The Baron of Stiles wasn't by nature an idle man. From a young age he struggled with remaining still, his mind always working further ahead than his body – engaging his mouth before his mind. In his studies that constant push to know more, see more and do more had been a great advantage – his teachers and tutors willing to adjust their methods of learning found in him a student worth their efforts. In his social life, it had led to a great many issues, namely, his idiotic disregard for his social standing.

He had told the Duke of Hale that he was… unnatural… in his tastes. The man, who didn't know a thing about him, now knew enough to ruin Stiles completely, his working reputation, his family name… everything. To say he was in a panic would be to underestimate the situation greatly.

"What if he tells the Royal Society of Natural Science?" He rushed, pacing back and forth. Duke Lahey was carefully tying his cravat into the intricate 'mathematical' style and had already ruined three attempts, long strips of cloth thrown to one side.

"I don't see why he should." Lahey murmured, long fingers deftly folding and tying, eyes fixed on the looking glass. "He has no reason to do so."

"He obviously holds me in enough disdain to attack me on a piece of idle gossip!" Stiles snapped, running his fingers through his hair. He kept it shorter than fashion dictated, simply due to his habit of ruining the style with his fingers in such a manner.

"I find it difficult to think why he would do such a thing." The curly headed Duke replied, folding his cravat again. "He did inform you of his distaste for fortune hunters. Although," He added, "Marrying Erica would be a capitol idea if you require funds, you know."

"I'm not going to marry your sister, Isaac." Stiles laughed, dryly. "I am most assuredly not that desperately out of pocket."

Lahey turned and gave him a steady look, one that spoke a great deal. "You will have to marry at some point, Stiles." He pointed out. "And I could think of no other whom I would call a brother with more fondness."

"I think your sister deserves better than a sham marriage."

"I think my sister believes that no one in this household is aware of her infatuation with the Moor." He replied. "And if you think I'm about to let a free-slave from the Americas near my sister-"

Stiles waved his hand over his friends impassioned speech. This too, he had heard before. "You know as well as I that your sister would not marry me."

"I could make her."

"I would not marry her if you did." He grinned. "And shame on you for thinking in such a way. We are living in the modern age, my friend. We are past the times of barbarian kings and forced unions."

"Perhaps you might think so, but I am in a situation where every mother in London thinks me half engaged to their insipid offspring." He sighed, long fingers adjusting the crisp white cloth at his neck. "I cannot leave the house but I am besieged by overbearing mamma's and mindless, simpering ladies."

"You should not be so rich, nor so handsome." Stiles grinned. "They think you ideal."

"They think me an idiot to trap me into marrying."

"That they do." Stiles agreed good naturedly. "You were never a scholar."

"I should call you out on that." Lahey said sternly, but his tone was hampered by the good natured smile never far from his lips. "Shoot you at dawn."

"In the park?"

"In the park, of course. Where else would shoot you? In the house?"

"One can never tell. Then of course, you would be the dangerous Duke Lahey." He laughed. "And would be forever assaulted by unmarried women asking you to fight for their hands."

Isaac shuddered dramatically. "Do not say such things before I have eaten, you should quite ruin my appetite."

As the days went on, Stiles became aware that Duke Hale had not, in fact, told London of his personal tastes. His small meeting at Duke Hastings was well attended and he was invited to many more exclusive events – he saw Lord Hale at some, but they avoided each other well enough that they were never in the same room, nor included in the same conversations.

That was until Lord Deatons dinner, where Stiles gave a small speech, well received – and listened to similar educators. He was seated by the door, a slight ways off from the rest of the room, listening eagerly to Sir Patrick Eventide's short lecture on the ground-breaking matter of chemical fertilizers. Such a thing was not widely used near the coast, where guano was popular, but Stiles was interested all the same. Perhaps he could use these methods within his own gardens? He pondered if the chemicals would affect the larvae and the butterflies.

He was far too interested in the subject matter to pay much attention to his surroundings, and so did not see – until it was too late to move with any semblance of politeness – Lord Hale approach him.

"Lord Stiles." The Duke nodded, looking from Stiles to Sir Eventide and back. "I had not thought this a subject you thought much on."

"Hmm?" Stiles said, looking up and blinking a few times. "Oh, Your Grace." He said, standing and giving a short bow. "I am interested in all aspects of science. This is quiet within my area of study, as well as being of personal interest."

