, Derrick. He has proven himself to be a remarkably capable and loyal companion."

"That’s definitely the plan," Derrick grinned, taking a large bite of his toast and speaking around it. "As long as he doesn’t suddenly revert back to how he used to be! But honestly, I don’t think he ever will. Guess changing his partner and getting away from his old life was the best thing that ever happened to him. Getting engaged to Duke Valtrane really turned him into a completely different guy."

"I agree completely," Marchioness Avery chimed in warmly. "His Grace seems to bring out a side of Cherion that is grounded, mature, and deeply protective."

"And," Marquess Avery added, folding his hands atop the table, "as much as I welcome the prospect of you forming a genuine friendship with Lord Cherion, I would be foolish not to consider what such a relationship might mean for our house. He is to become the consort of Duke Valtrane, and that alone makes him a person well worth knowing. Should the two of you continue to grow closer, it would only be natural for our houses to develop a stronger understanding of one another. In a court where alliances are often forged through years of careful cultivation, I see little reason why we should overlook the opportunity to establish such a connection."

Marchioness Avery paused, her teacup halfway to her mouth as she shot her husband a disapproving look. "Oh, dear... really? Must you bring politics into a simple friendship over breakfast?"

The Marquess raised both hands in a innocent, defensive gesture, a suave, easy smile spreading across his face. "What? What did I say wrong, my wife? I am merely stating a practical reality. I am not suggesting Derrick use the boy. I am simply saying that we can help each other. If Derrick and Lord Cherion share a genuine bond, the relationship between House Avery and House Valtrane can naturally grow much stronger. That is a mutual benefit for both of our families."

"I know what you’re doing, Lord Avery," the Marchioness teased gently, shaking her head with an affectionate smile before returning to her meal. "Always thinking three steps ahead for the family."

"It is my duty as the head of this house," the Marquess chuckled softly, turning his warm gaze back toward Derrick. "In any case, son, write to him later today. Invite him out again when his hand has healed. Good friends, and strong allies, are rare in the capital."

"Way ahead of you, Father!" Derrick beamed, completely energized by his parents’ approval. "I was thinking about checking out that new restaurant by the east gardens with him later this week!"

"A wonderful idea," Marquess Avery murmured approvingly.

Derrick finished his breakfast in high spirits, chatting merrily with his mother about the local theater schedules before excusing himself to head up to his quarters to draft his letter.

Once the double doors of the conservatory clicked firmly shut behind their son, the lively atmosphere in the room settled into a comfortable, quiet calm.

Marchioness Avery picked up her delicate linen napkin, dabbing at the corners of her mouth before looking across the table at her husband.

"You really think very highly of Lord Cherion now, don’t you?" she asked softly, her tone curious.

Marquess Avery didn’t answer immediately. He took his silver butter knife, spreading a precise, thin layer of sweet marmalade onto his scone with slow, deliberate movements.

"I think Lord Cherion Antel is a very fascinating individual," the Marquess spoke quietly, his voice growing more serious as he spoke. He set the knife down onto his plate with a soft click, his gray eyes drifting out toward the glass walls, staring into the sunlit garden terrace beyond.

The Marquess still wore the same pleasant smile he had maintained throughout the meal. His expression was every bit as courteous as before, but his gray eyes held a calculating glint that his smile did little to conceal.

"A young noble who was once famous strictly for his vain tantrums and fragile ego," the Marquess whispered under his breath, so softly it barely carried across the quiet table, "yet now, he seems to get along with people he once would have driven away, speaks to others with an ease I would never have expected of him, and can even defend himself when someone tries to harm him."

"Is that a crime?" Marchioness Avery asked with a light, airy laugh, reaching out to pat his sleeve fondly.

"Not at all," Marquess Avery replied, turning his head back toward his wife with a flawless, loving smile that completely hid the cold, measuring depth in his eyes. "It is simply... very interesting."