The youngest, most ridiculously attractive butler Benedict had ever seen answered the door, eyes lighting with recognition at the sight of him. The man was like every other servant in this house—beautiful to look at, with the snug fit of his livery flaunting sinewy muscle and brawn. Benedict had to admire the dedication to such an aesthetic.
“Is Lady Dane at home?” he asked.
“She is, Mr. Sterling,” the butler replied, widening the door in welcome. “In fact, she has been expecting a call from you. Right this way.”
Benedict chose to remain in his greatcoat, the chill of a winter’s afternoon clinging to him, though he did remove his hat. He held it in one hand while following the butler to a drawing room. Once the butler announced him, he was ushered into a chamber that, at first glance, looked to be one of elegant taste and style. However, as one took a closer look, the licentious decor made itself apparent. Red wallpaper with gold leaf turned the sunlight streaming through the windows into a pink haze. Erotic paintings hung from them, depicting couples, threesomes, and outright orgies of people engaged in voluptuous acts. Marble and stone statues sat on pedestals about the room, strategically placed to be seen from every angle. They were even more shocking than the paintings in the stark whiteness and multidimensional portrayal of every sexual act imaginable.
In the center of the room, lounging on a sofa and lingering over a scattering of fashion plates, was Lady Millicent Dane. Her blue eyes glittered, and her rouged lips stretched into a genuine smile at the sight of him. Her lush proportions were encased in a simple dressing-gown of black damask, which made the milky hue of her skin and white-gold of her hair appear ethereal. Her feet, covered in dainty slippers, peeked out from beneath the hem.
Millicent didn’t bat an eyelash at the notion of him seeing her thus undressed, but that had nothing to do with her knowledge of his predilections. The woman was unashamed of her sexual nature, and shunned the strictures of a society that would tell her she could not receive a friend dressed in something that covered more skin than most of her ball gowns.
“Ben, darling! I’d been hoping you would pay me a visit.”
“So I was told,” he said while sinking onto the loveseat facing her sofa, with a low table between them. “New butler?”
Her grin grew wicked as her gaze darted toward the door, which hung ajar to reveal the figure of the butler striding by. “Isn’t he delectable? The entire household is enamored with him already, though I cannot decide whether the women want him more, or the men.”
Benedict chuckled. “And what does Peter think of him?”
Millicent’s smile grew wistful at the mention of her body servant and longtime lover. Peter had begun his service in her house as a footman, but he had soon earned her favor, then eventually her heart. Benedict didn’t quite understand their arrangement—knowing only that Millicent’s dominant nature meant the man was willing to do anything she asked, no matter how debasing. The two had no boundaries to their tastes and were known to share lovers of both sexes whenever the mood struck. However, despite there being no benefit of marriage, he’d never seen a pair more dedicated to one another than Millicent and Peter. The servant loved his mistress, and Benedict liked to believe she loved him back.
“Peter is the most enamored of all. They’ve been trading lingering looks all week. I do believe he’d be amenable to … an additional duty along with all his others.”
Benedict couldn’t help but envy men like Peter and this butler, who were capable of feeling desire for both men and women. For his part, while he could admire a woman’s beauty or form, his appreciation of the fair sex ended there. He had long ago accepted who he was, but couldn’t pretend life wouldn’t be easier for him if he could conjure the slightest interest in a woman. It would protect him from ruin, solidify his viscountcy when the time came to inherit, keep him from having to hide who he was, living a lie every day. Apparently, Alex shared this trait with Peter, for he’d had no problem joining with a woman in marriage. Thinking of Alex consummating the union, enjoying the attentions of a wife in the dark, and taking pleasure from it made Benedict’s chest ache. The thought of Alex being intimate and tender with a doting wife hurt more than Benedict wanted to acknowledge. It baffled him to realize that Alex still held such power over him. Even after turning him away twice, Benedict still felt an acute agony at the thought of what could never be.
Seeming to sense that his thoughts had taken a disagreeable turn, Millicent sat up straight, feet touching the floor as she pushed her fashion plates aside. “Something is wrong.”
