There was a storm coming – a fall rain. Blaine could feel it in his joints and in his muscles. The wind blew right through him as the coat he was wearing wasn't fit for this changing weather. But that hadn't been his concern when he raced out to meet Kurt and Sebastian, when he jumped to conclusions, when he got it in his head that this man in his employ who had never once wronged him was out to steal his husband. Blaine rushed up the path from the garden with stiff, stunted steps, ignoring the pain in his hip as he headed for the front of the house. By the time he reached the walk, he could barely hold his back up straight, but he managed to seize hold of Sebastian's horse just as he was preparing to depart. Sebastian turned his palomino, walking it down the path, but a weary Blaine came up alongside him and grabbed ahold of the animal's bridle.

“Whoa!” Sebastian called to his horse when it whinnied and shook its head. “Hold still.” Sebastian secured the reins of the skittish horse and brought it to a controlled stop. His horse had always been a temperamental beast. He didn't want the animal taking off, dragging Lord Anderson down the path behind it. “Milord!” Sebastian said, shocked at seeing the man hanging off his horse's bridle. Sebastian leapt off his horse's back to help the earl before he collapsed to the ground.

Blaine accepted Sebastian's help, but begrudgingly, trying to secure his own footing and frowning when he found he couldn't stand whatsoever without help.

“Mr. Smythe,” Blaine panted, breathless from the walk and the confrontation with the palomino. Blaine did everything to avoid eye contact with the man who looked at him curiously, “it seems that I may have been…hasty…in demanding that you go.”

Now was not the time for snarky smiles or snide comments, but it was a part of Sebastian's nature, and he just couldn't seem to help himself.

“Were you now, milord?” he asked, supporting the earl with an arm thrown across his shoulders.

“Yes,” Blaine said, his voice overly firm as he did not enjoy being made to look foolish by this young man. “I have changed my mind, and request that you stay. I offer you my deepest regrets for my error.”

Sebastian had half a mind to torment the cross man, but he knew that would most likely get him terminated again, and for sound reason this time. As he liked his job, he decided to be civil instead.

“I appreciate the apology, milord,” Sebastian said. “I would be more than happy to return to my position as groundskeeper, if that pleases you.”

“It does indeed,” Blaine said, taking hesitant steps with Sebastian's help, “but first, I desire a meeting with you in my office, as I need to have a discussion with you.”

“Would you like me to put you on my horse, milord, and walk you back to the manor?” Sebastian offered, biting back a laugh at the image of hoisting the earl on the back of his palomino and leading him along like a child on a pony.

“I think I can manage, Mr. Smythe, quite well on my own,” Blaine said, standing bolt upright and limping away, knowing when he's being teased. “Why don't you stable your animal and meet me when you're done.”

“Very well, milord,” Sebastian said, taking his horse's reins and walking the animal away.

In their own way, at their own time, both men searched the garden for Kurt, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Blaine was standing at the window, staring out in search of Kurt, when Sebastian finally returned to the house.

“Sit down,” Blaine said when he heard Sebastian's heavy footsteps enter his office, “and please, close the door.”

Sebastian did as he was told, shutting the door with a soft click and sitting in front of his master's desk.

Blaine turned from the window and took his own seat, staring at Sebastian suspiciously. He had stopped him for leaving for Kurt's sake, to keep his husband happy. Blaine was quite proud, but he was also willing to admit his mistakes when he made them. He had made a mistake in firing Sebastian; he saw that now.

But Blaine wasn't quite convinced of Sebastian's motives. Sebastian had never done anything to deceive Blaine before. The man was quiet, efficient, hardworking - all of these traits that Blaine held in high regard - but it may have just been that Blaine didn't have anything that Sebastian wanted prior to Kurt moving in to the manor.

And who in the world wouldn't want Kurt?

“What are you playing at, Mr. Smythe?” Blaine asked, folding his hands on his desk and moving his chair in closer.

“Playing at, milord?” Sebastian asked.

“I see you every day, talking with my husband,” Blaine began. “He has you in his confidence. He's probably even told you things he has yet to reveal to me.”

Sebastian didn't answer, keeping his expression neutral, only nodding a few times.

“I notice how you occupy so much of his time,” Blaine continued, pausing to give Sebastian an opportunity to explain himself, but he didn't. “Tell me, what are your intentions toward him?”

“Intentions, milord?” Sebastian asked with a quirk of his lips. “I have no other intention but to be his friend. Lord knows he needs one.”

Blaine's hackles rose at what he saw as an insolent response. He folded his hands tighter to remind himself to keep his temper.

“And what do the two of you do together…as friends?” Blaine asked, raising his eyebrows.

“We talk, milord,” Sebastian said with a smirk.

“Really?” Blaine said in a flat voice, his face sour. “And what is it that you talk about? That simpering fool that he adores so much?”

