Between Shadows and Secrets

Chapter 1

"Sir Alistair, Sir Alistair, who has always been there for you?"
"Sir Alistair, Sir Alistair, who helped you pick up the pieces after every injury?"
"David."
"Sir Alistair, Sir Alistair, who has been your shield all this time?"
"David."
"Sir Alistair, Sir Alistair, who has always kept you in their thoughts?"
"David."
"Sir Alistair, Sir Alistair, who is the one you fear the most?"
"David."
It’s all David—our greatest David, Butler David. The reliable David.
All this makes me think of the theme song from SpongeBob SquarePants...
The online version of "Sir Alistair" and the published version, “The Libertine Life of Sir Alistair,” diverge only because of the inserted “Married Life." I compared both, and honestly, I couldn’t decide how to separate them, so I just included both versions for you to judge! (Shrugs)
For those who find the online version's edits disjointed, feel free to check out the published version instead!
A little extra note: The online content is quite extensive!

Chapter 2

Sir Alistair first met David on the day of his mother’s funeral when he was just thirteen. Gentle-faced David approached him and asked, “Are you young Mr. Houghton?”
“Unless you’re looking for that lively Mr. Houghton over there,” Sir Alistair replied, seated on the corner floor, fiddling with the shattered pieces of a vase he had just broken. With his golden hair and striking blue eyes, he was a handsome boy, back from boarding school in America to commemorate his mother’s glorious passing.
“I’m here for you… I’m David Keel,” David introduced himself.
“Are you sure about that?” Young Mr. Houghton tossed the fragments aside, raising his bright emerald eyes to meet the soft-spoken young man in front of him.
“Absolutely.”
“Alright then… what can I do for you?” Sir Alistair shrugged, somewhat dismissively.
“I’m your mother’s appointed steward…” David smiled calmly, “From now on, I’ll take care of you until you come of age, if you permit me to do so.”
“Lady Kayla.” Sir Alistair’s eyes widened in surprise, “She didn’t even give me a heads-up before dying, yet she went ahead and found me a steward… classic her.” He mumbled under his breath and added, “Hey, do you have any proof of that?”
David grinned at him and said, “I’m sorry, but the letter she left for you is at a secure place. Would it be alright if I brought it to you a bit later?”
Sir Alistair rolled his eyes, “Don’t pull my leg; I’m not that easy to fool…” He stood up, “And don’t think that just because you’re good-looking, you can trick me. Why don’t you go report to your Old Sir Houghton instead? I’m not on his list of clueless sons.”
He padded barefoot toward the end of the hall but stopped halfway and looked back, “Can you get me a drink from the hall? I’ll tip you when you return, pretty boy… uh…”
“David, David Keel,” he replied.
“Alright, David, go fetch me a damn drink.” The charming Sir Alistair ordered with his lovely face setting the tone.
David bowed slightly, turning away smoothly, heading toward the hall to fetch what Sir Alistair needed… the milk suitable for someone his age, along with a letter from his dear mother, which read:
"My dearest, most mischievous little Sir Alistair, by the time you read this letter, your beautiful, sexy mommy has been called to Hell by Satan to pursue a different career. Please don’t cry for her; you know she can always take care of herself.
Speaking of care, you always need it… remember how you scolded me the day I sent you to America just because I couldn’t reward you with a kiss when you were being naughty in the morning before school? On that note, I’ve found a highly reliable person to look after you until you are of age. Oh, that’s what I told him, but I have to admit, I lied to you; I hope he’ll take care of you for a long time. He’s a genius, and I couldn’t find anyone more suited to take care of you. Trust me, darling, hold onto him tightly and don’t let him go. You won’t find anyone better at loyalty. His family has a long history in this regard; his great-great-grandfather was said to be the most trusted steward of the Queen of England...
I’ve made sure that all the assets of the House of Houghton — and mine — are under your name. Oh, my dear, I really hope you’re already eighteen by the time you read this. If not, your father will become your guardian; he’s a bit scatterbrained, and I can only guess the foolish things he might do in the future. Please be careful.
Of course, I know you might hate the idea of a steward… but, honey, he’s the perfect choice that took me a long time to find, so you have to like him. From now on, every single expense you incur will need his approval… that’s the right I’ve given him. In a short while, the most annoying Bartholomew the Bearded will come to announce this delightful news to you.
Well, my dear child, mommy hasn’t felt too well lately… and the string of curse words you’ve recently uttered makes my head hurt into a throbbing mess; so, let’s leave it at this.
Forever loving you, Lady Kayla.”
PS:
Dreamy Smile: "Sir Alistair, do you know why I’m writing to you?"
Sir Alistair (still looking handsome): "Why?"
Dreamy Smile (smiling again): "You’re funnier, which makes it much more enjoyable to get tickets for shows… occasionally, sending you out to score tickets for me or even get caught up in something mob-related is much more entertaining."
Sir Alistair (smiling again): "Very honest of you, let’s go for a drink…"
Dreamy Smile (smile slightly faltering): "You're paying."
Sir Alistair (still looking lovely): "Well, that’s for sure… come on, if you keep David away from me, I’ll buy you a drink next time, how about that? Or maybe you can point out a man in this hall whom you like, and I’ll make sure he ends up in your bed tonight."
Dreamy Smile (timidly): "I don’t want that, I only want tickets…"
Sir Alistair (complimenting): "Your ambition is truly commendable…"

