Alex had realized some time ago that he couldn’t live without Ben. He was also weary of having to sneak about, finding places to be together for a short time before returning to the facades of their lives. Giving up the earldom had been difficult, but he would sacrifice far more for the privilege of having Ben by his side for the rest of his days.
Ben had needed very little convincing to go along with Alex’s plan. His brothers had died the year before in a terrible accident, making Ben his father’s heir. However, Ben was unlike Alex in that he hadn’t been prepared to inherit, nor did he wish to. His hatred for Viscount Sterling made it easy to leave without a look back.
Alex had begun to pace, anxious for the moment he could slip away with his parents none the wiser. A knock at the door interrupted his reverie, causing his heartbeat to accelerate. Alex had shared dinner with his parents earlier, and their time of quiet reading and nightcaps had ended hours ago. He’d insisted he not be disturbed, and Hamond helped ensure the rest of the staff was made aware of this.
So, who was at his door and why were they here?
A sense of foreboding made Alex’s heart sink into his stomach, and his hand shook as he opened the door.
A footman gave Alex a curt bow before informing him that his father had sent for him. “He’s waiting in his study and wishes to see you at once.”
Swallowing the acidic bile rising in his throat, Alex kept his face free of all expression as he dismissed the footman. Running his fingers through his hair, Alex closed the door and leaned his forehead against it. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, telling himself that he hadn’t been caught. No one but Hamond knew of his plans, and the valet was loyal to Alex and had his own secrets to keep. Alex couldn’t imagine that the man would have betrayed him.
This was nothing to be worried over. His father likely wanted to speak to him about some trivial matter. Perhaps he couldn’t sleep and wanted Alex to join him for a cigar. Maybe there was an estate matter he wanted Alex’s opinion on.
Yes, that was it. Alex pulled away from the door and forced his feet to move—wanting to get this over with, and hoping that his father would turn in soon so he could depart. If he didn’t leave tonight, Ben would be forced to wait a day or more for Alex to arrive.
Despite having convinced himself that he was still safe, Alex grew nauseous, his limbs sapped of strength. He couldn’t ignore the premonition telling him that something was terribly wrong.
It was easy enough to determine why he’d been summoned once Alex entered his father’s study. The earl sat behind his desk with a stack of folded papers before him, his head resting in his hands. But, it wasn’t his father that drew Alex’s attention, but the third person standing near the hearth, staring at Alex as if he were a pile of excrement.
His anxiety heightened when he met the gaze of Lord Malcolm Sterling. The viscount was a handsome man, having passed his looks down to Ben, as well as his Corinthian frame. The subtle difference between father and son was in the eyes. Ben had bright, clear eyes that twinkled with mischief, laughter, and secrets. By contrast, Viscount Sterling possessed the coldest, deadest eyes Alex had ever seen. And just now, they clearly radiated hatred and scorn as he looked at Alex, his lips pinched tight.
Tearing his gaze away from Ben’s father, Alex faced his own. “Father? You wanted to see me?”
The earl kept his head lowered, shaking it from side to side as he murmured in a broken voice, “Not my son … it can’t be true. Where did I go wrong?”
Alex’s throat constricted, and he could hardly draw breath. Yet he remained aware of Viscount Sterling’s presence, and did his best not to show it outwardly.
“Father, what’s wrong?” He turned back to the viscount, a sudden thought occurring to him. “Has something happened to Ben?”
Even as he asked, he knew it to be a ridiculous question. The viscount wouldn’t care enough to inform Ben’s closest friends of an injury or death. There was only one reason he could be here, but Alex didn’t want to be the one to bring it up.
His father slowly raised his head, staring at Alex with reddened eyes and a trembling chin. “Alex … the viscount has brought me disturbing news. I was certain it couldn’t be true, but … this is your handwriting.”