"I believe Eventide is married." Hale remarked, dryly, looking at the man giving the lecture. It took more time than he cared to admit to understand the Duke's meaning.

"My personal interest pertains to the fertilization of my greenhouses, Sir." He snapped, understanding sinking in. "Not in other matters." He was trying to keep his temper in check, the last thing he needed was to have others becoming aware of their conversation by loud voices. "I am at a loss to know why you believe me base enough to be both a fortune hunter for a young lady and lacking in morals with a married man!" He managed, not quite keeping his anger from his voice, but low enough not to attract attention. His hands were shaking with pent up rage he was unable to vent.

The Baron was furious with him, and rightly so. Hale had purposely sought him out to apologise for his behaviour, and had insulted the boy even more. He had been taken aback that the younger man had spoken of a personal interest and had assumed, wrongly, that he was sexually attracted to Eventide. Which was, now he thought of it, beyond ridiculous. The man was in his 60's and well past his prime – Stiles a young man who more than likely was attracted to other… boys. Boys his own age.

"I misunderstood." He shrugged, "I sought you out to make amends."

"You have a most unusual way of doing so." Stiles remarked, nodding curtly. "I see a friend. Good day, sir." He cut off before striding away, leaving Hale standing like an idiot staring after him.

Hale, who had not made such a display of ignorance since he married Katherine Argent, was at a loss. He wanted to seek out the Baron and apologise, again, for being a bloody fool. He should, however, just ignore the situation and stop trying to make things better.

He knew that he should. But the idea that the young man thought him an utter idiot without manners nor – he was sure – understanding of the most basic concepts of conversation. Perhaps he even thought him simple-minded. Hale frowned at the boys back as he cut through the crowd with an easy grace – several people stopping him to swap a few words or simply introduce themselves. The 'friend' he sought at the other side of the room was the young Duke Lahey, who – after a few words (and much enthusiastic hand waving on the Barons part) shot him a deadly look and announced, in bored tones, that he was quite done for the night and would be off at his club for a hand or two at cards.

They left not long after.

The general hum of the room was that the Baron Stiles was a quick wit and a great scholar. His friendship with Lahey was apparently long standing, they were a popular set at school and the Baron kept his somewhat rakish friend in line. Not a gamester nor a drunkard, the Baron spent his evenings keeping a steady head on his shoulders that gained him a great deal of respect amongst his elders, even if his peers thought him rather dull. His relationship with Miss Lahey was, Hale learned too late, widely regarded as brotherly. He was not spending his time in London hanging in Ballrooms and chasing after pretty girls - only Hale knew the reason why that was, it seemed – nor did he spend his time always with his rich friend. Independent, steady and well liked, Baron Stiles was a man that other men thought highly of.

All of this he learned with a few simple enquiries about the lad, and the more he heard, the worse he felt about his behaviour. He had treated the boy ill, twice now, and could think of no way to make it right.

When he saw the boy again, near a week and half later, he had to convince himself that he was… wrong. He had been walking home, something he knew was ill advised with the cut purses and ruffians on the streets, but it cleared his head and helped him to think – and he saw him.

Lady Ballas' house was… a well-known house of ill repute. Not the kind of place that a man like Stiles would visit. He had already made it quite clear to Hale that women were not in his interest, so why was he leaving a brothel? He followed him for a few streets, believing himself to be somewhat stealthy, until the lad simply stopped in the middle of the road and announced:

"If you are set to rob me, please, spare yourself the time."

"Why would I rob you?" He asked, before remembering that he was supposed to be following the lad stealthily.

"Lord Hale?" The boy spluttered, turning on his heel and staring. "Why on earth are you following me?"

Rather than carry a conversation across an empty street at an ungodly hour, Hale walked over to the lad and motioned him to carry on walking. After a few moments of silence, the baron turned and looked at him accusingly. "Do you plan on answering my question, your Grace, or do you intend to walk this way in complete silence?"

"You were at Lady Ballas' house." He said, shortly – knowing how ridiculous such a thing sounded. Why had he followed the boy? Idiot.

