The Bachelor's Valet (Flos Magicae #1)

by Arden Powell

Then again, having never explored the safari nor met either of the beasts in question, Alphonse may be accused of anthropomorphising the poor creatures. Perhaps hyenas were jolly good companions that would never shame a man for his lack of sexual expertise. He couldn't really say.

Nothing bad ever happened in it, in contrast to his usual dreams, which were often filled with nonsense capers or flashbacks to his university exams. He had one recurring dream about trying to drive his car through a flooded London street as the cab slowly filled with upset fish, and he could say with confidence that he preferred the cottage.

"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. Alphonse shook his head and pushed himself upright, shedding the morning's casual clothes. "No, perhaps not, eh?"

He cleared his throat. “Hang on, though: what do you mean, someone like me?” “Someone of your persuasion. Or rather, our persuasion.” “Er?" "You and Jacobi." He waited expectantly for her to follow that up with something else. Instead, she merely looked at him like he was meant to have followed along. People often gave him such looks early in their acquaintance, until they figured out that he rarely followed anything but the simplest and most straightforward track. "You do like men, don't you?" "Oh, yes! I've only recently learned that was an option, but apparently yes, I do. Jacobi was the one who told me so, in fact. But what else has he got to do with this?" She stared at him. He blinked back at her. "Well, perhaps we'll revisit this conversation at a future date," she finally said.

"You look good," he managed. "I mean, you look well." "Thank you." She glanced at him sideways, an amused slant to her mouth. "Is it the trousers throwing you off?" "Somewhat," he confessed. "But you did say you wanted to be treated as one of the lads, so I shouldn't be too surprised. You make an awfully good-looking chap, is all. Rather caught me off guard." Reaching over, she gave him a firm pat on the knee. "Don't fret, Alphonse. You're not attracted to me. It's just the suit." "Oh, thank god. I was worried I was going to make things terribly awkward."

"Well," said Alphonse quietly, unable to meet her eye, "it's a shame I only fall for the vapid, self-absorbed ones then, isn't it?" Aaliyah made a frustrated growl and took him roughly by the arm, startling him into looking up. "And how do you figure Jacobi fits into that, then? Is he vapid and self-absorbed?" "What? Of course not! He's the epitome of the human race, as far as I'm concerned. The absolute pinnacle." "And if you'd met him when you were back in school, before you ever met Featherstrop?" she pressed. "What would a schoolboy need with a valet?" Alphonse asked, baffled. Aaliyah made a sound of disarticulate rage, rather like a smothered groan, and released him.

While Aaliyah's mare was all tossing mane, blowing nostrils and restless hooves, seemingly keen to go tearing off after the hounds just as soon as Aaliyah gave the word, Lady was content to amble along at the rear of the pack, enjoying the scenery. Alphonse appreciated that in a horse.

"Quite confidential," Aaliyah said firmly. "Alphonse, please. Whatever you want to tell me, I have no intention of judging you for it." She paused. "Well, I might judge you, but no more than I judge you for anything else."

Aaliyah was staring at him. He'd rambled on too long. Before he could change the subject to something lighter, she said, "Do you really not know why he stays?" He opened his mouth. Nothing came out, so he shut it again. "Oh, for—" She shook her head. "Alphonse. Alphonse." "What?" "Thank god you're pretty." "People often tell me that."

His dreams of Jacobi were quiet, and sweet, and filled with such simple contentment that when he woke, he was filled with awful longing, even though Jacobi was right there with him, day after day. "I say," he said softly. "Aaliyah. Do you think I'm in love with Jacobi?" "I think there's a distinct possibility, yes." "I say," he repeated. His head felt hollowed out and his brain replaced with wool, so baffled was he by this realisation. It made perfect sense, of course, but what on earth was he meant to do about it? He couldn't very well take the problem of his newfound love to Jacobi, his main problem-solver, for that would only introduce a whole new set of obstacles. "Dash it all," he said faintly. "I think you're right, but I'm not nearly well enough equipped to deal with it."

His body first went very heavy—hence the draping—and then incredibly light, so light he could have been floating, and with his body went his brain. His mind wandered off, as airy as a cloud drifting through the perfect blue of the sky, and though he grabbed for it, it slipped between his fingers with a cheerful wave. Well, he was used to getting by without much brain. Perhaps he wouldn't miss the last of it. "This is fine," he said aloud, and slithered sideways out of the saddle, grasping ineffectively at Lady's mane as he dropped, seemingly in slow motion, to the ground.

"I'm dying, you see," Alphonse blurted, "so it seems a waste of good food." Aaliyah delicately covered her mouth with one hand. Jacobi lifted one eyebrow, and the sardonic judgement was as evident as if he had voiced it aloud. "Dying, sir." "Yes. I've broken every bone in my body, and I shall have to be entombed in this very chaise. I'm never to move again." "I don't think that's true, sir." "Tell him, Aaliyah! Aren't I dying?" "He does seem considerably moribund. Might I suggest wrapping him up in a comfortable shroud and taking him home, where he might pass in peace?" "Ma'am," Jacobi said, with the mildest reproach.

"Rather intimate, what?" he couldn't help but add, and then, mortified, went limp and noodled straight down out of Jacobi's arms to puddle onto the floor. "This is ridiculous," Aaliyah announced. "Thank you for the outing, Alphonse, but I'm going to leave now. I'll get a ride back into the city from someone else, and call round tomorrow to see that you've survived." "Aaliyah?" Alphonse called mournfully from Jacobi's ankles. "Aaliyah, I think I'm in trouble." "You are a bit, and I'm sorry for it, but I'm sure it'll all work out. Bye for now." "Toodles," he said sadly, watching her boots go marching from the room.