Chapter 3

“Say your name again,” Sir Alistair commanded, his tone dripping with condescension. As he spoke, he realized that he and David were too far apart in height for his intimidation tactic to work, so he climbed onto a chair to gain some altitude, repeating, “Say your name again…”
David remained unfazed by his boss's arrogance, maintaining an easy-going demeanor. With a warm smile, he replied honestly, “David Keel, Mr. Houghton…”
“Just call me Sir Alistair,” he grimaced, pouting slightly. “Fine, damn it, Lady Kayla handed you over to me, so just be a good servant.”
He hopped down from the chair, trashing the commanding pose, and sat down with a air of entitlement, his legs crossed like a little aristocrat.
The pipsqueak's overt dominance didn’t astonish David one bit. He simply leaned slightly forward and asked patiently, “What would you like, sir? Juice or…”
“Wine, damn it, wine.” Sir Alistair interrupted rudely, embodying the temperamental child he was.
David glanced at the tapping Brandon the Blonde, who was hopping around impatiently, yet maintained his unflappable composure. “How about some fruit wine? Ingram just brewed a fresh batch, and I’ve heard it comes from the very tree you love.”
“Really?” Little Mr. Houghton uncrossed his legs in curiosity, leaning to peek out the window only to remember his status midway, quickly turning back with a stubborn pout. “Just get back to work.”
“Of course, sir.” David bowed lightly and stepped away.
Sir Alistair fixed his eyes on the door as David exited, then scampered to the window. Pressing his face against the glass, he stared at the tree where Lady Kayla used to push him on the swings, his eyes brimming with tears. “Lady Kayla… look, I’ve taken your butler—why didn’t you tell me one last time before you left?”
With teary eyes, he mournfully muttered, “You said you loved me, and that must’ve been a lie… such a liar! You’re definitely going to get ugly one day.”
Imagining his beautiful Lady Kayla growing ugly filled him with sorrow. He shrugged his shoulders, declaring, “Okay, even if you don’t get ugly, you’ll surely get a little chubby…”
Sitting down on the floor, he sighed sadly, “You’ve left me too heartbroken.”
With his gaze downward, he began tracing little animals on the floor that Lady Kayla had taught him to draw—one was a lion, and another a gorilla.
A light knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He lifted his gaze and spotted the Tall American, bending gracefully with a food tray in hand, asking, “May I come in, sir?”
“Of course.” He sniffed and raised his chin in a show of confidence.
David approached, kneeling on one knee to present the tray.
Sir Alistair picked up a glass from the tray, wiping his slightly stuffy nose with his hand.
“Sir…” A soft voice chimed, along with a pristine white handkerchief appearing before him.
Sir Alistair snatched the handkerchief swiftly, rubbing his nose a few times before handing it back to David. “Thanks.”
After taking a sip of the vibrant, colorful concoction, he found it tangy and sweet—just how he liked it. Thirsty as he was, he tipped his head back and drained the glass in one go.
The last gulp caught in his throat, producing a gassy belch tinged with a mix of sweetness and acidity. Wide-eyed and full of energy, he turned to David and declared, “Alright, my butler, pack your bags. We’re heading back to America tomorrow afternoon.”
With that, he continued to belch joyfully, each one smaller than the last.
With his dazzling golden hair, dreamlike green eyes, and a bratty demeanor, it was hard for David to deny that Sir Alistair—little Mr. Houghton—had a rough charm that made him a lovable little rascal.