"Yes?" Stiles questioned. When Derek didn't reply, the boy carried on. "I do not see why my social activities have anything to do with you, Sir, and I have no need to explain myself." Derek remained silent, walking on. The young Baron seemed to find silence offensive, and filled it with heated words. "Lady Ballas has a great many visitors to her establishment, do you follow them all home?"

"No." He snapped, aware of how idiotic he must appear.

"Then I must assume that you think me… what? A murderer now? A knave? Robbery?" He paused for a moment before continuing. "After all, it seems you already have a shockingly low estimation of myself and my activities – perhaps you have concocted an elaborate tale of piracy and treason?" He stopped walking and turned. "A Spy, perhaps?"

"For the French?" Hale asked, hating that his tone was amused. He was amused, the boy's ramblings were comical.

"Oh, at the least." Stiles laughed, as though he had forgotten to stay angry. "Perhaps the Spanish, paying me in… in…" His voice trailed off.

"Doubloons?"

"And gold bars, stolen from the church." He stopped walking again. "I am a very dangerous man, you know, with my treasonous activities. Just being seen with me could result in death. Or worse."

"Worse than death?"

"I can think of a few fates worse than death." He stated, starting to walk again. Derek found himself mirroring his pace. "Exile. Exile somewhere cold." He pointed out. "Prison. Scottish cooking." He shuddered. "Before my father died we had a Scottish cook. I cannot describe how I looked forward to school food after those meals."

"When did your father pass?"

"A few years ago," The boy said. "He lived long enough to see me do well in school before his heart gave out. He was never really the same after my mother succumbed to red fever." He paused, stopping dead in his tracks. "You still haven't answered my question." He reminded suddenly. "As to why you were following me."

Hale knew that he would sound like the worst kind of fool for saying it, but the lad had a point. "I didn't think you were interested in the… experiences… one could buy at Ballas." He said, thankful that it was dark and the boy couldn't see how his ears were burning. His voice was flat and even though, and betrayed nothing.

"Oh." The young Baron said, before another: "Oh!" and then a snort of laughter. "I had often thought that my own curiosity was something unique, and here you are – doing something as foolish as I would."

Hale was going to say something about how he wasn't foolish, nor curious, but his actions spoke louder than his words, and he had just followed the boy for several streets. In the end, he shrugged. "Why were you there?"

"For Isaac." Stiles snorted with laughter. "His current mistress is becoming more trouble than she is worth and he sent me to curtail the relationship."

"And you did?"

"I owe him a great deal, and it is not the first time an irate woman has thrown plates at my head – nor heaped curses upon me." He laughed. "At school I was often the one sent to settle bills and the like." He grinned at Hale, who felt himself smile back. "Because I was the smallest and I often escaped unscathed."

"Does Lahey know…?" He let his voice trail off rather than ask the question outright.

"About my tastes?" He asked as Derek nodded. "Yes. He is quite understanding about the whole thing – he went so far as to introduce me to a few other boys at school. A most excellent friend." The way he spoke made Derek wonder if he was ever more than just a friend. He declined to ask, it was not his place. He shouldn't even be talking of such things at all, but he had a burning desire to know more.

"And Scott?"

"Yes," Stiles nodded. "He was confused at first, but once it was explained to him," Stiles waved a hand. "In general terms, he was more than understanding."

Derek was starting to see that the boy spoke with his entire body, using his hands, upper body and when laughing, even his feet. He reminded Hale of a newborn colt, all legs and joints. He was not like that when he was talking in public, and Hale wondered if he was always aware of his movements in a crowd.

"Has everyone been so… understanding?"

Stiles stopped walking and looked at Hale oddly, face confused. He obviously was thinking hard at what to say, his brow furrowed and mouth tightly pressed. "Isaac and Scott know, and Erica knows – of course she would know everything – but you are the only other person who knows of my nature. Aside from a few men like myself, of course." He added. "We keep very much to ourselves."

"Hidden."

"Yes." Stiles nodded. "We must always hide our true nature." He said walking on. "People do not like what is not normal. I could let people become aware, but I would be a laughing stock – never taken seriously in my field. A man of natural science who does unnatural things?" He laughed bitterly. "I might as well just give up and go home."

Hale hadn't realised just how far they had walked, until the streets became familiar – the large, well lit areas that spoke of money and privilege. Stiles too – seemed slightly taken aback that they had arrived.

