3. Conversations

The gardens, though stripped of their summer splendour, nevertheless offered the opportunity for long walks along pleasant avenues. Down one of these avenues strolled Will, breathing the crisp, clear air with enjoyment and relishing the crunch of leaves and gravel beneath his boots on the morning of his first full day at Muskrat Hall. He turned a corner and found himself in a tranquil oasis surrounded by high beech hedges, central to which was a small ornamental pond. Will stopped and sat down on one of the surrounding curved stone benches, glad of the chance to collect his thoughts. Peering into the water, he caught a glimpse of plump red koi moving sluggishly between wan lily pads turned brown and paper-thin by the changing season. But for the most part, the murky depths seemed devoid of life.

'Before me things create were none, save things eternal, and eternal I shall endure,' he murmured.

'All hope abandon, ye who enter here?'

Jerking his head up, Will stared in dismay at Hannibal Lecter, who stood at the entrance to the grove with hands clasped behind his back, regarding Will with undisguised amusement.

'Is the situation really so very bleak, Mr Graham?'

'My thoughts are my own, sir. Please do not attempt to dissect them,' snapped Will, vexed to have been caught at a disadvantage yet again.

'Your thoughts? Dante's, surely.' To Will's discomfort, Hannibal Lecter seated himself on the opposing bench and looked at him expectantly.

Cocking his head to one side, Will pressed a finger to his lips and pretended to ponder for a moment. 'That sounds very much like an accusation of plagiarism. To impress whom, pray? The fish?'

A minuscule upward twitch at the corners of those sculpted lips softened the marble coldness of Hannibal Lecter's features, and Will felt himself responding, his impassioned Omegan nature drawn to the Alpha's controlled calm.

How strange to be so identically different.

'We are all God's creatures, so they say.'

'They say? But not you, Mr Lecter?'

'I prefer to keep my own counsel on such matters.'

Will heaved an exaggerated sigh. 'And there I was beginning to think that I might finally find you interesting.'

This deliberate provocation was met only with unblinking reserve. 'You still have not answered my question.'

'Imagine that.' Consulting his pocket watch, Will rose to his feet. 'I must attend my sister.'

'I commend you on your attentiveness.'

Will narrowed his eyes. 'Why do I doubt the sincerity of that statement?'

At this, the Alpha looked finally affronted. 'I do not know,' he replied slowly. 'But you should not. It is not my habit to bestow meaningless compliments, Mr Graham.'

'Really? In my experience, most compliments are just that.'

Will bowed smartly and walked away; and while he was a little ashamed of the rude manner in which he had quitted the scene, the part of him which had seethed at length over his humiliation at the Red Dragon assembly was crowing now in triumph at having at last held his own against Hannibal Lecter.

***

Alana was still extremely weak; but to Will's relief, her fever appeared greatly reduced, and the visiting apothecary pronounced himself most satisfied with her progress. When at length Will left his sister, he sought with reluctance the master of the house, only to be informed that Mr Verger and Mr Lecter had gone to London on a matter of business and would be absent until nightfall. And so it was to Miss Verger whom Will applied for permission to send a note to Wolf Manor, informing the family of Alana's condition and desiring Mrs Graham to pay a visit in order to assess for herself the situation. This Miss Verger readily agreed to and the note was quickly dispatched. There was little else to occupy him once this small task had been accomplished; and feeling curiously listless, Will passed the remainder of the day in his sister's room.

Rising with the sun and finding most of the household still abed, Will seized the opportunity for another solitary walk about the grounds. All was silent and still and crisply bright, and he found himself drawn once more in the direction of the ornamental pond. He was strangely unsurprised to find Hannibal Lecter already seated there, head bent in rapt concentration as he sketched in pencil on a small pad.

Will debated whether to turn around and retreat, but curiosity stayed his feet. And a moment later, the man whom he had heretofore considered only as an adversary said pleasantly, without lifting his head, 'Good morning, Mr Graham. Will not you join me?'

