True to his word, as soon as rings were exchanged and vows spoken, champagne popped and cake eaten (a cake that Kurt couldnt bear to take a bite of), Kurt and Marley climbed into Blaines carriage for the trip to the countryside – and the Anderson Estate. Servants had packed Kurts and Marleys things in trunks for them, and a second carriage had been commissioned to deliver their belongings ahead to the manor.

Kurt didnt speak to his father throughout the entire ordeal, and before he departed, seated across from his new husband in the carriage, Kurt offered his father only a succinct and unaffectionate good-bye.

"You may want to consider a more heartfelt farewell," Lord Anderson counseled. "You never know what tomorrow may bring."

Kurt looked into Blaines face, unable to comprehend why this matter should concern him. He turned away, letting the subject drop, but he felt Lord Andersons eyes watch him, waiting for an answer.

"I will take the matter under advisement, my lord," Kurt said, keeping his seat and remaining quiet.

His father watched the carriage depart with blank eyes and a heavy heart, but Rachel wept openly, surrounded by her husbands arms, making a scene enough for both of them.

It took two days of traveling by carriage to reach the Anderson Estate. They made a stop overnight at a small inn after covering half the distance. They dined together but took separate rooms – which suited Kurt just fine. He wasnt ready for his wedding night, and he had no wish to consummate his marriage in a cramped room at a roadside inn. It seemed odd to Kurt for a man of Blaines station to feel comfortable sleeping the night here. Kurt was certain they could have found a more reputable inn had they not only traveled far enough. But the owners of the establishment seemed to know Blaine well, and went to great lengths to make them feel comfortable and safe.

The mood of the journey the following day did not improve. Kurt kept to himself, staring out the carriage window with Marley by his side, holding tight to her masters hand. Blaine watched the two as they traveled. They made no conversation, with him or each other, and the young maid mirrored her masters humor. They cut a sullen picture as they rode along, and it took much on the part of the young earl to keep from rolling his eyes.

The sun began to set as they turned onto the gravel path that led to the earls estate, and like the lifting of a veil, Kurts whole attitude changed. He laughed and smiled, sitting forward on his bench and leaning out the window to get a better look.

"Oh, look at it, Marley," Kurt breathed. "Isnt it glorious? I havent seen it in ages.

The body of the manor was obscured by tall trees, but the trees parted into a clearing and there it stood, magnificent but quietly intimidating. The manor house was finer than his fathers, but the memories it evoked made it equally comforting.

The carriage passed through wrought gates that opened directly into the gardens, with roses flanking the road along the entrance. Blooms of every size and color reached out into the path, as if extending their spindly stems to greet them. Kurt reached out a hand and brushed the velvety petals with his fingertips as they passed. It was a special place - the flowers fragrant and vibrant, the grounds green and peaceful, reminiscent of the hillside where he sat and sketched during those times when he needed to forget his troubles for a while. Kurt felt that it would be in this rose garden of many colors that he would find his Eden.

He would need it, for as they further approached the massive house, he could already see an entire assemblage of servants lined up to greet them.

The carriage rolled to a stop, and a young man with dark skin hurried forward to open the carriage door. Kurt heard Blaine mutter, "Thank you, Matthew," as he exited the carriage and struggled down the few steps, with the man ever present in case Blaine should misstep and fall. Kurt emerged after his husband, but the helpful servant returned to his place in line, not offering Kurt a hand to help him down.

"These are the servants for the grounds and the house," Blaine explained. "The main servants, actually. There are others, but I dont know that you will have occasion to speak with them."

Kurt nodded, since there was nothing he could think of to say.

Blaine went down the line of maids and butlers, footmen and stable hands. Some of them wore faces Kurt remembered - faces from his youth, with perhaps a few more lines around the eyes or a few more strands of silver to the hair. Regardless of that fact, Kurt noted that not a one looked at him. One or two of the servants stared straight ahead with eyes full of resentment. Kurt tried to focus on Blaines voice, memorize every name as it was presented to him, but his mind was too overcome with melancholy.

He was to be the master of a household full of servants who disliked him on sight.

Only two faces stood out from the rest, and so their names became engraved in Kurts mind.