"You are staying with Lahey?" Derek asked, although he knew already that was the case.

"Yes, he offered, and the expense of staying in Town is high during the Season." He shrugged. "I would be a fool to turn him down – even if he had given me a chance."

"Staying with friends is infinitely better." Derek agreed. He wouldn't know. Since Kate, he had kept very much to himself, trying to rebuild the mess she had left in her wake.

"Yes." The young Baron nodded. "Well… goodnight Sir, should you ever find yourself lurking in shadows, please do let me know. I thought I was about to be robbed."

Stiles lay in the large bed and stared at the intricately painted ceiling, angels and gods – in the classic Greek style Isaac had decorated in. He was utterly hopeless, he chastised himself. Utterly, completely hopeless. Always the worst kind of idiot – always foolishly miles ahead of his situations. He saw one thing, and surged forth like an unstoppable wave. Like the railways – such an inventive, ground breaking technology that he believed would change the world. He'd invested a fortune, and had lost it all. Tobacco too – he thought that would be the future, and had been proven again and again that rushing in was a fools game.

And now with Hale. A Duke, of all bloody things. A very handsome, rich, handsome… Duke. A Duke who insulted him then seemed to want to get to know him, and now Stiles was running away ahead again.

Idiot.

He had been married to a beauty, a diamond of the Ton. He was still in mourning for Christsakes, and yet Stiles couldn't help but wonder… maybe. Maybe he asked questions because he was curious, or maybe he asked questions because he was… like Stiles. Perhaps he, like others, was not aware of these feelings until later in life or…

Stiles sat up in bed and punched the pillow as hard as he could. Duke Hale was not like him. He was a normal, 30-something year old male, with normal male urges and desires.

Stiles was the freak.

"There is another invite for you," Lahey said, pointing with this toasted bread. "On the side table."

Stiles had overslept, probably due to his restless night and wandering thoughts. He nodded roughly and grabbed the small pile. "Another society meeting." He said, breaking the seal and reading. "They would like me to hold a small lecture."

"Excellent." Lahey yawned. He didn't care of such things. "And you were invited through me to attend the Hastings Ball next week."

"I've nothing to wear." Stiles said, as a matter of course. He'd managed to keep that line as a reasonable excuse to avoid such events.

"I've taken care of that." Lahey nodded. "Ordered you a new set of dress clothes."

"Isaac!" Stiles hissed. "You cannot do that!"

"Of course I can. You did me a great service last night – the money she cost me will more than pay for a formal set."

"Isaac, please. I will not allow you to buy me clothing." He snapped. "It not only looks suspect to our friendship, but also that I am using you ill."

"Pah!" Lahey said, waving his hand to brush away the comments. "I sent the order in your name, and I made sure it was to your odious tailor who hasn't heard of the latest styles, no one shall know."

"I shall know."

"It will be our secret." Lahey shrugged. "Not the first we have had."

Stiles groaned. Whenever Isaac believed that he was losing an argument, he would cast some hint (and once even blatantly stating) about their once much more… intimate relationship.

They were both at school and Isaac was, like indolent rich boys were wont to be: bored. Stiles and his different views on sexuality had garnered his interest and they had a passionate affair that lasted under a year. Stiles had expected Isaac to brush him aside once it had flamed out, but they had remained solid friends. Now, the memories seemed… out of place. Odd. They had once been deeply in love, and loved each other still, but in such a different way now that romance was alien.

"You are impossible." He retorted, and Lahey shrugged.

"True. However, if you are going to be put out with me, please wait till after breakfast. My head, you understand."

"You should drink less."

"You should talk less." His friend muttered, going back to his toast and tea. Stiles glared for a moment before looking through his other notes.

"Looks like McCall will be back in time for the ball." He noted, scanning the letter. "His meeting with his land agent seems to be taking longer than he expected."

"Yes, his mother too – likes to keep him in the country."

"Away from your influence."

"I pride myself on being the most interesting man you know."

"You failed to pronounce 'infuriating' Isaac." Stiles muttered, going back to his letter as his friend threw him a dark look over the table. There was one more letter, heavy paper, with an instantly recognisable crest on the seal. "Hale sent me a letter?"

"I saw that." Isaac frowned. "Was going to burn it, but I thought it might be of import. Arrived before I came down." He glared at the letter in Stiles hands. "Although I don't see what he could possibly have to say to you after Deatons meeting."