He hesitated before crossing to the bench he had occupied the previous day.

'Was your business in town concluded satisfactorily?' he asked once seated, for want of a better subject.

'It was,' came the nonchalant reply. 'And your sister? How does Miss Graham?'

Will watched as long, elegant fingers moved over the paper with sure grace.

'The apothecary is confident of a full recovery. Our mother,' he could not resist adding, 'is due to visit later this morning.'

The pencil halted for a moment before resuming in a sweeping arc. Will hid a smile.

'May I ask what you are drawing?'

'Certainly. Please, see for yourself.'

Stretching out to take the proffered pad, Will felt a frisson of awareness as their fingers touched, and pulled back sharply. To cover his confusion, he busied himself studying the sketch of a domed cathedral against a clear sky.

'Il Duomo?' he ventured, and registered with complacency Hannibal Lecter's surprise.

'Indeed. Or, to use its proper title, Il Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore.'

'The Cathedral of Saint Mary of the Flower,’ he translated slowly. ‘It is a beautiful name. Are you drawing it from memory?'

'I am. I have found that memory can serve very well as a view. Have you visited Florence?'

Will shook his head. 'I should like to.' Wistful, he returned the sketch pad. 'Perhaps someday.'

'And what stands in your way now?'

A furrow formed between Will's brows. 'We are not all of equal means, sir.'

An awkward pause followed.

‘My apologies, Mr Graham. I did not mean to give offence.'

Recalling the last time he had given offence – and serious offence, at that – to Will Graham, Hannibal felt for the first time the full weight of remorse over the incident. No matter how insuperable the social barriers between them, Will had not deserved to be humiliated so.

Will.

When had he begun to think of the Omega in terms usually reserved for his most intimate acquaintance? Unwilling to follow that train of thought to its conclusion, Hannibal surfaced from his introspection and refocused on Will, who was regarding him from beneath lowered lashes.

'Perhaps you could tell me something of your travels there,' he muttered.

Rare was it for Hannibal to be surprised by anyone, yet once again this country boy had proven himself to be far from predictable.

'Of course,' he said at length. 'Of what would you like to hear first?'

Small, slender fingers curled around his delicate chin, elbow resting on his knee, Will proved to be a most attentive listener. Unlike Mason, whose habit it was to interject with distracting exclamations whenever Hannibal attempted to speak of anything at length, Will sat rapt and mostly silent. His comments, when he offered them, were astonishingly insightful – Omegas were reputed to be lively debaters but Will was something beyond.

'I think that I should prefer the Uffizi to the Royal Academy,' he mused, a faraway expression in his dark-fringed eyes, as if he were somehow seeing the small Florentine art gallery merely from Hannibal's description. 'A more intimate setting must surely allow for deeper contemplation of the art.'

'My favourite painting hangs in the Uffizi. La Primavera.' Hannibal smiled in indulgent remembrance. 'Since first seeing it as a boy I have been captivated by its melancholic beauty.'

'Each of us is possessed of a light and a dark side, do not you think?'

Hannibal hummed in agreement. 'Though I warrant not many among our acquaintance would be comfortable with such an assertion. I cannot imagine Mason earnestly contemplating his own dark side.'

Will's huff of laughter brought an answering smile to Hannibal's lips.

'Tell me, Mr Lecter, what is your opinion of the part Botticelli is thought to have played in the Bonfire of the Vanities?'

The way in which Will spoke of artistic interpretation and moral philosophy indicated a keenly empathic intellect, and Hannibal found himself relishing their conversation with an enjoyment he had seldom before experienced. It was with a start that he realised how much of the morning had passed when the church bell struck eleven.

Clearing his throat, he offered gruffly, 'Perhaps we should go back. If your family is expected -'

'Yes, of course.'

Fleetingly, Hannibal wondered whether the sudden softness in Will's eyes signalled affection for his family or regret for the termination of their conversation. The realisation that he wished it to be the latter perturbed him, and abruptly he stood, leading the way out of the park at a brisk pace.