Sebastian Smythe, keeper of the grounds, was a handsome young man with disarming green eyes. In the line of servants, he was the only one who offered Kurt a smile. His smile, which twisted at one corner and added sparkle to Sebastians eyes, might have seemed a bit suggestive, but Kurt would take it.

Matthew Rutherford, the man who had rushed forward to help Blaine from the carriage, glanced up at Kurt and offered him a look as well, but it definitely was not a smile.

"Matthew will show you up to your bedchamber," Blaine said, gesturing for the man to come forward. The young servant looked at his lord adoringly and Kurt began to understand where this mans aversion to him came from.

"Yes, my lord," Kurt said to Blaine with a bow. "Thank you."

"Freshen up," Blaine said. "Dinner will be ready within the hour."

"Yes, my lord," Kurt said, sounding in his own mind like a parrot, repeating the only sentiment he had reason to say. His feelings didnt matter, his opinion didnt matter, and Blaine didnt seem to want to talk with him anyway.

Kurt followed Matthew, with Marely trailing along behind, when Blaine spoke up again.

"The below-stairs maid can show your maid to her room," Blaine commanded.

Kurts heart seized. He looked at Marley, already being led away by a petite, plump older woman in a striped cotton gown and white linen cap – a uniform shared by the rest of the maids that Kurt could see. Marley glanced once over her shoulder, hugging her arms with empathetic dolor before disappearing out of sight into the house.

"This way, milord," Matthew said politely enough, but there was something to the way he spoke that made Kurt feel unwelcome. Kurt continued into the house, hoping for some cloak of familiarity to make his imprisonment here bearable. He climbed up stairs he had run up in his youth and held on to a bannister he had slid down a hundred times before, but now it felt alien. He thought the house would open its arms to him and welcome him back, but like everything else, it had changed. He had no idea how he was going to make this house feel like home.

Matthew ignored him, not even addressing him again until they stopped in front of an ornate wooden door.

"This is your bedchamber, milord," Matthew said, grabbing the doorknob and pushing open the door. Kurt took a step in and coughed. The room smelled like dust, as if it hadnt been aired in a decade or more. Kurt peeked in and took sight of the antique décor and the feminine furnishings, baffled.

"Is this…Lord Andersons bedchamber?" Kurt asked, putting a hand over his nose and mouth to keep from inhaling a lifetimes worth of stagnance.

"No, milord," Matthew replied with a hint of a condescending chuckle. "Lord Anderson occupies a different bedchamber. This bedchamber once belonged to the Countess Anderson."

Matthew bowed, starting back down the hallway when Kurt stepped out and stopped him.

"I am to stay in his mothers old bedchamber?" Kurt asked, remotely insulted by the placement.

"Yes, milord," Matthew answered with another bow, the corner of his mouth twisting in an ever so slight grin. "Lord Anderson felt it would suit you best."

Blaine limped up the stairs and into the house, following in the shadow of his new husbands footsteps. The usual dull ache in his leg had been exacerbated by the long carriage rides to and from Burt Hummels house, and evenings of sleeping in mediocre beds. That was behind him now; he could return to the business of managing the estate and trying to bring his brothers murderer to justice - a mission that had turned into a fools errand years ago.

Except that now he had a new husband to sort out.

Blaine had to admit, it wasnt going well.

Blaine watched Matthew escort Kurt to his new accommodations. Blaines own bedchamber, inhabited by a bachelor of his quality for too long, was ill-prepared for someone of Kurts refined elegance and delicate sensibilities. Besides, Blaine valued his privacy, as well as his time alone. He designed instead for his husband to take up residence in his mothers room, which had been enshrined since her passing years ago. With its four-poster bed draped in sheer fabric and its finely carved chest of drawers, he felt it suited Kurts more fashionable tastes.

To Kurt, the room felt dreadfully large and lonely.

The great hall echoed with the sounds of silverware working against China plates and footsteps shuffling across marble floors as servants set the long table with the start of several courses. There was plenty of clatter to make conversation unnecessary, if not impossible. Through the silences, Kurt held his breath in the hopes that Blaine would have no reason to scowl at him if he forgot Kurt was sitting across the table from him.

The manors hall was extremely large, much larger than the dining hall at home...much too large for simply the pair of them. It was meant for more fanciful feasts - for the regalia of the dinner they should be hosting to celebrate their wedding, not this tense meal.