“No … yes. My father arrived this morning.”
Millicent pulled a face, knowing full well the sins the viscount had committed against Benedict. “My condolences. Would you like to take a room here until he leaves? I don’t care who he is; he would not be allowed over the threshold. I have an army of footmen who could toss him out on his ear on a moment’s notice.”
“Thank you, but no. I refuse to be intimidated into leaving my own home.”
“Good show.”
“I do have another request to make of you.”
Her eyes widened in realization. “You are ready to act on the information I gave you.”
“I am. There is a ball this evening in the home of the Duke and Duchess of Avonleah.”
“Yes, darling, the duke and his wife are dear friends of mine.”
“So, you’ve been invited.”
“Of course. Weren’t you invited?”
“No. But, Avonleah doesn’t strike me as one to shun a man with a bad reputation.”
Millicent snorted. “Hardly. He was once the biggest rake in London. The duchess is a special woman, indeed, to have tamed him.”
“Do you suppose I could garner an invitation, if you were to request it? I take it she will be there.”
They both knew the ‘she’ he referred to, and Millicent’s jaw hardened in disdain. “Naturally. She sits quite far down the ladder of high society, but has made some influential friends. I wouldn’t be surprised to know she has blackmailed her way into higher circles. How else could she find herself invited to a ball in the home of a duke?”
It was something Benedict had never considered, but it made perfect sense. The woman he remembered from his youth was the daughter of a gentleman with only a tenuous hold on respectability. She and her father had been willing to do anything to better their status. When using Benedict to do so hadn’t worked, she must have devised this London Gossip scheme as a way in. With the information she had on him, it stood to reason she knew many other secrets—the kinds of secrets she could use to bribe her way to the status she desired.
“How, indeed,” he murmured, lost in thought.
“Consider it done, darling. It is no trouble at all, and Avonleah would give me anything I wanted for an invitation to one of my parties. I’m hosting another Tuesday next, you know. I hope you will come. Perhaps it will prove a pleasant respite.”
“Perhaps. I can make no promises right now.”
“I understand. What else can I do to help?”
Rising to his feet, Benedict shook his head. “Nothing for now. You have already helped me so much. I could never repay you.”
Millicent stood, rounding the table and pulling him into an embrace. He had to crouch to meet her, bracing a hand at her back as she wrapped both arms around his shoulders and squeezed.
“You are one of the few people in this godforsaken city who accept me as I am,” she said. “That alone is enough to make me willing to do anything you ask. I am the one who owes you a debt of gratitude.”
“Nonsense,” Benedict insisted as they pulled apart. “You aren’t the only one grateful for accepting friends.”
She walked him to the drawing room door. “I will have your invitation delivered right away. If you need me at the ball, you have only to seek me out.”
Benedict took his leave with a half-hearted promise to do what Millicent had asked. However, he couldn’t explain why he would no
t take her up on such an offer. Only he could confront this unpleasant part of his past and lay it to rest once and for all.
The bell above the door to Rowland-Drake Linen-Drapery and Haberdashery tinkled as Alex pushed it open, entering an establishment that had grown and flourished during his absence from London. What had once been a small, one-room shop was now transformed. The removal of a wall had opened the ground floor of this building into one next door. The first main room overflowed with fabrics in an array of vibrant hues, and counter displays offered the necessary trimmings for various garments. Fashionable hats, gloves, shawls, and other accessories were artfully arranged in the newly attached room.
Searching the area, Alex caught the eye of the young man behind a large oak counter. He was tall and wiry, with smooth, light-brown skin, dark hair cropped close, and a pair of startlingly vibrant green eyes. The combined parentage of a black parent and a white one dueled for dominance on his face.
“Welcome to Rowland-Drake, my lord. Might I help you find something? A gift for a lady perhaps … or fabric for a new waistcoat? I can see you’re a man of extraordinary taste.”
