The Deception Of Alexander Riotan #wattys2016

Chapter One: Ghosts.

England, 1880.

The pungent London air stifled Alex's lungs. He leaned against the deck's railing, waiting for the initial rush of people to disembark, he was strangely lulled by the noise of the bustling crowds. 

Families embraced, workers handled cargo, the water and wind lashed at the ships like an angry serpent. 

Home. 

He tried the word inside his head.

 Alex had gladly said farewell to England years ago and maybe that's why the word felt so foreign. England might have been where he was born but America was where he was made. Regardless of how he felt, he had responsibilities in England, his sister was getting married. 

Calliope had been a child of twelve when he last saw her, but his father had sent him a letter saying that the Earl of Layton had offered for her hand. They hadn't finalized anything; they needed Alex back at England for appearances sake. Alex would've come anyway, he was the one that financed Callie's coming out in society and her seasons. He hadn't compromised on his family's financial needs. Callie hadn't, however, been the reason for his hasty journey. It had been a terse note:

I'm coming back.

Alex had been in a meeting with his board of directors at the New York office when a tiny scrap of an Atlas slipped from his folder. He thought he had accidentally acquired another's folder when his eye had caught on an elaborate symbol.

 It was a loopy, diagonal, R resting on an H. And it was drawn on the British aisles. 

It wasn't until one of his oldest friends, Matthew, had called his name. Alex's whole body had gone cold. He herded the board out with nothing more than a few curt words of an apology.

"I'm worried you'll start pounding at us with a broom." Matthew had, laughingly, remarked at Alex's scowl when the board members milled in the doorway.

 He didn't even smile at the absurd image that Matthew painted because it was very close to the truth. Alex had already notified his servants to start packing while he waited in his library, burning holes in the signature. It had taken him a scant second to recognize it even after all these years; the damn H and R and what they stood for.

A flashback of a boy with a mop of brown hair and rosy cheeks had crossed his mind; head bent, scratching those two letters on the corner of his Latin notes.

Hunter.

Alex jarred himself from his reverie; the crowd had thinned considerably below him. 

His Valet, Will, was already down with an awaiting carriage, and Alex made his way down to find him. 

His height and expensive clothing earned him watchful looks; his stride was deceptively lazy.

 He subtly scanned the sea of faces that parted for him; he might have been away mingling with the high flying New York society but he still didn't forget the dangers of the docks.

Why would he surface after all this time?

Alex wasn't even sure if Hunter was alive.

Orion Riotan, commonly referred to by his family and close friends as Hunter, was the second son of the Duke of Riotan. Hunter was the middle child among the siblings of three, with dark brown locks contrasting to his older brother's and younger sister's fair blonde ones. 

Growing up, the two brothers had been equally different in their temperament. While Alex enjoyed the prestige of being the heir, Hunter had always been weighed with the responsibility of supporting himself refusing to take his brother's money.