**Part 2

The Dugrey residence had the atmosphere of an old museum. Cold, vast and eerily quiet it gave off just the right message, you're not welcome. Indeed the only sounds heard by no one in particular at the moment were the soft footfalls of finely polished Italian loafers on short-shagged carpeting. James, more at home in the grounds of the expansive compound than in his own house made his way confidently though the giant walkways to the study where he was sure to find his target. Sure enough in the darkened room amidst books ten times his age, slumped on a leather chair like a gluttonous king on his throne he found the young man he had all but raised.

"Mr. Tristan" The butler said confidently as he walked over to the young man, The smell of eighteen year old scotch lingered in the air, a half empty crystal decanter rested by the young man's side.

"Good morning James."

James had to give the boy credit, only a Dugray would have the finesse to make such a large notch on the bottle of the very expensive scotch and not even have a slur to his voice, on an empty stomach no less.

"It is hardly morning Tristan, it will be eleven soon, the rest of the house has been up and busy for hours, lunch is being prepared."

Tristan nodded slowly, methodically, as if the thoughts in his head needed some time to sort themselves out.

"Do you have any kids James?" Tristan asked slowly, deliberately.

"Yes sir," said the butler patiently, "I have a son, Morigan the second, after his grandfather. You bought him a two thousand dollar watch for his twelfth birthday last month."

Tristan remembered, and awkwardly looked up,

"Too much?"

"A bicycle would have been more appropriate sir" said the butler slightly amused, Tristan's personality showed through the mask of alcohol sobriety.

"Sorry… Tag is in this season," he said holding up his own five thousand dollar version, "I just assumed… I'll make it up to him."

"No need, he already idolizes the ground you walk on, though I can't figure out why."

"Talk about me much do you?" Tristan said breaking out his signature smirk.

"It is hard not to."

"Where is he now?" Tristan asked raising an eyebrow.

"In the Harrow County School for Boys, a fine institution" The old friend said proudly.

"Do you miss him?" Tristan asked with a softer voice.

"More than I care to admit to."

"When do you see him again?" Tristan shifted in his chair to give James his full attention.

"Not until January I'm afraid," the grown man replied suddenly understanding the reasons behind Tristan's distressing self seclusion, "you father is having him flown here to spend a month with me before flying him back to his mother."

"Of course," Tristan said bitterly, "can't spend the time or money to see his own son but he'll fly yours halfway across the country. Tell me James, would you have sent your son away like I was if he had done something similar?"

It bothered James to see Tristan this way, he had raised the boy, he fed him as a child, cleaned his cuts and scrapes when he fell, and put him to sleep at nights reading to him from the Iliad as was done to Alexander the Great. Seeing that he was not his father however, he had to respect the boundaries that were imposed on him, and this bothered him now more than ever before.

"Hard to say Tristan"

"Try" The young man pressed looking at his old friend in the eye.

"Were you my son, Mr. Tristan," the butler said putting emphasis on the word Mr. for Tristan's sake, "I do not believe I would have."

"No?" Tristan asked with a half smile.

"No, were you my son I would have skinned you half alive for pulling off a stunt like that." the butler said firmly, forgetting boundaries for just a second. Tristan winced but smiled approvingly none-the-less.

"I was surprised that you didn't."

"If your father had not been in the room with us, I probably would have."

"I know." Tristan nodded thinking back on that night.

"So how much more moping are you planning on doing? You only have a couple of days here. I'm sure there are places you'd rather be than here in your father's office"

"Where would I go James?" Tristan said, his eyes shining revealing their age for the first time since he'd arrived two nights ago.

"Aren't you at all curious about her?" James said slowly putting emphasis on just the right words.

"Who?" Tristan tested his friend, the eighteen year old scotch swirled in his head.

"The one girl you've been pining over from before your sudden departure. I hear she is doing quite well."

"You kept tabs on her for me?"

"Contrary to popular belief, my world does not revolve around you Mr. Dugray!" James exclaimed in mock insult stepping back, "As insignificant as it may be, I too have a life!"

Tristan looked at his friend to finish the rest of his sentence. James did not disappoint,

"I had someone else check on her from time to time."

"You know, my father would be furious to learn of Dugray funds being used this way." Tristan said with a proud smile, "Come, tell me all about it!"

"All in due time Tristan; for now, let me just find a suitable home for this," James reached over grabbing the crystal decanter, "while Adrianne brings you a spot of coffee."

"James." Tristan called out standing up. The room spun.

"Yes sir?" The butler held his breath, he was so proud of the young man it took incredible restraint to not go to him and hug him. Tristan was sorely missed in the house.

"I don't think I said it when I arrived… It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too Tristan, welcome home. I'll send Adrianne here promptly," the butler turned to the door and took two steps before hearing a loud crash behind him. He turned in time to see Tristan sprawled on the floor having missed the chair by a significant amount, "Oh boy… I think that will be two spots of coffee to say the least." He said shaking his head while trying to trying to hide the smile forming on his face.

Tristan got up only mildly embarrassed, James had seen him through much worse. He straightened out his shirt and pants before sitting down on the leather chair again turning it to look out the giant window behind the desk. The sky was a solid blue with no signs of clouds to be seen. As he got lost in his thoughts he willed himself not to think of her. He hadn't said her name out loud in months and would keep it that way if possible. As if hearing her name spoken would bring back a reality that he wasn't ready to deal with yet. He tried to think up the name of a girl he had met in a shady looking joint by the school but he couldn't. He remembered the way she had stuffed her tongue halfway down his throat before writing down her phone number on his forearm in eyeliner. When he got home he scrubbed the number off his skin and went to bed angry with himself. Why could he not stop thinking about her?

"Um… Mr. Tristan?" a soft feminine voice behind him. Adrianne, one of the many young ladies brought in at his father's directions. She had easily spent more time with his father in her first thirty days of employment than he had his entire life. As Adrianne leaned over to pour coffee on a finely sculpted china cup, Tristan curiously ran his hand up the back of her thigh, underneath her skirt, finally resting on her ass. Though she stiffened at the intrusion, Adrianne was neither surprised nor realistically offended; Tristan was his father's son after all.

"You're wearing underwear Adrianne, not expecting my father anytime soon?"

"No," Adrianne answered stiffly yet professionally, not meeting his gaze, "Mr. Dugray is away on business, he is not expected back for a couple of more weeks."

"Of course" Tristan patted her ass before dropping his hand on the desk in front of him. He picked up the cup and took a sip of the hot bitter coffee wincing as the hot liquid traveled down his raw throat. How did Rory drink this stuff?

Rory.

So much for not thinking about her.

"Adrianne," Tristan said looking at the very attractive maid, his father really did have good taste, "I'd like to go for a drive."