Upon their return to the house they were met by Margot, who wore a harried expression. 'Mr Graham, I am glad you are returned. Your mother and sisters have arrived. They asked to be taken straight to Miss Graham.'

'Thank you,' said Will, cheeks a becoming shade of pink as he glanced sideways at Hannibal.

Wondering whether he could reasonably be excused the coming ordeal if he simply walked in a different direction, Hannibal felt the tentative hope die as Margot turned to him with a bright smile.

'Hannibal, perhaps you could wait with Mr Graham in the breakfast parlour.'

'Of course,' he replied, schooling his features to neutrality. 'Please,' stepping aside for Will to precede him into the small room.

Once inside, Hannibal took up a position by the fireplace and glanced uneasily at Will, the easy atmosphere of their earlier discourse evaporating within the stultifying atmosphere of the house. Feeling himself slipping back into stiff formality, Hannibal searched for an excuse to break the silence.

'No doubt Mrs Graham will be anxious for your and Miss Graham's return to Wolf Manor,' he commented finally.

'No doubt.' Pacing, Will issued a tight smile. 'Have no fear, Mr Lecter. I am sure we shall soon be on our way.'

Hannibal frowned. 'It was not my intention to suggest –'

'Ah, Will, there you are!'

Closing his mouth abruptly, Hannibal retreated to the window as into the parlour trouped Mrs Graham and her three younger daughters, followed closely by Margot and Mason.

'Our dear Alana is a great deal too ill to be moved,' pronounced the lady, sounding remarkably cheerful at the prospect.

'Of course she shall not be moved. My brother, I am sure, will not hear of it,' declared Margot.

'It is as my sister says, Madam,' said Mason with cold civility. 'Miss Graham shall remain here with us until she is fully recovered.'

'Well, well.' Mrs Graham nodded in apparent satisfaction. 'I cannot think of a pleasanter setting for Alana's recuperation. You will not think of quitting Muskrat Hall soon, I hope?'

'I really could not say,' replied Mason indolently. 'My decisions are usually sudden. I daresay that if I decided to quit the place, I should be off in five minutes.'

'That is exactly as I should have supposed,' commented Will dryly.

'You are a studier of character?' asked Margot, indicating a row of chairs, upon which the visitors promptly sat, and taking a seat herself on an adjacent sofa. 'How amusing.'

'Yes, but intricate characters are the most amusing. A pity they are so seldom to be found.'

Mason's look of outrage was lost on all but Hannibal. Torn between indignation at the impropriety of the Grahams' behaviour and continued admiration of Will's perceptiveness, he said distantly, 'Unsurprising, when one considers that in a country neighbourhood you must surely move in an unvarying society.'

This brought Will's eyes flashing to his own. 'Perhaps, yet you will own that people themselves vary constantly, whether they live in Finsbury – or Florence.'

The beginning of a smile froze on Hannibal's lips as Mrs Graham exclaimed, 'Indeed! I assure you there is quite as much of that going on in the country as in your fancy cities.'

Margot laughed uneasily, Mason smirked and Hannibal turned away, feigning a sudden fascination with the view of the grounds as he fought down his rising ire.

'Mama, you quite mistook Mr Lecter,' he heard Will chastise in a tone laced with embarrassment. 'He only meant that there is not such a variety of people to be met with in the country.'

'I am sure I do not know what you mean,' huffed Mrs Graham. 'Why, we dine with four and twenty families. I was saying so only yesterday to Sir James. Now there is a gentleman. Such a model of good breeding. And those persons who fancy themselves very important, and never open their mouths, quite mistake the matter.'

Nothing but concern for Margot – and, oddly, Will – prevented Hannibal from walking out then and there. He kept his countenance, however, and the topic shifted mercifully back to Miss Graham.

'Your eldest daughter is most amiable,' said Margot softly - too softly for Hannibal's liking.

