Another week, another ball. Or a gathering of some sort, at least; Blaine had stopped paying attention to his mother's plans long ago. He would be required to go, and someone would tell him how to dress. There wasn't any need for him to think about it.

This one wasn't splendid, although countless candles did give the room a certain glamour. But the present guests were the ones on the edges of polite society, like a baronet's daughter who had been involved in a scandal of bigamy, and her bastard son. Or the offspring of a very common woman who was now an earl, or a rich Jewess with a family still active in trade. It actually made the company easier to bear, Blaine thought. He wasn't stared at nearly as much as usually. Everyone here had something they desperately tried to hide, be it lower birth or a gaming problem. Everyone tried to act as if they belonged to that glittering, elusive group of people who would never set foot in an assembly like this.

Watching Lady St. James dance and Sebastian wriggle his way out of one dance after another, he smiled. This was almost comfortable.

He had lost sight of his mother soon after they entered, and assumed she was again the center of attention of a group of admiring men. It didn't matter; he didn't feel he actually had the duty to watch her. To him, his chaperoning duties began and ended with him accompanying her wherever she wanted to go; he'd have felt ridiculous to try and monitor her behavior or company. She was, after all, his mother, not some young debutante on her first evening out. He knew his grandmother expected otherwise, but she was simply old-fashioned. Mama and he just had to take their little freedoms as well as they could under her watchful eye, and if they could help each other, all the better.

Maybe she could help him, as well. He couldn't tell her the truth, of course, but if she thought he had a sweetheart or friends Grandmama would not approve of, maybe she could...he didn't quite know. Maybe they could go out together, and then go their separate ways. He'd have to think about it, and then maybe bring it up when she was particularly frustrated with the restrictions on her life again.

The dance ended, and he could see Lady St. James approach him. She bobbed a curtsy that was very formal and correct, and he bowed the same way. They didn't need to wink to be sure there was something ironic about it. Their growing familiarity was proven when she said without a greeting or any of the formulaic pleasantries society deemed necessary,

"Our mutual friend will not be able to make it on Wednesday. If I may say so, I think he is afraid you will...attract too much attention if you accompany him home for the third time in as many weeks."

Ridiculously, Blaine felt tears of disappointment prickling behind his eyelids. He had been looking forward to seeing Kurt again on Wednesday since...well, since leaving his room last Wednesday. To have to wait another week seemed entirely too much to ask.

He forced a smile and said, "Well, we will have to do without him then."

Rachel, as he had inappropriately started to think of her, was not fooled. She looked at him with pity, then said, brazenly, "You should ask me to dance so we can talk properly."

Like everyone who grew up dancing, Blaine had mastered the art of maintaining a conversation while dancing despite the frequent interruptions when his partner was too far away. As they joined the dancers, he was mortified as well as relieved to find Rachel already had a plan. When he heard it, however, mortification won.

"Now, Kurt feels meeting you again this week would be noticeable. I'm not sure if he isn't overly guarded, but there is no convincing him, and it probably must be his decision." She curtsied and smiled charmingly at the man beside him as she gave him her hand. He waited as he led her in a circle and finally returned her to him.

"But there is a very simple way for you to be able to meet in private and not attract any attention at all."

Now it was his turn to bow and offer his hand to the young lady next to Rachel, and while he led her back to her partner, he wondered how that could be accomplished.

"Both of you simply stay with me after the others have left, and I will have a room readied for you where you can have privacy."

He almost missed a step at that. Was she really offering him a room in her house for them to have...for them to...? When they hadn't even? Not that she knew that. Not that it was any of her business.

For a moment, he was tempted to accept her offer. It was simply another misguided sign of friendship, he was sure, like her continuous gifts of money to Kurt.

He must have looked at her aghast, with an open mouth that he shut abruptly, for when the steps led them towards each other again, she said,

"I know it's unusual, but we have to think practically here."

"You are very kind, my lady," Blaine said as the dance finally ended and they very slowly made their way back to the table with the refreshments. "But you must know that there is no way we can accept that offer."

"I don't see why not," she said, and Blaine knew by the stubborn set of her jaw and shoulders that she had anticipated resistance.

"Because we can hardly let you turn your home into a molly house for our sakes," he said, because he could hardly say, "because we would be much too embarrassed to so much as kiss in that room."

"I wouldn't -" she started to protest, but interrupted herself. "That is what I would do, in a way, wouldn't I?"

"I think so, yes."

She thought for a moment, then shrugged. "I don't care. I keep my word."