He dipped his head to indicate Alex’s waistcoat—a pale lavender silk printed with tiny silver fleur de lis. Alex smiled at the young man, obviously an assistant to the owner who was an old school friend of Alex’s. Apparently, Aubrey Drake had trained his protégé well.
“Perhaps in a moment,” Alex replied, eying a jade green fabric spilling from the massive rolls mounted to the wall. “But first, I wondered if Mr. Drake might be in this afternoon?”
“He is, my lord, but he’s very busy today preparing for a new shipment. I can inquire if he will see you.”
“He will. Simply tell him the Earl of Vautrey requires his attention.”
Instead of bustling off to deliver the message, the young man goggled at Alex in clear shock. “Lord Osborne, is that you? I mean … you said ‘earl’ so you must be Lord Vautrey now. My God, I thought you looked familiar.”
Alex furrowed his brow and took a close look at the assistant. No one called him Lord Osborne anymore, as his viscountcy had simply been a courtesy title until he’d inherited the earldom. His eyes widened as he realized what a dolt he’d been. The man’s features were too distinct to be forgotten, though the last time Alex had seen him, he’d been skinnier than he was tall and still carrying the softness of youth in his face. But the eyes didn’t lie. Before he was the shop assistant, Christopher Sanders had been a young apprentice in this very shop.
“Kit?” Alex blurted. “By Jove, look at you! The last time I saw you, you appeared as if a strong wind could carry you away!”
Kit rounded the counter and offered Alex a hand with an exuberant smile and a deep chuckle. Alex marveled at the depth of the voice he heard, unable to believe his eyes or his ears.
“Well, there have been quite a few changes around here,” Kit said while giving his hand a hearty shake.
“So I see,” he replied, glancing about the renovated shop. “Aubrey has done well for himself.”
“Not better than you, I see,” boomed a third voice from across the room.
Alex turned to find the man he’d come to see, coming from within a small back office. Aubrey Drake’s wide, white smile contrasted starkly against his dark-as-night skin. He hadn’t aged a day, though a few strands of gray salted the wool of his short, close-cropped hair. Standing as tall as Alex and as broad as Ben, Aubrey Drake was a sight for sore eyes. Alex hadn’t seen Aubrey since the day of his wedding, and had missed the company of one of his closest friends.
“Aubrey,” he murmured, emotion straining his voice as a handshake was transformed into a tight embrace. “I am so happy to see you.”
Aubrey pounded his back, then leaned back to stare Alex in the face. “The feeling is entirely mutual. I didn’t know you were in Town.”
Kit moved back to his place behind the counter, but looked on with a curious gaze as Aubrey drew Alex out of earshot.
“I only arrived two nights ago,” Alex said. “I didn’t want to impose on you while you are working, but I hoped you might have time for a word. I will not take up too much of your time.”
“Nonsense,” Aubrey insisted, already guiding him toward the open door of the office. “I have all the time in the world for you, my friend. Come, we’ll have a drink and—”
“Aubrey! Haven’t you heard me calling? I had hoped you could tell me what you think.”
The interrupting voice had been feminine, and Alex looked up in time to find a woman appearing from behind a curtain, the skirts of an unfinished gown swishing around her heels. She halted at the sight of Alex, cheeks flushing pink as her cerulean eyes darted from him to Aubrey.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she murmured, dipping into an elegant curtsy—one that could not be ruined by the pins and hanging bits of lace marking her gown as a work in progress. “I didn’t realize you had left your office, my love. Forgive me.”
Aubrey offered a soft smile, and Alex noted the clear affection in his eyes as he looked upon the woman. “There is nothing to apologize for, darling. Actually, I was going to send for you. I want you to meet one of my oldest friends. We attended Cambridge together. Lord Vautrey, my wife, Mrs. Lucinda Drake. Lucy, this is Lord Alexander Osborne, the Earl of Vautrey.”
“It is an honor to meet you, my lord,” Lucinda replied with a smile. “Though I would make a better impression in a gown that isn’t pieced together by pins.”
Alex took her hand and bowed over it. “Please, you must call me Alex … and you would make a grand impression dressed in rags.”