'Ah, yes. I believe all our acquaintance envy me my dear Alana. She has many times been mistaken for an Omega, so great is her beauty. I often tell my other children they are nothing to her.'

Inwardly, Hannibal scorned such a sentiment. To be sure, Alana Graham was notably pretty, her features and shape pleasingly symmetrical; but where was the fire, the wit, the vivacity that was so compelling in her brother? Feeling unaccountably slighted on Will's behalf, Hannibal half-turned to look at the boy and reaffirm his belief in Mrs Graham's absurdity. Will stood by the hearth, hands clasped behind his back, head bent as he studied the patterns on the rug with apparent fascination. Thick lashes fanned across cheeks of peach-pinkness, the Omega's expression hidden by untameable curls which tumbled across his face. An urge to reach out and sweep his fingers through them overtook Hannibal, to the extent that he found himself actually moving forward, hand half-raised, and had to check himself sharply.

Meanwhile, Mrs Graham continued her relentless theme. 'A young man once wished to pay his addresses to her when we were staying at my brother Mr Crawford's house in town, though Alana was too young and it came to naught. Still, he wrote some very pretty verses on her.'

'And so ended his affection,' cut in Will impatiently, head jerking up. 'I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!'

'Is not it considered the food of love?' countered Hannibal, alarm at his earlier impulse prompting him to seek distance in pointless disputation.

'I think that you are confusing poetry with music.' An unmistakable flash of mischief brightened the already impossible blue of those intelligent eyes, Will apparently not in the least put out by Hannibal's argumentative stance. 'At least, according to Mr Shakespeare.'

At this, Hannibal could not hold back a smile and, despite his misgivings, warmth tugged at him as Will returned the gesture.

'Mr Verger,' piped up Abigail, who had been sitting whispering with her sisters throughout the entire visit. 'May I ask you a question?'

Having quite forgotten Mason's presence, Hannibal was almost startled to hear the sulky reply issue from where the Alpha lurked behind his sister. 'Indeed.'

'We heard it said that you promised Sir James at the Red Dragon to give a ball here when you were settled. Is that so? Because if it is, then it would be most shameful scandalous of you to not keep your word.'

As Mrs Graham chuckled merrily – and Will hissed beneath his breath, 'Abigail!' – Hannibal watched Mason with amused curiosity. Really, he looked almost green at the prospect.

'Why, I –'

'Come, brother,' said Margot cheerfully, ‘there is no longer any reason to be coy. Miss Abigail, when your sister is recovered, you shall if you please name the very day of the ball. We would be delighted. Is not that so, Mason?'

'Hmph.'

As it had in fact been Margot who had made the promise to Sir James, Hannibal felt that Mason could perhaps be forgiven his pained bemusement.

Mrs Graham and her daughters departed shortly afterwards, Will returning instantly to his sister; and with the arrival of Mrs Cordell, Hannibal was forced to endure the tedium of Mason's mocking review of the entire visit.

***

Not until evening could Will be persuaded by Alana to return downstairs, but eventually the prospect of studying more of Mr Verger's stubborn partiality in the face of Hannibal Lecter's pointed indifference proved irresistible.

Hannibal.

Uppermost in Will's mind as he entered the drawing room was their morning conversation: there had been between them such perfect synchronicity of thought, such harmony of sentiment. He had been... entranced. Yet when once again in company, he had sensed Hannibal's rapid withdrawal. His distance. Confused and hurt, Will felt nonetheless an increasingly helpless pull to the complicated Alpha.

I shall simply have to build a fort around my feelings.

Glancing around the room, Will found everyone actively employed. Mr Cordell, Mrs Cordell and Miss Verger were engrossed in a game of vingt-un; Hannibal was writing a letter; and Mr Verger, though ostensibly reading, appeared to be far more engaged by his friend's handwriting than by his own book.

'You write uncommonly fast.'

'You are mistaken. I write rather slowly.'

'Mr Graham, I am so pleased that you have joined us. How does your sister?' enquired Miss Verger, pausing in the act of choosing a card from the central stack.