Alex felt as if he’d been punched squarely in the chest as his father pushed the papers across his desk. They were unfolded, revealing his meticulous handwriting, his words. The lines swam before his unfocused eyes—words he knew by heart. The letters were deeply intimate, the revelations of his heart and mind. He and Ben had never used their names out of an abundance of caution, referring to one another as ‘My dearest,’ ‘My darling,’ or simply ‘sweetheart.’ The contents, however, were unmistakable. No one reading them would ever think they’d been penned from a man to a woman.
That these letters were now in his father’s possession meant they had been found out. It wouldn’t be difficult, in the face of such evidence, to deduce who Ben’s secret lover was. They had spent nearly every break from Eton and Cambridge together, and even Sterling had to know how close they were. Perhaps the viscount had suspected them all along, and the letters merely served as proof.
Alex fumbled for words but found none. The accusation in his father’s eyes and the viscount’s imposing presence told him he wouldn’t be believed if he tried to explain this away.
“There, you see?” Sterling said, approaching from across the room. “He doesn’t deny it. My son couldn’t either when I confronted him with what I had found. And it was none too soon, for I discovered that he has left the city and taken most of his possessions with him. I suspect you will find Alex’s things packed in preparation for this same journey. I know very well what Benedict is up to. He has corrupted your son, turned him into a twisted, immoral sodomite!”
“That isn’t true!” Alex blurted without thinking. “That wasn’t the way of it. Your son isn’t twisted or broken. He is a good man, and you treat him as if he is undeserving of your love. But he isn’t, and if I’m the only one who can see that, then so be it!”
He closed his mouth then, realizing too late that he’d said too much. Alex hadn’t been able to hold his tongue, enraged at the insinuation that he was so weak-minded that someone could warp him beyond his own nature. If anything, Alex had been the one to push and prod, to coax Ben into accepting the truth about himself.
“Something must be done,” the viscount insisted. “They are our heirs and have a duty to their good names and the titles they will inherit. Benedict wasn’t born my heir, but much to my distaste, fate has placed him in a position to gain everything that is mine. I won’t have my estate going to a man who takes up with mollies!”
Alex’s father had been silent all this time, staring unseeingly across the room, but at this assertion, he blinked and shook his head. Staring at Alex, his grieved expression hardened into resolution, his hands clenched into fists.
“He’s right,” the earl said, coming to his feet. “You have been corrupted, and perhaps that failure is my own. I didn’t do enough to teach you what it is to be a man, hoping that a gentleman’s education would be enough. Clearly, you require further guidance. It is up to me to take you in hand.”
Before Alex could argue that he was beyond the age of his majority and not required to do as his father dictated, the viscount cut in.
“What he needs is a wife … the both of them do. I have selected someone suitable enough for Benedict, but he will not wed her if he thinks he still has a chance to ensnare your son in his plans.”
Alex’s mouth fell open as the two men went on discussing he and Ben as if they were children and not grown men, making plans of their own. “Have you gone mad? Neither Ben nor I will be forced into anything!”
“Yes,” the earl agreed, addressing the viscount as if he hadn’t heard Alex’s exclamation. “Alex should marry as soon as possible. Once it is done, you would do well to keep your son away from mine.”
The viscount clenched his hands,
his knuckles cracking ominously as he offered a menacing smile. “I will ensure that he does. Perhaps it would be best if your son and his bride vacate London. Distance should do well enough to cool them of their sinful passions.”
“I won’t do it,” Alex argued. “Do you hear? I will not let you plan my future as if I am some milksop!”
The viscount stepped closer, a vein in his forehead pulsing with rage. “You will marry, and you will do it willingly. If you refuse—”
“Have a care, Sterling,” his father warned, rounding the desk to stand between them. “You may treat your son as you see fit, but I will not see mine threatened in his own home.”
Sterling sneered at the earl. “My threat doesn’t concern Alex’s well-being, but if he doesn’t marry the lady of your choosing, Benedict’s life will be made quite unpleasant.”
