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Cyril was sure to keep his rushed breathing in check as he silently closed one of the many back doors to the Pearcival mansion, leaning against it as he panted into the stagnant air of the mudroom. His restlessness had gotten the better of him again, but he truly was trying to cut back on that habit... So he'd taken to fleeing out to the stables and stealing his father's prized showhorse for a hard ride through the property until the animal could run no more.
Cyril's hair was mussed and sweat shone on his brow from the humid summer night, but he felt pleasantly tired, and a smile curved the corners of his mouth. He'd need to clean himself up before morning of the dust and horsehair and sweat, or the maids might wonder about him, kind, cooing souls that they were. It wasn't as if they could not keep a secret, for they not-so-secretly liked Cyril much more than Gerard Pearcival, the one responsible for their everyday chores. Cyril had an air of self-suficiency about him that the maids found charming, even a bit more than charming, on a few occasions...
Cyril finally caught his breath and pushed off the door, running a hand through his dark hair as he slowly made his way to his bedroom to retrieve a change of clothes. He had closed that back door, he remembered to himself. Though, that door had always been a tricky one...
[6]