Kurt was fine with being ignored, but over the past two days of travel to the Anderson Estate, he had hoped that being here at last would make Blaine easier - that maybe they could segue into that friendship of their youth and work their way up from there. Kurt couldnt help being confused. At his fathers house, it seemed that Blaine wanted Kurt to know how completely powerless he was to deny this match. There had to be some reason for Blaine wanting Kurt. But now that they were alone together in the home they would share, Blaine wouldnt look at him.

"Its been a while since Ive been here, my lord," Kurt piped up, not too eager to start conversation with his wayward husband, but more to dispel the oppressive tension. "Not much has change."

Blaine nodded at Kurts comment without looking up from this meal.

Kurt blew out a breath, trying to think up another innocuous comment he could make.

"The rose garden is new though, isnt it?" Kurt asked. "Was that your idea, my lord?"

"No," Blaine answered between bites.

Kurt waited for more, but Blaine seemed completely enthralled in slicing up his meat, and couldnt care less about the roses or any other flower.

Kurt was running dangerously low on polite conversation.

"I heard you had been knighted," Kurt said, trying for something more intriguing than the upkeep of the estate. He was certain that appealing to Blaines ego would do the trick, and what could he be prouder of than his knighthood? Instead, Blaine gazed up at him from the rim of his glass, downing his merlot with one gulp. The bemused semi-glare Blaine returned almost struck at Kurt, proving that he had stumbled across the wrong topic of conversation.

Though there didnt appear to be a right subject of conversation.

They sat in silence throughout the rest of the meal, each elaborate landscape of food left untouched on Kurts plate.

"Why are you not eating, husband?" Blaine asked. Kurt jumped, not prepared to be asked a question after such a lengthy stretch of silence.

"Im sorry, my lord?" Kurt replied, looking up from his plate.

"Youve barely taken a bite," Blaine continued. "Do you feel unwell? Or is the food not agreeable to you?"

"The food is excellent, my lord," Kurt said, grasping at this bit of spontaneous speech. Maybe Blaine simply didnt believe in dinner conversation. After all, he had been quiet at every meal theyd had together since theyd been reunited. "I just dont seem to have much of an appetite. It must be from the traveling."

"Hmmm, I see. In that case, you may turn in," Blaine said with a wave of his hand.

"Turn in, my lord?" Kurt returned with a questioning look.

"Yes, husband," Blaine replied, "to your bedchamber."

"My bedchamber?" Kurt continued to ask, perplexed as to why he was being dismissed the way a child would be, simply for not eating his dinner.

"Yes. Your bedchamber. Its that room where you sleep." Blaine barely looked up from his roast to Kurt. He wasnt hungry either, but he needed something else to focus his attention on. However, idly moving a single morsel of food around his plate with his fork was barely intriguing enough.

Kurt didnt want this to be the end of the evening, which struck him as funny since a couple of days ago, being given his leave to retire would have been a blessing in this same situation.

But how would Kurt inspire husbandly affection in this man if he ran and hid in his room?

"Will you not join me, my lord?"

Kurts timid voice astounded Blaine considering its intent. Blaine thought on the matter a moment, then nodded his head.

"Prepare yourself. I will join you later," Blaine answered sternly, raising his eyes to meet Kurts gaze. Much later, Blaine thought, after much bourbon.

"But..." Kurts face looked positively crestfallen as he began to realize he might actually spend this night alone. Blaine thought that considering the circumstances, Kurt wouldnt mind a postponement. It hadnt occurred to Blaine that Kurt might be looking forward to his wedding night. This match might not be what Kurt had planned, but he probably had some preconceived idea of what the wedding night would be like. No doubt he had thought the whole scene through in his mind - a luxurious room dripping in velvet curtains, lit by rows of beeswax candles, roses of every color covering every conceivable surface. Blaine chided himself for not having the forethought to provide some vestige of romance for him.

None of this was going the way Blaine had anticipated. Certainly this marriage was a necessity for him, and a marriage to Kurt had been one of convenience, but that didnt mean Blaine wasnt looking forward to it. Things would be different now if Kurts infatuation with that baker hadnt deprived Blaine of the reunion he had envisioned.