Sebastian's smirk grew wide on his face.

“For once, you have hit the target right on the bull's eye, milord,” Sebastian said.

“Really?” Blaine said, becoming more angry.

“Yes, milord, you have, since all he ever talks about is you.”

“I…excuse me?” Blaine jerked back, cut off from his rant by Sebastian's remark.

“Yes, milord,” Sebastian said.

“What do you mean, he talks about me?” Blaine asked, sure he must be mistaken.

“I have no desire to break a confidence with your husband, milord…” Sebastian started.

“Yes, but he is my husband,” Blaine interrupted, “and this is my house, and the care of everyone in it is my responsibility.”

Sebastian simply looked at Blaine with a challenging eyebrow raised.

Blaine blew out a breath of frustration, wondering if changing his mind about firing Sebastian was an intelligent idea.

“Let's say hypothetically,” Blaine said, searching for a loophole to get Sebastian to talk, “my husband is unhappy, and I would very much like that to change. What do you recommend I do?”

Sebastian thought Lord Anderson's question over carefully, trying to find the best way to answer him.

“Let us say that he is unhappy, for argument's sake, milord,” Sebastian said. “Can you possibly imagine why that might be?”

“He told me that he is nothing here,” Blaine mentioned. “He told me that the servants do not respect him. He said they do not respect him because I do not respect him.”

“And what did you tell him, if you don't mind my asking, milord?”

“I told him that he was a Count now, and to start acting like one.”

Sebastian chuckled dryly, dropping his head to stare down at the floor.

“You and your husband need to sit down and talk to one another, milord,” Sebastian said with a shake of his head. “You tell him to be a Count. But has he ever been a Count, milord? Who will teach him to behave the way you want him to behave? He would do whatever you asked, be whoever you wanted, if he thought it would make you…”

Sebastian closed his teeth around his tongue to stop himself from saying too much.

“If he thought it would make me…what?” Blaine asked.

Sebastian stared pointedly into Blaine's hazel eyes.

“I think that you might know the answer already, milord,” Sebastian said, not intentionally being vague, but feeling dangerously close to revealing one too many secrets.

“He needs to be but himself,” Blaine said in exasperation, “nothing more than that.”

“That's great, but have you told him that, milord?” Sebastian sat back in his seat. “What do you know about your husband, Lord Anderson?”

“I know quite a bit,” Blaine said, sounding defensive.

“And yet he is unhappy, milord.”

“What do you suggest?” Blaine asked with a shrug.

“He's lonely, milord,” Sebastian said. “He misses his life, his passions.”

“What passions?”

“Fashion, for one, milord. It's a hard thing to appreciate out here in the middle of the country. So, take him out on the town. Maybe buy him some new clothes.”

“I don't want to buy my husband,” Blaine protested.

“You are not buying him,” Sebastian said, rolling his eyes. “Show him that you share his interests. It seems that he makes a great deal of his clothes anyway.”

“Does he?” Blaine said, impressed. “I knew he liked to sew, but…”

Blaine's words faded as he remembered Kurt with his mother's sewing kit, fixing Rachel's doll, reattaching arms and replacing buttons eyes.

“You might also take him to see his friends and his family again, milord,” Sebastian added. “He feels trapped out here. Don't treat him like your prisoner.”

“So, you think I should take him to London?” Blaine deduced.

“I think he would enjoy a break from all this quiet and solitude, milord.”

“But…but he lives there.” Blaine dropped his head in his hands, ready to pull his hair out by the roots. “That baker. What do I do about him?”

Sebastian shrugged.

“There might be a small torch in the Counts heart still burning for that other man,” Sebastian said.

Blaine raised his brow, wondering how much about it Sebastian knew, how much wasnt Kurt telling him.

“What should I do?”

“Ignoring him and being grumpy obviously isn't doing the trick, milord,” Sebastian said, unable to resist the jab. “So try treating him like a prince. Woo him. Make him fall in love with you…” Sebastian leaned forward in his seat with a wicked glimmer in his moss green eyes, “and snuff out that small torch in his heart once…and…for… all.”

Blaine nodded his head, taking to heart everything that Sebastian had said. Blaine stared at his folded hands, calculating in his head, but Sebastian looked past him, out of the window, to where Matthew had stopped a crying Kurt and said something that made the man cry all the harder.

“Oh, and one other thing,” Sebastian said, standing and walking to the window, his fists balled as he watched Kurt dissolve into tears, “if you don't mind me saying, milord.”

“Yes, what is it?” Blaine muttered, lost in thought.

“That sniveling manservant you keep in the house, milord? Matthew?”

“Yes, he's an indentured man,” Blaine said offhandedly. “What of him?”

“If you want to keep your husband happy, I suggest that you pay off his indenture and remove him from the estate immediately,” Sebastian recommended, his tone uncharacteristically serious.

