Our Secret

Chapter One

Thomas leaned against the railing of the balcony that was steps outside the study where Alex and James were sipping whiskey and heatedly debating something. Thomas had wandered away from the conversation a while ago, needing fresh air. He looked out at the horizon and the setting sun. A crisp, gentle breeze of autumn air caressed his cheek. He heard one of the French doors open and turned around to see who was interrupting his solitude. A slow smile crept over his face. "Philip." He dipped his head in acknowledgment.

"Oh... I'm sorry, Mr. Jefferson. I didn't know there was anyone else out here." He started to reach for the door handle.

"You don't have to go young Hamilton. It is a lovely night. I don't mind the company."

"I would have thought you came out here to be alone, sir."

Jefferson smirked. "I came out here for the same reason as you, I suspect." Philip looked like he didn't understand. Thomas narrowed his eyes. "To get away from your father's ceaseless prattle for a moment."

"Yeah..." A laugh escaped from Philip until he caught himself. "I mean, no. My father-"

"Now now, Philip. You don't have to explain. I know your father well enough."

Philip bit his lower lip and looked at the ground. Thomas sauntered over to him and tipped his chin up with his finger. "No need to inspect your feet, sir." He looked into the younger man's eyes. They were greener up close than he had noticed over dinner. He tried not to stare at them too long. "Not when we have a glorious sky above us." He put his arm loosely around Philip's shoulders and gestured flamboyantly at the heavens. "Look at how the stars are coming out to play against the darkening cosmos. They twinkle just for us while the others inside argue over the trivial matters of man."

Philip raised his eyebrows and smiled a little. Thomas talked like he was creating a painting with words. It was the opposite of his father who seemingly poured the entire dictionary into every sentence, lest his audience doubt for a moment his intellect or passion. "It's beautiful."

Jefferson shifted his gaze to Philip. "Indeed." He let his arm drop. There was much he wanted to ask the boy but he didn't wish to intimidate him. He walked back to the railing and draped himself over it. "I suppose they'll be calling us in for dessert soon."

Philip looked at him, wondering if anyone else could carry off the gold-trimmed, burgundy velvet ensemble Jefferson was wearing. Most likely no. It certainly worked on Thomas though. He realized the other man had said something. "I'm sorry what?"

Thomas smirked. "Never mind, Philip." He let his eyes travel up and down Philip's narrow frame. "You have quite an eye for style. You must get it from your mother."

"Thank you... Wait." He stopped short and Thomas laughed. Philip joined him, shaking his head. "You two really argue about everything, huh?"

"Not everything." Now it was Thomas's turn to look at the ground. "We both think you are quite an intelligent, virtuous young lad. I cannot wait to see the man you will grow up to be."

"Sir?" Philip's voice was soft.

Thomas didn't answer, for once not quick with a pithy quip. As he began to form a reply, he was cut off by Eliza calling from inside.

"Guess our moonlit chat will have to be postponed, young Hamilton."

Philip regarded him and gave him a small smile. "Until next time, Mister Jefferson." He nodded and ducked back inside.

Thomas narrowed his eyes and smiled. "I certainly hope so." he whispered to himself, walking slowly inside.art writing