trifle to me. I assure you, it was not. And I also assure you that I am not in the habit of bedding anonymous men. Let me just say that I…I needed something that particular night, and you gave it to me. It was no trifle.”
Henry stared at Richard’s open, honest eyes. The world around them seemed to fade even farther into the gray fog. Richard was so… What was it? It was not just that the man was handsome. Henry was not that shallow. It was something else, much else, and he could not place his finger on it. It was something that made him want to be closer.
“Tell me your name, Henry,” Richard whispered, drawing near. “Let us spend some time together.”
Cortland. Henry Cortland, the Earl of Brenleigh. Yes … “I’m not sure…”
“You want to. I know it.” Richard reached across the distance and placed his hand on Henry’s arm. The contact sent his blood racing and his mind working. He could, couldn’t he? At least just for a while.
“You can trust me,” Richard continued. “Absolutely, no matter where anything may lead. I would never—”
“Ho, Richard!” a boisterous voice called in greeting. A group of three riders became visible through the fog, moving at a trot.
At the sight of them, Henry’s breath stuck in his throat. Fear crawled up his spine like a hideous exotic insect. No. No!
“Damn it all!” Richard cursed under his breath.
“Afraid I must be off, then,” Henry said in a loud, jovial tone, for it was all he could do to control his voice. “Have an engagement I can’t miss, you know.”
Henry turned his mount in a tight circle, straining the bridle in poor Bogs’s mouth. He wanted to unleash the animal and bolt, but he kept his calm and set a quick trot away from the men he did not know and the one man whom he desperately wanted to. The sound of happy greetings and laughs faded into the fog behind him.
By the time he reached the north gate and allowed Bogs to walk again, his fine linen shirt was soaked through with sweat.
RICHARD WAS BESIDE himself with fury. He wanted to whip his riding crop across Samuel Shaw’s sneering face, but since he could not possibly give any justified reason for such an act, he resisted. The other two men were Mr. Charles Bolling and Sir William Shrap, respectively. Both decent men whom Richard knew tolerably well from his club.
“Must say I’m surprised to see you out, Avery,” Sir William said. “Damned surprised to see anyone at this hour, and in this weather.”
“I rather enjoy the fog,” Richard said with a forced smile. “Though I will take the country variety over this coal dust anytime.”
Mr. Bolling sighed. “Damned Season. Would that I could just return to my estate and be done with this city. You and Shaw here might like the action of town, but I can leave it all the same.”
Discussing the weather when no other topic presented itself was so ingrained in the training of every gentleman that it was likely Mr. Bolling and Sir William didn’t notice the stiffness of the scene. But Shaw and Richard noticed. Richard shot him a glare and saw that Shaw was looking with great intensity down the path behind Richard.
“Who was that with you, Avery?” said Shaw.
“No one,” Richard snapped. “An old university acquaintance.”
“Mmm.” Shaw shrugged, but his eyes stayed down the path, his brow wrinkling quite curiously.
Richard had not forgotten the incident between him and Julian four days ago, nor Sir Samuel Shaw’s part in it. He could still see Shaw in the dim light of the gambling hell, taking grand delight in the prospect that his tryst with Julian had amounted to some kind of cuckolding of Richard.
“Well, I continue on,” Richard said soberly. “I have an appointment past the south side of the park.”
“Off to Dorlet’s, old boy? Pity,” Shaw drawled.
Richard went stock-still in his saddle. It took a second to recover and another second to see that both Bolling and Sir William were looking between
Henry stared at Richard’s open, honest eyes. The world around them seemed to fade even farther into the gray fog. Richard was so… What was it? It was not just that the man was handsome. Henry was not that shallow. It was something else, much else, and he could not place his finger on it. It was something that made him want to be closer.
“Tell me your name, Henry,” Richard whispered, drawing near. “Let us spend some time together.”
Cortland. Henry Cortland, the Earl of Brenleigh. Yes … “I’m not sure…”
“You want to. I know it.” Richard reached across the distance and placed his hand on Henry’s arm. The contact sent his blood racing and his mind working. He could, couldn’t he? At least just for a while.
“You can trust me,” Richard continued. “Absolutely, no matter where anything may lead. I would never—”
“Ho, Richard!” a boisterous voice called in greeting. A group of three riders became visible through the fog, moving at a trot.
At the sight of them, Henry’s breath stuck in his throat. Fear crawled up his spine like a hideous exotic insect. No. No!
“Damn it all!” Richard cursed under his breath.
“Afraid I must be off, then,” Henry said in a loud, jovial tone, for it was all he could do to control his voice. “Have an engagement I can’t miss, you know.”
Henry turned his mount in a tight circle, straining the bridle in poor Bogs’s mouth. He wanted to unleash the animal and bolt, but he kept his calm and set a quick trot away from the men he did not know and the one man whom he desperately wanted to. The sound of happy greetings and laughs faded into the fog behind him.
By the time he reached the north gate and allowed Bogs to walk again, his fine linen shirt was soaked through with sweat.
RICHARD WAS BESIDE himself with fury. He wanted to whip his riding crop across Samuel Shaw’s sneering face, but since he could not possibly give any justified reason for such an act, he resisted. The other two men were Mr. Charles Bolling and Sir William Shrap, respectively. Both decent men whom Richard knew tolerably well from his club.
“Must say I’m surprised to see you out, Avery,” Sir William said. “Damned surprised to see anyone at this hour, and in this weather.”
“I rather enjoy the fog,” Richard said with a forced smile. “Though I will take the country variety over this coal dust anytime.”
Mr. Bolling sighed. “Damned Season. Would that I could just return to my estate and be done with this city. You and Shaw here might like the action of town, but I can leave it all the same.”
Discussing the weather when no other topic presented itself was so ingrained in the training of every gentleman that it was likely Mr. Bolling and Sir William didn’t notice the stiffness of the scene. But Shaw and Richard noticed. Richard shot him a glare and saw that Shaw was looking with great intensity down the path behind Richard.
“Who was that with you, Avery?” said Shaw.
“No one,” Richard snapped. “An old university acquaintance.”
“Mmm.” Shaw shrugged, but his eyes stayed down the path, his brow wrinkling quite curiously.
Richard had not forgotten the incident between him and Julian four days ago, nor Sir Samuel Shaw’s part in it. He could still see Shaw in the dim light of the gambling hell, taking grand delight in the prospect that his tryst with Julian had amounted to some kind of cuckolding of Richard.
“Well, I continue on,” Richard said soberly. “I have an appointment past the south side of the park.”
“Off to Dorlet’s, old boy? Pity,” Shaw drawled.
Richard went stock-still in his saddle. It took a second to recover and another second to see that both Bolling and Sir William were looking between
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