Blaine's eyes snapped up from his hands.

“Why?” Blaine asked, standing to join Sebastian at the window. “What has he done?”

“Milord!” Marley called through the upper level of the house, trying to find her master. “Milord!” She knocked at his bedchamber, but when she got no reply, she raced into his parlor, where she found Kurt sniffling, engaged with a paper and quill pen, writing a letter to Rachel. “Milord!”

“Marley!” Kurt said, standing from his desk when he saw the frantic girl. “Marley! Wha---whatever is the matter?”

“It's Lord Anderson,” she said, catching her breath.

“What of him?” Kurt asked, grabbing Marley by the arms. Last Kurt saw of his husband, he was just about fit to fall over. “What has happened? Is he alright?”

“Come to the window, milord,” Marley said with a giggle. “You have to see.”

Outside the house, the servants had gathered, rushing to the aid of their master, Kurt thought. He knew it. He had fallen in the path, he had broken his one good leg, he had hit his head and knocked something loose.

Kurt leaned out the window further when he heard his husband's voice yelling, followed by the sound of rocks flying through the air and hitting something hard.

“You slanderous little troll!” Blaine screamed at full voice. Then Kurt heard a squeal of pain as a flying stone made contact with someone's person. “If I had it in me, I would skin you alive and hang you from a tree!” Another rock went flying and its intended target stumbled into view. Matthew, his lip split and his nose already bloody – slipped and fell onto the manor steps.

“What?” Kurt gasped, watching his husband limp forward with an armful of stones, balancing against his cane, stopping long enough to take a stone from the crook of his arm, aim and fire. “We have to get downstairs, Marley! Quickly!” he said, pushing the girl out of the way, racing down the long staircase, and bolting outside.

“How dare you make such claims about a relationship that has no bearing!” Blaine screamed. “How dare you almost cost me my husband! I could have you imprisoned! I should have you imprisoned! I should have you sent to the Americas!”

“But, milord…” Matthew started, receiving another stone to the forehead.

“I want you gone!” Blaine roared, dropping what was left of his stones and raising his cane. “I want you away from my property, away from my house, and away from my husband, you lying rat!”

Matthew stood on the steps, refusing to move, stunned into a stupor by the blow to his head, a thin cut oozing blood down his brow into his eye.

Blaine lifted his cane and tossed it like a spear. Maids screamed and ran out of the way with their arms raised above their heads. It sang as it sliced through the air, missing its intended target by only an inch.

“I said go!” Blaine bellowed. Matthew turned tail and ran down the road that led to the entrance. Blaine watched him till he was a speck against the green, running for all he was worth.

Blaine looked at the servants gathered, his eyes blazing with anger, burning them all with his glare.

“Now listen here,” Blaine announced, turning to see Kurt hurry from the house and come to a stop only a few feet away. “The Count is my husband,” he said, pointing at Kurt. “He is lord of the manor, same as I. You will all follow his commands and tend to his wishes as if they were mine, whether I am present or not, or so help me…” He swept his eyes around the array of aghast faces, waving his fist in the air. “I don't care how long you have been in my family's service. You will be dismissed in the same manner as Mr. Rutherford. Is that understood?”

The servants stared, nodding reservedly, and Kurt could tell by the looks in their eyes that they had never seen their master act out this way – wild and unrestrained. It was definitely in direct contrast to the man who had so carefully contrived the conditions of their marriage.

To Kurt, it was rather exciting to watch. Suddenly, every finger print that Blaine had left upon his skin, every touch of his lips on Kurt's body, ignited all at once, and Kurt shivered despite the cold.

“Go fetch his cane,” Kurt said to Marley, sending her in search of the walking stick that had been sent flying.

Blaine turned to Kurt and tried to take a step, but Kurt put a hand up and ran toward him.

“My lord, are you quite all right?” Kurt asked.

Blaine looked at Kurt – at his face full of concern, at his eyes ringed red, at his lips tremulously trying to form a smile.

“I am well,” Blaine said, recapturing his sense of calm. “Thank you.” Marley ran up to them and offered Blaine his cane, dropping into a quick curtsy and standing back to give the two men their privacy. “And you, husband? How are you?”

Kurt turned to look in the direction Matthew had been run off, the man completely gone from sight.

“Better,” Kurt said with a relieved smile. “Much better, my lord.”

“Good,” Blaine said, nodding, setting his cane on the floor and leaning against it. “Splendid. I say, will you do me the honor of dining with me tonight?” Blaine asked.

Kurt furrowed his brow.

“I dine with you every night, my lord,” Kurt reminded him.

“Yes, I know,” Blaine replied, “but I will need your attention tonight to discuss a very important matter.”

“What important matter, my lord?”

“I need your input on a trip we will be taking,” Blaine said, offering Kurt his arm and smiling when Kurt took it. “We are going to London.”