Chapter 4

Sir Alistair Houghton arrived in America clad in a sharp, tailored suit, his charming bow tie perfectly in place, with his butler trailing behind.
From this point forward, Sir Alistair would need to draw his allowance from his butler, a far more palatable arrangement than accepting money from his disgraced father—a man known for his misconduct. At least he wouldn’t have to drag a lawyer along each time he visited his father, which had always felt like a burdensome chore, robbing him of his leisure time.
Upon his arrival, Sir Alistair carried with him a pocket watch he had acquired with the last allowance from Lady Kayla—a relic once belonging to a debauched duke from British royal history. He planned to gift it to his beloved college roommate, a pleasant-faced Chinese boy named Lord Hawthorne, who was also of the same age.
As he entered the dorm of his new school, he leapt onto the bed of the now somewhat dashing Chinese boy. Lord Hawthorne was skipping class and indulging in a nap. Sir Alistair pulled out the pocket watch and exclaimed, “Check this out! Is this what you mentioned?”
The handsome Chinese boy glanced at the watch, nodded in acknowledgment, then leaned closer to Sir Alistair and asked, “Who’s that behind you?”
Not particularly bothered, Sir Alistair turned and brushed a kiss on Lord Hawthorne's cheek, “The butler.”
The still groggy Chinese boy stretched, wrapping his arms around Sir Alistair, and yawned softly, “Oh.”
“My mother has passed away,” Sir Alistair said, holding his dearest friend, feeling a wave of melancholy wash over him.
The Chinese boy turned to the butler, wearing a polite expression, kissed Sir Alistair's head, and said softly, “She’s always in your heart.”
“I need to find a way to go back, regardless of what she might have thought; she could be so stubborn that it wouldn’t matter if I listened to her or not,” he lamented.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you,” the Chinese boy replied, regret in his voice. He had once attempted to help Sir Alistair escape America but had failed.
“It’s not your fault,” Sir Alistair sighed. “When we grow up and have some money, we can buy a plane and go wherever we please. But for now, we must bear with it.”
The Chinese boy nodded, then complained, “We should buy two planes, just in case you want to switch destinations halfway; you’re not the type who would want to always go where I go.”
Sir Alistair agreed, “Alright then, but it’s not that I don’t want to join you; you just think my preferences don’t matter, yet sometimes I am right.”
Lord Hawthorne grimaced, “You just got back, do we really have to quarrel?”
“Are you hungry?”
“A little,” he replied, patting his stomach. “I had to give all of yesterday’s allowance to the dorm supervisor as punishment, so I slept to avoid feeling hungry.”
Sympathetically, Sir Alistair touched his stomach and kissed his thin face. “I’ll ask the butler for some money. Let’s go out for a proper meal.”
“Will you give me some cash, Mr. Butler?” Sir Alistair asked politely, his youthful voice bright.
“Of course, sir,” David Keel replied, bowing slightly, his ocean-blue eyes shimmering with warmth.

Chapter 5

The sun rose slowly over the horizon like a graceful debutante, casting a serene glow over the English manor that stood beneath its light.
In the luxurious villa, a tall, handsome man moved silently down a long corridor adorned with murals, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. He approached the master bedroom at the end of the hall, the calmness of his demeanor slightly disrupted as he gazed at the curled-up figure buried under the covers.
From beneath the cocoon of blankets, a golden-haired boy emerged like a sleepy tortoise, blinking several times to shake off the remnants of sleep. With strikingly handsome features, he groaned, “I want to stay in bed; Hugh wouldn't wake me up this early.”
David, the ever-gracious and composed butler, offered a warm towel with a smile. “Sir, what kind of breakfast would you prefer? English, American, or perhaps something Chinese?”
“I don’t need anything…” the striking boy murmured, cradling his head in his hands, “David, let me sleep…”
“You need to get up for class,” David insisted kindly.
“Damn it.” Sir Alistair pounded the blankets in frustration without raising his head, his face still buried in the pillow.
Watching the daily performance of his young master’s reluctance to rise, the impeccably perfect butler retained his patience. Leaning closer, he said softly next to Sir Alistair’s golden locks, “I’ve prepared your favorite rose petal soup…”
The fragrant aroma of the carefully crafted fish broth, simmered for three days, seemed to fill the air. Annoyed, the golden-haired boy sprang up from the bed. “David, I want to fire you! You understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” David replied steadily, continuing to gently wipe the towel across Alistair's face.
“Stop using this trick to lure me out of bed; it’s disrespectful, David. I won’t allow you to do this to me again, do you hear my command?” Sir Alistair chastised, his voice tinged with mock seriousness.
“Of course, Sir.” David swiftly helped him out of his simple silk pajamas and into a crisp white shirt.
With a comfortable yawn and his eyes partially closed, Sir Alistair extended his hand and said, “Alright, David, I want Chinese breakfast. Make an extra portion; I want to take it to Hugh.”
“Yes, Sir.” David bent down to assist him with his shoes.
As Sir Alistair sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at his butler who was calmly kneeling, he declared, “You don’t have to wait for me to come back for dinner tonight; I’m going to the ball.”
“Of course, Sir. What time should I expect you back? I’d like to prepare a late-night snack for you,” David smiled slightly, his movements sleek and graceful, perfectly demonstrating his capabilities as a top-tier butler.
“Not necessary. I’ll be staying at Hugh's.” Sir Alistair rose from the bed, walking to the bathroom to pick up his toothbrush, already prepared with toothpaste. “I’m giving you a day off. Go find a pretty girl for a date instead of following me around all day, damn it, David.”

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