'She is much recovered and sends her thanks for the basket of pears,' he replied, his own gratitude for Miss Verger's solicitude warming his voice.

Lifting his head, Hannibal caught Will's eye and smiled briefly before returning once more to his letter. Feeling his cheeks heating, and aware of Mr Verger's narrow-eyed stare, Will wandered over to the book table.

'No doubt that is why your penmanship is so elegant,' continued Mr Verger, as if his sister and Will had not spoken.

'It has less to do with his penmanship than with his eternal search for the perfect metaphor,' commented Miss Verger. 'Is not that so, Hannibal?'

Will, poring over an atlas, looked up to gauge Hannibal's reaction to his friend's teasing.

'Though you are prone to exaggeration, I will admit that my style is unique,' came the unruffled reply.

'As is Margot's,' sniggered Mr Verger, 'though I am sure she will own that her hallmark is carelessness.'

'My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them all,' she sighed, laying down her hand.

'An indirect boast if ever I heard one,' commented Hannibal.

'How so, when I am admitting my brother's charge?'

'You are admitting only to rapidity of thought, which is suggestive of enviable intelligence.'

'Well, how very cunning of me!'

Upon seeing that Miss Verger, though smiling, was clearly embarrassed, Will clicked his tongue in annoyance. This was the Hannibal whom he had encountered at the Red Dragon assembly – proud and arrogant – and the unpleasant reminder prompted him to speak up in a tone bordering on outright rudeness.

'Whereas claiming a unique style is an exercise in modesty?'

Laying his pen gently on the blotter beside his unfinished letter, Hannibal turned in his chair and directed a piercing stare at Will. Whether of anger or admiration, Will could not tell, but his heart beat faster as their gazes held.

'Is there something you wish to say, Mr Graham?' challenged Hannibal softly.

Swallowing, Will gathered his courage and lifted his chin. 'You appear to me, Mr Lecter, to be intent on fostering insecurity among your friends.'

'Really? Is that what I am doing?'

Head tilted, Hannibal continued to pin Will with a disturbingly intense stare that he felt powerless to escape.

'Sadly, that I cannot allow,' cried Miss Verger. 'Hannibal is a stalwart friend, truly, though from time to time it does please him to play the pedant. On such occasions he is, I admit, an awful object – at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening, when he has nothing to do.'

Hannibal hummed in apparent amusement. But Will could see that he was rather offended, and checked his own urge to laugh. Still, he could not deny a certain rising satisfaction when he recalled his own past humiliation – far worse than Miss Verger's gentle teasing – at Hannibal's hands.

Doubtless to fill the sudden silence, Mr Verger called for a musical interlude, and Mrs Cordell promptly abandoned her cards and seated herself at the pianoforte.

'Do you play, Mr Graham?' asked Mr Verger, though his tone indicated a complete lack of interest in the answer.

'Aye, but only a very little.'

Mr Verger's smirk was annoying but predictable. Omegas were generally expected to excel at all the arts, yet somehow Will had never summoned the patience to hone his natural but raw talent. Nevertheless, he closed the atlas and wandered over to the instrument to look through a pile of music books which lay spread across its gleaming surface.

'Would you care to select something to play for us?'

Starting, Will once again silently cursed Hannibal's unique ability to move with disconcerting stealth. He straightened up and looked steadily back at the Alpha, whose proximity as he leaned across Will to sift through the collection of books flustered him more than he cared to admit, but he stood unflinching and made no reply.

'I said –'

'I heard what you said,' Will interrupted, 'but I was not certain how to frame my reply.'

'Explain,' came the imperious command.

Will folded his arms. 'Very well. If I said yes, you would no doubt despise my taste in music. If I said no, you would despise my neglect of etiquette. But you see, Mr Lecter, I have never cared a jot about the social graces.' He smiled, a dry, fleeting thing. 'No, I do not wish to play – and now despise me if you dare.'