Stiles glanced up. "Oh, we are past that now, Lahey." He shrugged. "You are quite behind in all the news."

Enjoying his friends spluttering on the other side of the table, Stiles popped open the seal and quickly ran over the contents of the note. "He has asked me to supply a working treatise of my experiments. He wants to try using Bee's at his country estate." He carried on reading as Isaac watched him closely. "And to introduce some various species of butterfly also."

"Would you be required to visit his country estate for this?" Lahey's tone was not amused.

"What?" Stiles said, looking up. "Hmm?"

"Will you go to his estate for this?" His friend repeated.

"No. I should be able to simply advise him how it would be done without any inconvenience." Stiles said, re-reading the letter. "Basic stuff, really." He added, trying to ignore the way his heart raced in his chest.

The Duke and Duchess of Hastings were well known for throwing elaborate parties that were considered the highlight of the social season. Stiles had never attended before, and as he stood waiting for Erica to descend the stairs, he felt a strange flow of nervous energy in his bones. His jacket was bright, cherry red, a colour he loved and despised at the same time. He felt that he would never fade into the background in such a bright colour, and not for the first time, threw his friend a dark look. Isaac Lahey though, Duke and richer than anyone he knew, was wearing a purple and gold paisley pattern than made Stiles seem positively demure in his coat.

"You must admit, it does become you." Isaac smirked. "Your tailor might not be up to my standards, but the cut… suits you."

"I am as red as the sun." Stiles hissed. "I do not like to stand out so."

"If you think a simple red coat will make you stand out, you are in for a great disappointment tonight, my friend." Lahey grinned. "Whittimore is wearing green and blue – with the most fantastic silver roping – and he is not the wildest dandy you will see." Isaac laughed. "You will think me quite under-dressed once we arrive. Trust me on this."

"I could not think of a worst way to spend an evening." Stiles bemoaned.

"Oh, there will be ladies and dancing." Isaac shrugged. "And hidden little alcoves. Lots of hidden little alcoves, you'll find" He glanced at Stiles and gave him a small smile. "Although perhaps that does not soften your mood towards the night." He sighed. "I know of no one of your tastes here. I enquired after Daniel, but he is still in Italy."

"I really do not need your well minded interference." Stiles retorted, without venom.

"It isn't natural to go so long without a partner."

"What makes you think anything about me is natural?" Stiles laughed bitterly. He didn't want to know how Isaac knew how long it had been since he'd had any kind of companionship.

"I find you the most natural person of my acquaintance." Isaac replied with a calm tone. "And it vexes me greatly that you think otherwise."

"Thank you, Isaac."

"I do love you, Stiles." His friend said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Just not as I once did."

"And I you," He smiled. "Those days are long in the past."

"I wish you were happy."

"I wish you were not so maudlin. Remember, there are ladies and alcoves." He winked. When Isaac became ill in spirits he was often several days in bleak moods that no one could help him from. It was happening more and more as he got older. "Many alcoves and so many ladies." He added.

Isaac laughed, nodding. "And many opportunities to take said ladies into said alcoves."

He was grinning when Erica finally appeared, in a shockingly cut dress that made her brother frown, and Stiles laugh.

"Are you thinking of all those alcoves?" He teased. "And now seeing how other men might try to get a certain lady in them?"

"You have ruined my evening, Erica." Isaac said to her. "And we are not even out the door."

"My goal in life, brother dear." She laughed – sapphires glinting in the candlelight.

I'm glad to see that everyone thinks that Sterek within Regency times is kinda working! I really am loving writing this, so much fun - you wouldn't believe.

A few things: Stiles is a Baron, this means that (boo!) his father is dead. Any title would pass on to the oldest son, he would simply be a Lord (not a title) if his dad was alive.

Sorry for not updating yesterday, I was off work sick with a migraine and am only just getting over it, so writing wasn't on the cards.

I hope you like this chapter - let me know if there was something you didn't like / felt wrong / utterly hated!

Off to watch Castiel. Did I mention he's my new obsession? He's been sent for God to do what Dean tells him, I think. I'm pretty sure the sex is soon. They do sex, right? Tumblr didn't lie to me about THAT?!

;)