“You son of a—”
Alex’s outburst was cut short as his father’s arm shot out to hold him back just as he was about to advance on the viscount. Sterling watched him with cruel amusement twisting his lips. The man would surely have pummeled him into mincemeat, but Alex didn’t care. The threat to Benedict was too real, and Alex knew the viscount was cruel enough to truly make his son suffer.
“Have you ever been to Bedlam, boy?” the viscount taunted. “Ever seen the cramped cells the insane are kept in, heard their screams of torture as they are burned and drowned and beaten?”
Alex’s stomach curled at the image of Ben in such a place, desperation clawing up from the depths of his soul. He had to find a way out of this for them both. All couldn’t be lost. They still had a chance. Alex had to believe that, else he might succumb to despair.
“You would never have Ben declared insane,” Alex replied. “If word spread that the Sterling heir was a madman, they might speculate as to the cause. Perhaps he was born that way … perhaps it is in his blood, passed down by his father.”
“I would rather have the ton speculate over my bloodline than allow my title to pass to that deranged gomorrhean! And I’ll take the Vautrey name down with me if I must!”
“No!” the earl exclaimed, panic raising the pitch of his voice. “That will not be necessary. We’ll do it. Alex will be married within the next month. And you will instruct your son to stay away from mine, or there will be consequences.”
“Father!” Alex cut in.
“No,” his father replied, mouth firm with determination. “I have allowed you to act as you please for far too long. It is time for you to bow to the responsibilities of being my heir.”
“The choice is yours,” Sterling added. “Either find a respectable lady to settle down with, or I will have your lover committed to an asylum for the rest of his days, and word will spread through society that the future Earl of Vautrey is a filthy buggerer.”
“That will not be necessary,” the earl interjected, his voice quavering with panic. “We will do it. Give us time.”
Alex’s eyes began to sting with coming tears, but he held them back, refusing to give the viscount the satisfaction. He turned to walk away without a word, needing to be alone. He needed time to develop a new plan, but it would seem he didn’t have long. Alex would stay awake as long as it took; he would not lay his head down before he’d figured out a way to free both he and Ben from this trap.
As he entered the corridor, he faintly registered the viscount’s voice.
“If I do not see a betrothal notice in the papers by the end of the week, I will take that as a refusal and act accordingly.”
“You dare to stand here and threaten my son—”
“A threat will seem like nothing compared to facing the hangman’s noose,” the viscount bellowed, cutting the earl’s outburst short. “You would do well to remember that. You might outrank me, but I have the upper hand here. Do as I’ve demanded, and your precious son will be safe.”
Alex fled to his chambers, the tears finally falling once he was alone. Hamond had made himself scarce. Perhaps word had spread among the staff of the viscount’s visit, in which case his valet likely knew what was going on. Sinking to the floor, Alex leaned against his door and fought the hysteria tearing him up inside. He felt like a cornered animal, uncertain whether it was best to fight or surrender lest he be ripped to shreds. Being destroyed might not be so bad; Alex liked to think himself resilient. But Ben … he could never allow anything bad to befall the person he loved most. If he risked defying both their fathers, Ben would suffer far more than Alex would. The viscount did not have affection for Ben as Alex’s father had for him. Despite the earl’s readiness to go along with Sterling’s plan, Alex knew the man loved him. Fear was what drove him now.
Alex didn’t allow himself to wallow in self-pity for too long. He had to get word to Ben, somehow warn him what their fathers were up to. Perhaps Ben could help come up with a solution. Regardless, he needed to feel connected to Ben in any way he could, and a letter was the best he could do tonight. He would slip it to Hamond, who had his ways of ensuring it would land in Ben’s hands.
Going into the sitting room attached to his suite, Alex retrieved his writing box and began preparing to compose a letter. This was where his father found him when he entered through the bedchamber. Two large footmen flanked him, discreetly averting their eyes as the earl stood before him.
