What was a wastrel supposed to be like?
Overbearing and domineering? Stupid and arrogant? Elliot was actually rather curious.
Nobles generally took great care in raising their eldest sons, preparing them to take over the family, while second sons without inheritance rights were left to their own devices, with no share in the family estate in the future.
The more ambitious second sons were sent into the army or the church to make something of themselves. Those who merely drifted through life were allowed to do so; supporting them for a lifetime did not cost much anyway.
Elliot was the eldest son. If he became angry, even another great noble family would have to weigh its options carefully and probe cautiously.
Garrett was a second son, precisely the pawn pushed forward to test the waters. Even if Elliot humiliated him, it would not cost the Trenchard Family much face.
Once he had worked that out, Elliot relaxed considerably.
Soon, a servant pushed open the drawing room door, and a young man of eighteen or nineteen walked in.
He was not wearing formal attire, but a more casual hunting outfit, though its buttons were fastened with stiff, almost nervous precision.
The moment he entered, he spoke in a slightly exaggerated tone. "Hey, Elliot, you'll never guess what I got my hands on-"
Then his steps faltered. His gaze landed on Flora, and he stopped, looking surprised.
According to noble etiquette, speaking directly to a member of the opposite sex without a formal introduction was extremely rude.
Garrett stood frozen in place, awkwardly waiting for Elliot, as the host, to make the necessary introduction.
If Elliot said nothing, he could only stand there.
Yet Elliot remained firmly seated, showing no intention of rising, his face expressionless.
Flora was a little at a