"But maybe your husband cares," Blaine said, hoping his exasperation wouldn't show. "And...you must be aware that Kurt would never accept."

"I was hoping you might persuade him. But I see what you mean. It might be too much. My husband..." She shook her head. Blaine knew what she meant. Sir Jesse was as much of a newcomer in society as she was, and he was very much aware of how much eccentricity they could afford and still be accepted in the circles they wanted to belong to.

He gave her a smile that was, he hoped, rather more confident than he felt. "We will find another way," he said.

He hoped they would, but didn't know what it could be. By Thursday he was almost desperate, but there was no way even to see Kurt and see if he had an idea. He would not go to his home if he was not invited—and there was that lingering fear that it wasn't so much a wish to remain inconspicuous that had prompted Kurt to staying at home on Wednesday, but another reason as well. Maybe he just didn't want to see Blaine again, or at least not in the way they had. They had never talked, never spoken about...anything, really, and all things considered, he really didn't know much about Kurt. If he preferred anonymous encounters, for example, or if secretly, he longed for something more, like Blaine did, scarcely believing it could be possible until he had met Kurt.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, didn't they say that? For him it certainly seemed to work, even though they hadn't been longer without each other than usually. But for Kurt...? There was no way for him to know.

Fortunately, life offered distraction. At home, everything was calm, but Sebastian seemed close to a panic because his steward had written to demand his attention to some matters that were best settled in person.

"It means I have to go to Dalton!" he said, pacing a path into the plush carpet of his study. Blaine, sitting comfortably on the little sofa with a glass of wine in his hand, couldn't help but smile.

"It's no laughing matter!" Sebastian admonished him. "I have no idea how to do any of that, how to...meet with tenants, or, or order repairs or whatever it is I'd have to do down there! I have no knowledge of finance, or administration, or anything! I can cheat my way through polite society, but this takes actual competence!"

"Not really," Blaine answered. "I mean, it does, but most noblemen just leave the job to their steward. But this is the same steward that worked for my father, isn't it?" he asked, and at Sebastian's nod, continued, "Then you should definitely go down there, because he is probably robbing you and enriching himself at the cost of the tenants."

"So I have to find a new steward as well." Sebastian sighed, dropped down into a chair and rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm really in over my head here. I need your help."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Come with me."

For a moment, Blaine was stunned to silence. He couldn't...or could he? He would like to see Dalton again, the safe haven of his childhood, which his father rarely visited and which was full of trees to climb and lakes to swim in and most importantly, no school. He didn't fear it might be too much to see it in the possession of someone else. It might feel strange at first, but he trusted he would get over it, just like he was now comfortably sitting in his father's old study, which he had never been allowed to enter unless he was really in trouble.

He had no pressing duties, and if he was gone, he wouldn't be forced to go to the countless balls and assemblies his mother had doubtlessly planned to attend. His grandmother would have to either let her go alone or chaperone her herself, and he knew his mother would be more than happy to go alone. Grandmother could hardly forbid him to go to the country when he was being invited by an earl, even if that earl was his somewhat scandalous half-brother and the estate was the one he should have inherited.

He wouldn't see Kurt, maybe for weeks.

The thought almost sufficed to make him decline, but then he thought it over. He wouldn't see Kurt anyway, for a week at least, and maybe if he was away for longer, Kurt would agree to see him when he was back. Maybe he would miss him.

Or...he had an idea. Two, to be exact, that turned into one bigger idea that made everything fit together...if only he could make it happen.

Half an hour later, he stood in front of the main door of the St. James's town house, being looked at by the butler the way butlers usually looked at people, but finally was allowed to wait in the parlor while the butler gave his card to his mistress to see if she was at home for Blaine.

He fidgeted like a schoolboy, sitting there and waiting, thinking he would not be able to bear it if she declined him, but finally, she came. She had clearly touched up on her hair and dress, which he should have expected but still resented a little because it meant he had had to wait longer. Still, of course he stood and bowed while she came to him with her hands outstretched, a pleased smile on her face.

"Mr. Anderson," she said. "What an unexpected pleasure."

"Lady St. James." He bowed again, suddenly nervous. What if she would be insulted because he had declined her earlier offer—he still blushed at the thought of that offer - but now came to her to help him with an idea that was, if he was completely honest, not all that different?

But she was looking at him expectantly, and he thought too much of his idea to let go of it out of fear.

"Lady St. James," he repeated. "I've come to beg your help to organize a house party. In the country."