She smiled up at her husband. “Oh, I like him.”
Aubrey chuckled. “Always the charmer.”
“You shall call me Lucinda,” she said, turning back to Alex. “Aubrey has told me so many stories of his time at university, and many featured you. You, Dominick Burke, and … Benedict Sterling.”
Alex suppressed a flinch at the knowing look in her eyes. Aubrey and Ben had always been close, with Aubrey conscious of his and Ben’s preference for men. Of course Lucinda would know the truth about Ben. Aubrey would never have married a woman who wouldn’t be willing to know and accept his best friend.
“Yes, the three of us were inseparable,” Alex answered.
“What a shame that you have been away so long. Perhaps a reunion is in order now that you’ve returned to London.”
“All right, you busybody,” Aubrey quipped, gently taking Lucinda’s arm and steering her back toward the curtain. “Off you go. You look beautiful, and the gown is coming along nicely.”
Resisting Aubrey’s prodding, she glanced at Alex over her shoulder. “It was so lovely to have met you, Alex. Will you join us for dinner one evening?”
“I would be delighted,” he replied just before she disappeared in a billow of silk.
Following Aubrey into the office, Alex shook his head in disbelief. “Aubrey Drake … married. I never thought I would see the day.”
Aubrey rounded the desk to a small cabinet pushed into the corner, where a single decanter and four clean glasses rested. “I was once engaged,” he reminded Alex while trickling what smelled like brandy into two of the tumblers. “Surely you haven’t forgotten that.”
Alex accepted his drink and took one of the chairs facing the desk. He gave Aubrey a pointed look. “You and Philippa were ill-suited. While I was sorry to hear she cried off, I did have my reservations.”
Aubrey chuckled. “That’s what Ben said.”
Their mutual friend’s name fell between them like a ten-ton boulder, sending a wave of tense silence through the room. Alex stared into his glass, skin tingling with the phantom memory of being near Ben again—kissing him, touching him, breathing in the scent he knew so well and had longed for.
He took a drink and then cleared his throat, crossing one leg over the other and doing his best to appear unruffled. “Yes, well … Lucy seems lovely. You look happier than I think I’ve ever seen you.”
; Aubrey smiled, proving Alex’s point. The lines of strain that had once perpetually marred his brow had disappeared, and even with gray hairs at his temples, he looked younger and more content than ever. A prick of envy and longing reminded Alex that this might have been him had he chosen his path differently. However, he was here because he believed it wasn’t too late to have the future he’d always wanted.
“I am happy,” Aubrey said. “I suppose you’ve heard about Nick?”
Alex laughed. “I was even more surprised to hear of his nuptials than yours. I thought for sure he would die a bachelor—still chasing skirts until the bitter end.”
“You’ll understand when you meet Calliope. She’s a lovely woman and perfect for Nick. He’s a new man.”
“I am glad to hear it. I look forward to seeing him and meeting her.”
They grew silent again, Aubrey’s expression growing pensive as they sipped their brandy. After a while, he set his half-empty tumbler on the desk. “I was deeply sorry to hear about your countess. I had not realized she was ill.”
“She wasn’t,” Alex hedged, unwilling to divulge more than he was ready to. There were things he wanted Ben to know before he began speaking of Katherine to anyone else. “Her death was sudden and … and devastating.”
Aubrey’s sympathetic look also carried understanding. He had not known Katherine well, but knew how close she and Alex had been. While Alex hadn’t loved her as a husband should love a wife, their deep friendship had made their pretense of a marriage bearable. Having her to rely on had lessened the pain of losing Ben as much as was possible.
“Alex,” Aubrey began with a deep sigh. “I know why you’re here.”
Alex tensed, hearing the warning note in Aubrey’s voice. “You disapprove.”
“Not precisely. I think, were I in your shoes, I would have made the same decision. You love Ben and always have. You want him back.”
“More than anything,” he admitted, having no reason to hold back with Aubrey.
Chasing Benedict (The Gentleman Courtesans Book 5) Page 6