Blaines pride had been bruised, and that was a difficult thing for him to recover from.

No matter. At the moment, the tremendous discomfort settling within him blotted out any noble gesture that may have come to Blaines mind. Furthermore, he realized that he had let the silence between them go on for far too long.

"Of course," he said, forcing a smile. "We must make haste and consummate this marriage, mustnt we?" The candor of his words shocked Kurt. His face went crimson immediately, but he did not look away or cower like a silly child.

"Yes, my lord," was his simple and regretful sounding reply. Blaine dropped his napkin on the table and stood slowly. The ache in his leg would have been enough to put him off this act for at least another evening, but he was eager to get the whole situation over and done with. He took up his cane and limped slowly to the spot where Kurt stood, nearly frozen. Blaine could tell from the pulsing of the vein in Kurts neck that his heart was racing. Blaine was surprised to find that his body responded immediately to that knowledge.

He scoffed. Most likely out of fear than arousal must have been his response. Blaine looked Kurt in the eyes and saw his fear, but he saw something else, too. Determination, and a fierce one at that.

What did Blaine know? It might be fun to go head to head with Kurt Hummel.

Correction – Kurt Hummel Anderson.

Blaine would definitely need another drink.

"Go on ahead," Blaine said, gesturing toward the staircase with his hand. "Ill be along in a minute."

Blaine was still capable of walking relatively straight as he made his way up to Kurts bedchamber, which was an exceedingly bad sign. It meant that Blaine wasnt as inebriated as he wanted to be when he faced Kurt. Blaine knew he was being selfish taking Kurt like this, but in his heart he knew this whole marriage was wrong. Kurt deserved better. He deserved to be wooed properly, but Blaine had spent so much of his time being a self-centered prick that he had forgotten how. The subtle intricacies of carefully orchestrated seduction had been lost to him seven or so whores ago.

Besides, when it came down to it, the crux of everything in his life was that he simply didnt have the time.

He had gone from family disgrace to earl in such a short amount of time, with people wondering how on earth he got to be earl at all with his noble brother standing in his way. Being wed was one of the only ways he could think of to be taken seriously, to silence the wagging tongues that questioned his abilities to govern his title.

He needed to prove that he could commit to something in his life other than wild goose chases and whiskey.

Kurt was the key to that.

Stumbling up the stairs, Blaine questioned why he even assumed that Kurt still had his virtue. After all, he was a young man, and devastatingly handsome at that. It was only women expected to remain chaste and pure, so to speak. Kurt had already had one suitor. Adam. There must have been others, unless the world had suddenly gone both blind and dumb while Blaine had avoided the first circles of society. That knowledge didnt make Blaine feel any better, especially since the idea of that soft, overly-apologetic peasant having his Kurt filled him with vile, irrational anger.

Blaine swayed before his husbands bedchamber door, reaching to grab hold of the knob which kept eluding his grasp.

"Shit," he said, reaching for the blurry bastard and catching only air. "Shit…hold still you…fuck…"

He managed to grab hold of the blasted thing and twist it, but it would not budge.

"Come on…" he mumbled. "You Godforsaken piece of…"

The knob twisted in his hands and the door swung open, pulling Blaine along.

"Whoa," he said, falling forward into his mothers bedroom and right into the arms of a beautifully morose young man.

Blaine stood upright, his smile a little more lopsided than he had counted on, but confident that it should still do the trick. Blaine looked at Kurt, dressed in the same suit he had on at dinner, and frowned.

"Darling," he said, closing the door behind him, "when I asked you to prepare yourself, I had hoped you would be naked. Or at least dressed in that scrumptious suit from our wedding day. I have never bedded a man wearing wedding white."

Kurt backed away toward the bed, his knees hitting the mattress the exact same time that his heart stopped. Kurt couldnt help thinking of what Marley had said about Blaine being exceptionally well-versed in the way of physical affection (which was how she so delicately put it).

"Why so pale all of a sudden, husband?" Blaine asked, fumbling with his coat, getting his arm stuck at the elbows.

"Its nothing, my lord," Kurt said, watching Blaine as he struggled to be free of his clothes. "Only that Ive heard…rumors."