“Alex,” he said, his voice gentle. “You know what must be done.”
Alex shook his head, a fresh wave of tears humiliating him. “I can’t. I know you don’t understand me.”
“You are still my son. You’ve simply lost your way. It happens more than you might think. Boys who attend college … well, they … they often toy with unnatural urges. But, a gentleman should grow out of such folly, and you are beyond the age of such choices.”
Alex pushed his writing box aside and shot to his feet. “Do you think I would be this way if I had a choice? That I would want my desires to be the sort that could land me in gaol or the pillory? A man was killed last year when passersby began pelting him with bricks and rocks. His face was unrecognizable when they were finished with him. Do you honestly think a man wouldn’t apply himself to the pursuit of the female sex if he knew his life depended on it? I didn’t choose this any more than you chose the color of your hair and eyes.”
“I don’t believe that,” the earl argued. “It is just as the viscount said … his son has corrupted you, changed you.”
“This is who I am! I understand what it means for the future of the earldom, but your brother and nephew … either would make a splendid earl. And so would I. Just because I cannot produce an heir doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be as great an earl as you are.”
“But you will sire an heir. You will choose one of your female acquaintances, anyone who would have you. What of that Ingram girl? I assumed you had an interest in her due to the amount of time you spend talking to and dancing with her when we attend balls.”
Alex groaned. “Katherine and I are merely friends. She is one of the few people I feel comfortable dancing with, and her nearness keeps the other ladies away.”
He didn’t add that Katherine knew of Alex's preferences. After teasing him over staring at Ben from across the ballroom during a soirée, his silence had told Katherine all she needed to know. She had never loved him any less or treated him any differently. Alex had few close friends, and valued having Katherine in his life. He couldn’t bear the thought of marrying her, ruining any chance she might have at true love.
“She would be ideal,” the earl mused, stroking his chin. “She is of a good family, and the two of you have been seen together enough that a sudden engagement will not seem suspicious. You will pay a call to her tomorrow and ask for her hand, beseech her father … promise them whatever you must to secure the match. I will procure a special license so you can marry right away.”
Alex shook his head, feeling as if a noose had begun tightening around his throat. Despite knowing he had lost, his instincts told him to fight, to rebel. It was what Ben would do when faced with t
his same conundrum.
“Father … please don’t make me do this. Negotiate with the viscount and think of another plan, any other plan. Just … not this. I cannot do this.”
Placing a hand on Alex’s shoulder, his father gave it a hard squeeze. “You know the viscount, Alex. Do you honestly think his threat is idle? Do you truly believe he can be convinced to change his mind?”
“You’re a bloody earl! Surely you have enough influence and power to silence him.”
“Perhaps I could if he didn’t have the evidence of your indiscretions to hold over our heads. This isn’t a typical bit of blackmail. This will affect our entire family, including your mother. Would you do that to her? To us? Alex, you could be executed!”
Alex slumped back into his chair, burying his face in his hands. His father was right. With one unpalatable act, he would save his family from ruin, and Ben from life as a Bedlamite. Ben wasn’t mad now, but he would be once made to languish under the cruel treatments of the asylum. Viscount Sterling was a man of his word, one who despised his son enough to follow through on his threat.
“I will allow you the night to sleep on it,” his father said. “Footmen will be stationed outside any door leading into your suite. Should you decide to visit Katherine tomorrow, I will accompany you to ensure you pay a visit to her and no one else. From there, you will return to your chambers, where you will remain under guard until the wedding. I won’t have you running to Benedict and plotting to rebel against us. If the footmen must stop you bodily from leaving this house, they are under my orders to do so.”
Alex stared off across the room, suddenly cold and numb from head to toes. This was the kind of pain he’d never experienced before. It wasn’t hot and sharp, it was heavy and cold and paralyzing.
Chasing Benedict (The Gentleman Courtesans Book 5) Page 18