The Folly

by Vanessa Mulberry

  There was never any question of George asking them, he just wanted to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. “We don’t need to talk to them. They’re arm in arm on a bench. You don’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to hazard a guess why.”

  “Case closed then, don’t you think?” Freddy teased.

  He walked on and George followed after him, casting a glance back when they’d passed the couple. “They look happy,” George said.

  Freddy patted his shoulder and replied, “Then I’d like to think they are like us, and I’m jolly glad of it.”

  Inside the museum, they wandered the galleries together, admiring some of the art. The manor had some nice pieces, and George recognised a few artists that were in his family collection, but mostly his home was filled with portraits of dead ancestors and pastoral scenes from their landholdings.

  The Musée had a good deal more to offer than that. George marvelled at some of the ancient statues on display. Fine bodied gods and athletes of the classical world made this something of a treat. It wasn’t often a man got to admire a masculine form in public.

  “He’s terribly handsome, isn’t he?” Freddy whispered, as George lingered in front of one scantily clad goliath of a statue.

  George leaned in close and whispered back, “You’re better.”

  Freddy eyes lit up and he grinned. He looked around but no one paid them any mind. “I’m a little softer bellied than he is,” he admitted, patting his tum.

  George rather liked Freddy’s little tum, but then he rather liked everything about Freddy and he realised now that he’d never actually told him that. That must be corrected at once, setting be damned. “You’re brighter eyed,” he said quickly, “and you’ve a sweeter smile too. You have... sensuous lips.”

  Freddy chuckled. “Thank you. I didn’t think you were the sort of chap for those sorts of compliments, especially somewhere public like this.”

  “You make me feel like I can speak again. Like I can say whatever I want. I haven’t felt that way for a while.”

  Taking George’s hand, Freddy said, “I think that’s the loveliest thing anyone has ever said to me.” He held it for a moment, letting it fall only when someone else approached the statue. “Come on,” he said, “There’s someone else you ought to see.”

  They walked to the corner, where another ancient face looked out at them. Just the head and neck this time, chorded curls framing a noble face.

  “Another handsome young thing,” George said, admiring the striking marble. He looked to the description. “Antinous.”

  “Here for all these people to admire. Worshipped as a god. The world isn’t always unkind to us.”

  It wasn’t always kind either, but George understood what Freddy meant. He’d known that feeling once, twice if you counted the way he felt right now. He was free and he was with Freddy. For the first time in a year, George had hope.

  After that, Paris was nothing but fun. It was too far from the Front to bother visiting when he was in France previously, but George imagined it probably wasn’t so delightful during the war. Now the city was relaxed and everywhere was set up for pleasure.

  There were so many bars for men and women. Montmartre, Pigalle, Montparnasse—all had their share. Burly soldiers mixed with men dressed in the latest feminine fashions and every kind of man in between them. Women too, many clad in trousers and jackets. All could sit hand in hand without fear.

  England wasn’t like this. London shared the vices of Paris but the English didn’t celebrate them the way the French did, with neon tube lights and glamour. There were ways of course, places one could go, but nothing so open or enduring. Whenever the French establishments were shut down, they popped right back up again.

  Their final night was spent at one such place; a bar known for dancing and expensive renters. They weren’t on the hunt for the latter, but when a slow song began to play, Freddy took George’s hand across the table and asked, “Will you dance?”

  George looked around at the other men and women in the bar, many of whom were taking the floor. He still wasn’t a dancer, but this didn’t seem to be the place where that sort of thing would matter. “Why not?” he said, and let Freddy lead him to the dance floor.

  Getting into position was a little clumsy as they both reached for each other’s neck. “My turn,” Freddy said softly, moving George’s hands to his waist.

  For a time they swayed together, moving slowly around other couples who bumped into them occasionally. George watched the room as they danced, marvelling that such a place should exist at all, and that for these men and women, the regulars, this was their lives.

  “Do you like it here?” Freddy asked, drawing him from his reverie.

