The Bachelor's Valet (Flos Magicae #1)

by Arden Powell

Why, you don't get through university without having tried a thing or two. You put a bunch of bright young men together in such an environment, it's only natural to experiment some, but it's not the sort of thing to be carried into adulthood." "Might I infer that your experiences were thus contained entirely to your school days, sir?" "Well, there may have been an incident or two—or three, rather, or perhaps a handful more, but who's really counting—in the clubs, you know. After a few drinks with the lads, things can get— But it's nothing serious.

There might have been an incident or two... or three or perhaps more, what of it? 😂

"Your noble spirit is far too great to be confined to a life of this drudgery, and you can't tell me otherwise." "You're veering into melodrama, sir. I'll fetch you a tea."

"I can dress myself," Alphonse repeated. The grey suit looked at him with judgment winking from its shiny buttons. He rolled onto his side to play with the pocket square laid atop the lapel. "I don't want to marry the girl," he told it despondently. "I don't want to marry any girl! What do you think, old chap? Could we survive on our own, sans estate? I could sell you for a few pounds, I should think." The suit, which was a fine wool and silk blend befitting the autumnal chill, and had never seen him do a day's work in his life, seemed doubtful.

“Excuse me, but I am very much a master of my own destiny, Jacobi!” “Yes, sir.” “The captain of my own soul!” “Indubitably, sir.” Alphonse huffed. “Good. Now, what am I supposed to wear to this thing?” Jacobi’s mouth tilted upwards. “Allow me to peruse your wardrobe and make a selection.”

"No need to bother with the nursing or the shroud, thank you, Jacobi, for I feel like I've already died. I'm in shambles. A mere corpse." To prove his point, he flopped sideways over the chaise, head lolling and arms limp, one trailing to the floor. "I see. Are you sure a small sandwich wouldn't make you feel better, sir?" Alphonse paused in his death throes. "It might. What kind have you got?"

"Best tamp down on that whole mess, old boy," he told himself fuzzily. "He deserves far better than being pawed at by some fawning idiot of a young master, what?"

"Although, it must be noted that my first and only love wasn't as unrequited as I had thought, which I find very gratifying." Alphonse startled. "Wait, what? Who's that, then?" Jacobi looked at him steadily, their hands still clasped between them, until Alphonse figured it out. "Oh! Really? Why, I had no idea!" "I know," Jacobi said placidly. "You weren't meant to."