"Oh," Blaine chuckled, tugging at his coat until one of the blind seams in the lining ripped. "Undoubtedly, theyre probably all true."

Kurt nodded, watching Blaine practically rip the coat off his body and fling it to the floor.

Kurt was nervous enough about the prospect of sex with Lord Anderson. When he had asked Blaine abed, he had been hoping to salvage the evening and thought this might be a good place to start. But the fact that Blaine had to drink himself into a stupor in order to be with him made Kurt want to disappear into the floorboards.

"Have there been…many, my lord?" Kurt asked, wanting to know the truth right from the source, certain that any answer Blaine gave couldnt make the evening worse.

"Many what?" Blaine asked, starting on his pants.

"Lovers, my lord," Kurt clarified, watching Blaine stumble over his laces.

"Oh," Blaine snorted. "Some…a lot…but who remembers names and faces."

"Oh," Kurt said, looking away. Blaine saw the disheartened look on Kurts face and groaned.

"Dont behave like that. Youre not a child," Blaine snapped. "What about you and your besotted baker?"

Kurt forced himself to look at his husband.

"We never…I havent…"

Blaine rolled his eyes and cursed when he had no luck with his laces, his pants staying firmly in place.

"Have you known any men?" Blaine asked gruffly, impatient to get things underway.

"No, my lord," Kurt said with a hint of pride in his terrified voice. "I have not."

Kurts answer gave rise to a whole different set of emotions inside Blaine.

A virgin. Kurt was a virgin. Blaine didnt know if he wanted to laugh or cry.

He attacked Kurts clothes with gusto, fueled by that knowledge.

"Come on, husband," Blaine slurred, working at the buttons with clumsy fingers, "Ive at least gotten one item of clothing off. You havent even gotten started."

Blaine tore open Kurt`s waistcoat, popping a few buttons along the way, causing Kurt to flinch. A slight movement, like the flutter of a butterfly`s wing, caught Blaines eye. Kurt remembered when he saw the blur of purple reflected in Blaines eyes. Adams present. Kurt had forgotten that it was in his pocket. Kurt went to rescue it, but Blaine grabbed his wrist with one hand and plucked the sprig of lavender from Kurts inside pocket with the other. Blaine held it between his fingers and twirled it around, the sight of it vexing him deeply, filling him with rage and humiliation.

"What is this little thing?" he barked around a laugh. Kurt stared as Blaine toyed with it, inches from his face. "A nosegay? No, not this. Tokens from other lovers? Well, we`ll have no more of that!"

Blaine tossed the thing over his shoulder. Kurts stricken gaze followed it as it fluttered to the floor. Blaine wrapped an arm around Kurts waist and pulled him close, feeling Kurt tremble against him.

"See, we cant have that, Kurt, because youre mine now," Blaine said, running his nose up the length of Kurts neck, placing gentle kisses along his skin. "Youre my husband…my husband…and youre supposed to want me. Nobody else."

Blaine heard Kurt sniffle, and looked up at his husband, annoyed with Kurt for whimpering.

But what he saw in Kurts face was worse.

Resignation – teeth clenched, eyes pointed to the ceiling, a single tear rolling down his cheek, praying for this to be over.

Blaine had made many a virgin wither beneath his touch, but not like this – not out of fear. If Kurt could just give him one small smile, like the ones he gave so freely to the Crawford boy, Blaine would have been different. But no matter how sweet Blaine tried to make his kisses, Kurt only stared at Blaine as if he were a monster.

In retrospect, getting drunk first was a horrid place to start.

Blaine had never had to force himself on anyone in his life, and he wasnt about to start with his husband.

His husband.

Blaine looked at Kurt – his husband Kurt – no more than a boy really, frightened, upset, his soul aching to be with someone else.

Blaine couldnt do this to him.

Not tonight.

Blaine released Kurt and stepped away. He looked around the floor to locate the discarded nosegay. It had been trampled slightly underfoot, but looked unharmed. He bent awkwardly at the waist to pick it up.

"Here," Blaine said, placing it gently in Kurt`s palm and closing his fingers carefully around it. "I`ll…Ill let you keep your happiness a little bit longer."

Kurt held the flowers in his shaking hand, cradling them over his heart, as he watched Blaine take up his ruined coat and hobble out the door.