Chapter 2
The ornate hand-crafted table in Blackwell Oberlin’s dining room reeked of the Renaissance, as did the stuffed blue chairs, though the tapestry on Oberlin’s walls were more fourteenth century with a less gilded vibe.
His tailor stretched the blue velvet fabric of his jacket across his muscular frame, the man having caught up to him as he’d tried to leave the palace for some fresh air. His father’s ducal outfit suffocated him.
“Wait, just a tuck here, my lord. Do you mind taking off your undershirt?”
Trapped. The man staring back at him from the gold mirror over the dining table could be an actor playing the part of Avce’s Duke of Oakley but inside his gut he yearned for the wide open fields of Colorado and the old family farm.
Woodbridge Hall was the opposite; contained, ref