'Indeed I do not dare.’

To Will’s surprise, Hannibal bowed gallantly and returned to his writing desk.

Every time I think that I understand him...

Lips pursed in a rueful twist, Hannibal took up his pen again, though it was some minutes before he was able to regain his concentration. Never before had he encountered such a bewitching combination of sweetness and archness in one person. Never had he taken such pleasure merely at the sound of someone's voice, irrespective of what they were saying. And never had he been so attuned to one particular scent - so much so that he had been alerted to Will's presence several moments before the Omega had stepped through the doorway. He really believed that, were it not for the inferiority of Will's connections and his dubious heritage, he should be in some danger.

***

Awaking to another fine yet cold morning, Hannibal emerged reluctantly from the warmth of his bed and rang for his valet. He stood by the window as he waited, looking out over the frost-encrusted lawn, and his gaze narrowed as a slight figure emerged from around the side of the house and ran across the grass.

It was Will. Barefoot, clad in a thin white shirt tucked loosely into breeches, he was waving a branch above his head and whistling. Moments later Hannibal understood why, when a large black dog bounded up and began circling Will playfully. A very familiar black dog.

'Ripper? What the deuce?'

Watching Will play in such a carefree manner with his beloved Great Dane filled Hannibal with a confusion of feelings. On the one hand, the total want of propriety demonstrated by the boy, who evidently thought nothing of frolicking half-naked on other people's lawns before breakfast, was unquestionably appalling. On the other... Rosy-cheeked, lithe and graceful, dark curls wild around his face, Will seemed the epitome of wanton beauty.

The arrival of his valet prompted Hannibal's hasty withdrawal from the window; and the next time he glanced out, dressed and coiffed and ready to begin the business of the day, there was no sign of either boy or dog. Nor did Will make an appearance at breakfast - choosing evidently to share a simple repast with Miss Graham in her room – and it was not until some hours later that Hannibal again encountered him.

***

Taking the air with Mason usually provided an excellent opportunity for conversing about land management and livestock. This morning, however, the tiresome man seemed determined to be provoking by talking non-stop of Hannibal's supposed future union with Will Graham.

As they walked through the shrubbery, Mason commented slyly, 'Of course, the wedding breakfast will be a grand affair, but I hope you will teach your mother-in-law beforehand to hold her tongue, for I fear there will be no time for the speeches otherwise. And perhaps, while you are about it, you might endeavour to check your beloved Omega's tendency to impertinence. I am not sure it is a quality of which your uncle would approve.'

'You do not believe my Uncle Robert capable of engaging with a person of strong opinions? He is, after all, a judge.'

Of course, there was not the remotest possibility of his uncle ever even meeting Will, but if a little misdirection could put an end to Mason's tiresome prodding, then the effort would be well worth the reward.

'Well, yes,' sputtered Mason, 'and that is precisely why the Crawfords' portraits should be hung beside your uncle's in the gallery at Ravenstag. Mr Crawford is an attorney, you know, which is practically in the same line, although there is no room in Cheapside for great estates, more is the pity.'

'Have you any other advice to give?' asked Hannibal, wishing suddenly that he were sitting on a stone bench across from Will, describing his favourite chapel in Palermo and eliciting Will’s opinion of Byzantine architecture, rather than listening to the senseless ramblings of a man whom, but for his connection to Hannibal's best friend, he should never have cared to know.

'Only that you should not even attempt to have your dear William's likeness taken, for what artist could do justice to those beautiful eyes?'

At that moment, around the end of the long beech walk appeared the owner of said beautiful eyes, expression wary as he acknowledged Hannibal and Mason with a slight bow. Beside Will – who was now properly attired, a fact for which Hannibal assured himself he was thankful – walked Mrs Cordell, who promptly abandoned her companion in favour of taking her brother's arm.

The path admitted only three and Hannibal, refusing to participate in such rudeness, dropped back immediately.

'This walk is not wide enough for all of us. We had better go into the avenue.'

