Chapter 367: Chapter 367: Execute the plan
Trevor didn’t even argue. He just reached over, silenced his phone, and tossed it face-down onto the nightstand with the kind of composure that made Lucas want to strangle him.
"Get ready," Trevor said, his voice almost too calm.
Lucas blinked. "You’re serious?"
Trevor was already up, loosening his shirt cuffs. "We just need to shower, dress, and get out before Serathine finishes breakfast."
Lucas didn’t even try to argue anymore. "Fine. Shower, dress, flee. No goodbyes or pregnancy talk."
Trevor, halfway to the bathroom, glanced back with that infuriating calm. "See? You’re learning."
"Learning," Lucas muttered, "to run before breakfast."
By the time the water shut off and the faint scent of Serathine’s jasmine soaps filled the air, Lucas had gathered his clothes and what was left of his dignity. Ten minutes later, they were both mirror-ready or close enough for fugitives from polite society.
He adjusted the cuff of his shirt, glanced at Trevor, and sighed. "We’re going to get caught."
Trevor smirked. "Not if we’re quick."
A quiet knock interrupted them.
Windstone’s voice came from the other side of the door, impeccably calm. "Your Graces, I took the liberty of confirming that both Lady Serathine and Duchess Cressida are currently engaged in a spirited discussion regarding silver polishing protocols."
Lucas tilted his head, blinking. "You mean arguing?"
Windstone’s expression, when Trevor opened the door, didn’t change. "I wouldn’t presume to label it so crudely, Your Grace. But yes."
Trevor straightened his cufflinks, sharp amusement glinting in his eyes. "Perfect. We’ll be gone before round two."
"I expected as much," Windstone said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "I’ve already brought the car to the side entrance. Your grandmother’s driver attempted to intercept me, quite an ambitious but futile gesture."
Lucas blinked. "You what?"
Windstone inclined his head modestly. "I informed him that the Fitzgeralts required privacy for a strategic marital consultation. He turned pale and retreated."
Trevor was visibly delighted. "Marital consultation. Brilliant."
"I do what I can, my lord," Windstone said with understated pride.
Lucas exhaled, already reaching for his coat. "I can’t believe I’m sneaking out of my own mother’s mansion with our butler using our sex life as an excuse."
Windstone didn’t so much as blink. "It seemed the most efficient deterrent, Your Grace. No one in this household wants details."
Trevor laughed under his breath, sliding his watch onto his wrist. "Remind me to give you another bonus this year."
"I’ve already added it to the draft ledger, sir."
Lucas stared at him, his blonde hair, now longer, falling softly on his brow. "You planned this?"
Windstone adjusted his tie, the picture of dignity. "I merely anticipated it. Lady Serathine’s breakfast table is a known battlefield, and Duchess Cressida arrived armed with opinions. The probability of escape attempts increased significantly."
Trevor smirked. "You’ve been waiting for an excuse to leave."
"Indeed, my lord," Windstone replied smoothly. "The staff here is... adequate, but tragically uninspired. I refuse to watch another footman decant champagne with that grip." His pale green eyes were full of mischief.
Lucas rubbed a hand over his face, muttering, "We’re being rescued by a butler with aesthetic trauma."
Windstone didn’t deny it. "Someone has to maintain standards, Your Grace. Now, if you’ll follow me, the side staircase is clear, and I’ve already disabled the security alerts for the east gate. Temporarily, of course."
Trevor’s grin widened. "You’re a menace, Windstone."
"A well-dressed one, sir."
They moved quickly down the marble corridor, the distant murmur of voices echoing faintly from the breakfast salon. Lucas caught a snippet, Serathine’s cool tone, and Cressida’s sharp retort, and winced.
"She’s going to murder us," he whispered.
"Unlikely," Windstone murmured. "She’ll simply summon you later. A far more terrifying outcome."
Trevor chuckled, hand brushing the small of Lucas’s back as they turned the corner. "Come on. She loves you. She’ll forgive us once she’s had her tea."
"She’ll forgive you," Lucas said, eyes narrowing. "I’m the one who looks like I just defected from her breakfast."
They reached the side door. Windstone pushed it open, revealing the sleek black Fitzgeralt sedan already idling in the shade of the portico. The morning air carried a soft chill and the scent of freshly trimmed hedges, polished and perfumed freedom.
Trevor gestured gallantly. "After you, my heart."
Lucas gave him a look. "If she calls before we reach the gates, I’m blaming you."
"That’s fair."
Windstone opened the passenger door for him, then paused with a faint frown. "If I may, Your Graces... I’ll be accompanying you back to the manor. Temporarily."
Trevor arched an eyebrow. "Running away from Serathine’s staff again?"
Windstone adjusted his gloves. "Let’s just say I find the concept of a butler wearing white loafers deeply distressing. My blood pressure can’t sustain another day of it."
Lucas bit back a laugh as he slid into the seat. "You’re unbelievable."
"I prefer discerning," Windstone corrected gently, taking the driver’s seat.
Trevor leaned back, voice lazy as the car began to move. "You realize this makes you an accomplice, right?"
"I’ve been your accomplice since you learned to drive, sir."
"That’s true," Trevor admitted, smirking. "And somehow, you’re still alive."
Windstone glanced at him in the rearview mirror, the faintest trace of a smile touching his mouth. "Pure luck, my lord."
As the gates of Serathine’s estate closed behind them, Lucas exhaled, shoulders easing. The city stretched ahead, quiet, sunlit, and blissfully distant from family breakfast diplomacy.
Trevor reached over, threading their fingers together. "See? Freedom."
Lucas leaned his head back, eyes half-closed. "Until she calls."
Windstone’s voice was serene from the front seat. "She already has, Your Grace. I muted it."
Trevor grinned. "Windstone, you’re getting two bonuses."
"I already assumed that, sir."
Lucas laughed quietly, warmth breaking through the exhaustion. "We’re absolutely dead when we get home."
"Perhaps," Windstone said mildly. "But at least we’ll die surrounded by competent staff."
Trevor chuckled, squeezing Lucas’s hand. "Worth it."
And with that, the car glided toward the city gates, three fugitives from etiquette, scandal, and breakfast diplomacy, each pretending, with varying degrees of success, that this had been the plan all along.