Glancing at Will as he said this, and expecting at least a show of gratitude, he felt a swell of anger as Will laughed – actually laughed – and declared, 'No, no; do not change your plans on my account. You are so charmingly grouped, the aesthetic would be spoilt by admitting a fourth.' Adding breezily, as he aimed an arch glance at Hannibal, 'Goodbye.'

And as the unconscionable brat ran off, Ripper delivered the final insult by deserting his post at Hannibal's heel and loping after the boy.

***

Gladly Will returned to the haven of Alana’s room; and although his sister slept soundly through most of the remainder of the day, he contented himself with a book and settled with it in a corner window seat. Yet uppermost still in his mind was Hannibal Lecter and his disquieting shifts of mood. From antagonist to would-be friend to haughty gentleman; manipulative one moment, considerate the next.

Who are you really? Why cannot I see you clearly? And why do I care so much?

He was thankful when finally Alana awoke, cheeks a little less pale and eyes brightened considerably. Immediately, he put down his book and went to sit beside her.

‘You look much improved.’

‘I do feel better.’ With a grateful smile, she squeezed his hand. ‘Thank you for keeping me company. I regret that I have not been the most scintillating of companions.’

Will grimaced. ‘Believe me, your company, whether scintillating or silent, is a thousand times preferable to that of certain other individuals in this household.’

‘Oh, poor Will. But I am sure that soon I shall be fully recovered, and then we can return home.’

‘Do you feel well enough to pass an hour in the drawing room?’ He winked. ‘ I believe that Miss Verger is missing you terribly.’

Alana laughed softly. ‘Do not be ridiculous. I am sure that Miss Verger has far more important matters to think of than I.’

Will quirked a brow. ‘I am sure that she has not! Come, allow me to ring for a servant and send a message downstairs. You should not lie here wasting away like a tragic heroine.’

Acquiescing with a lightness of heart that Will was only too thankful to once again see, Alana offered one final piece of advice before sending him back downstairs for dinner.

‘Do not be afraid of them, Will. You are every bit as much the gentleman as any other beneath this roof. Believe that and you will perhaps not feel so inclined to defensiveness.’

How well Alana knew him! Perhaps provocation was not the wisest course, but in this unfamiliar environment Will felt his own vulnerability keenly. And a lifetime of fighting other people’s prejudices and misconceptions was not to be vanquished in such company as Muskrat Hall offered. At dinner, he ate little and spoke less, anxious to avoid both Mr Verger’s hostility and Hannibal’s displeasure by returning to Alana as soon as possible. But he need not have worried, for both Alphas ignored him throughout the meal. Indeed, Hannibal spoke only to Miss Verger, who was positively brimming with excitement at the prospect of Alana finally coming downstairs.

Consequently, there was a flurry of activity in the drawing room as preparations were made for the guest of honour’s imminent arrival. The fire was piled high with logs, the windows secured and all doors closed except the one leading out into the hall. All that was left then was for Will to escort his sister, dressed and happy if a little wan-looking, downstairs.

'Miss Graham, do come and sit here by the fire,' said Miss Verger with gentle concern. 'It is rather chilly this evening.'

'Thank you,' came the grateful response, and once seated the two ladies were soon wholly absorbed in quiet conversation, dark heads close together.

Will settled into a high-backed leather armchair on the opposite side of the room, leafing absently through his book as he watched the couple, a small smile playing about his lips. Until, that was, Mr Verger took it into his head to tire of his own book, left his chair to walk about, and stopped unexpectedly beside Will.

'Mr Graham, let me persuade you to follow my example and take a turn about the room. I assure you it is very refreshing.'

From the corner of his eye, Will saw Hannibal look up from the unwieldy tome that he had been poring over since the moment Will and Alana had stepped through the doorway. Heart beating a little faster, Will closed his book and stood up.

'By all means.'

'Hannibal, would you care to join us?'

Hannibal shook his head. 'That would defeat the purpose, surely, Mason.'

'Meaning?'

'That either you wish to walk together because you are in each other's confidence, or because you are aware that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking. If the first, I should be completely in your way; if the second, I can admire you much better from my present position.'

Mrs Cordell and Mr Verger laughed heartily at this; Miss Verger and Alana smiled politely and immediately fell again to talking; Mr Cordell was asleep in the chair he seemed permanently to occupy and missed the entire exchange.

Will, entirely flustered, and unsure whether he was being mocked, levelled a glare at the Alpha, who returned his stare with cool challenge.

'Abominable!' cried Mr Verger, clearly utterly thrilled. 'How shall we punish him for such a speech? Feed him to the pigs, eh, Mr Graham?'

'Nothing so easy,' said Will, head cocked to one side as they stood side-by-side regarding Hannibal. 'Tease him, perhaps. Laugh at him.'

'I think not,' replied Mr Verger. 'Laughter without a subject is so very vulgar.'

'Mr Lecter is not to be laughed at? What a shame,' commented Will dryly.

At this, Hannibal snapped shut his book and rose from his chair. 'Am I to gather,' he asked silkily, prowling towards Will, 'that your first object in life is a joke?'

While Mr Verger immediately backed away, Will stood his ground, chin raised in scornful challenge.

'Certainly not,' he replied, 'though undoubtedly such people exist. I do not seek to ridicule the wise or the good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies – these are the elements of human nature which divert me. But I suppose you are without such weaknesses?'

Hannibal bared his teeth in what presumably was intended to pass for a smile for the benefit of those pretending not to watch the little scene unfold. 'It has been my intention to avoid those weaknesses which expose a strong understanding to ridicule.'

'Such as vanity?’ Will shot back. ‘And, perhaps, moral superiority?'

Amber eyes narrowed. 'Certainly preoccupation with aesthetics is a weakness. But morality? I would consider certainty of one’s principles to be a virtue.'

'Oh, then you have no defect,' declared Will, eyes mirthful. 'You own it yourself without disguise.'

Taking another couple of steps towards the impudent Omega, Hannibal leaned in as if to impart a confidence. 'I have faults enough, Mr Graham, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper is –'

'Unyielding?'

Mocking boy.

Another step. 'Precisely.'

'Intractable?'

And another, until the toes of their boots were practically touching. 'Most assuredly.'

'Resentful?'

Their faces were now so close, Hannibal felt the puff of breath from Will's lips ghost across his own.

'Yes.' A hiss. 'My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.'

'Then Mr Verger is correct,' said Will, blue eyes suddenly serious again. 'For implacable resentment is not to be laughed at.'

'We each of us have the capacity for some particular evil,' mused Hannibal, gaze straying to Will's parted lips.

'And yours is an intractable belief in your own superiority,' scoffed Will.

'While yours,' replied Hannibal with grim emphasis, 'is a wilful disregard for the rules of civilised society.'

'Meaning what?' flared Will, eyes narrowing dangerously. 'That I do not belong in civilised society?'

'Will!' admonished Miss Graham, at which point Hannibal realised that the rest of the party had fallen silent and were watching the heated exchange with rapt interest.

'Do let us have a little music,' huffed Mason, looking now thoroughly put out. 'This bickering is wearisome.'

Turning abruptly away, Hannibal felt a rare gratitude for Mason's interruption. Surely he had learned by now that paying Will too much attention was folly and could easily be misinterpreted. Granted the boy's rebelliousness was seductive – when one had been brought up to believe unquestioningly in the sanctity of duty and honour before all else, the idea of freedom from such strictures was certainly appealing. But the manner in which they had just interacted had been almost – intimate. And no matter how attractive were those long-lashed blue eyes, or the mind behind them, the idea that anyone might come to believe that the Omega held any sort of claim over him was unconscionable. Resolving therefore to keep his distance for the remainder of the Grahams’ stay, Hannibal excused himself with curt politeness and left the room without so much as another glance in Will's direction.