  “I think it’s the most marvellous place in the world. I’m glad I’m here with you.”

  Freddy beamed at him. “Good,” he said. “I’m glad too.”

  The song ended and the couples all stepped apart to applaud the small band. Someone called out for a Charleston and George shepherded Freddy from the dance floor before he embarrassed the pair of them.

  “You haven’t asked,” George said when they returned to their table.

  Freddy was waving to a waitress and pointing at their empty glasses. “About what?” he asked distractedly.

  “About whether or not I’m ready to brazen it out in London.”

  That got Freddy’s full attention. “A week in Paris is a swell thing, but I don’t expect anything to be different when we get home. I don’t expect you to have shrugged off your dark cloud.”

  “Good, because I’ve not. But I do feel braver, even if it’s just a little.”

  “That’s all it needs to be.”

  The waitress arrived and replaced their empty glasses with two Rose Cocktails, much to Freddy’s delight and George’s displeasure. The raspberry syrup made the drink far too sweet for his taste.

  Freddy took a sip and grinned at George, a dark pink sheen from the liquid on his lips. “We can stay, you know, if you’d rather. We don’t have to go back to Blighty.”

  “You reminded me recently that not everyone can afford to hide away in their big estate. And not everyone can run off to Paris.”

  Freddy reached across the table and squeezed George’s hand. “So we stay in England?” he said with something like pride in his voice.

  “Yes. And you must keep writing about men like us as long as they’ll publish you. And if they stop, I’ll publish you myself if I have to. Do you think you can be brave enough for two?”

  Freddy shrugged. “I don’t think I have to be.”

  It was late when they got back to the village—too late to disturb the vicarage so Freddy would have to stay the night. George let them both into the house via the kitchen door, hoping not to wake the staff. He switched on the electric light as he entered and found Cook dozing at the kitchen table with a battered copy of Freddy’s latest book in front of her.

  “Oh dear,” Freddy said and she jolted awake, startled for a moment before she saw it was them.

  “Lord Montfort, Mr King,” she greeted them both respectfully.

  “You needn’t have waited up,” George said, eyes on the book.

  “I wanted to speak to you, sir.”

  “It’s quite late. Has something happened?”

  “Not exactly, sir.”

  It was going to happen eventually, this conversation. George thought he might as well get it over with, and as it was his house, and Cook was a member of his staff, he would deal with it alone.

  “Your usual room should be made up,” he said to Freddy. “You can find your own way can’t you? I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Freddy hesitated but George nodded to him and he went, wishing them both goodnight.

  George pulled a chair from beneath the table and eased into it. He sat facing Cook, and indicated the book on the table. “Any good?”

  She shrugged. “I prefer mysteries myself, but Mr King does write ever so pretty.”

  “I�
�ll pass it on. So what keeps you up?”

  She paused, searching for the words though she must have had all night to think about what she’d say. George had always treated her well and she’d been kind to him in return. If this conversation meant she left his service then he’d see her well remunerated before she went.

  Eventually she sighed and said, “I thought you should know that the girls and me have been talking. And we’re in agreement about how important it is for you to have a companion.”

  It wasn’t quite what he was expecting. Did she want to arrange a marriage for him? Even his parents hadn’t tried to do that. “Pardon?” he said, not sure what to think.

  “Just that it’s been nice to see you so much happier now Mr King is your—” She hesitated a moment, then said, “Your particular friend. You understand, sir.”

  “I think I do.”

  “And if he was to stay over more often and there were fewer bed linens to launder, no one would hear about it from us.”

  George chewed his lip. This would make life around the house a lot easier, but that book had been read a number of times. It had probably made its way around the village before it came up to the house. “I suspect we’re probably already the talk of the village.”

  “Maybe you are. But they’ve all got their secrets too, every one of them, and you’re a nice man who keeps to himself and paid for the memorial for all those other boys who weren’t so fortunate as yourself. You weren’t ever going to marry one of the village girls, and they’re grateful you’re not chasing the few boys they have got down there. I don’t think you’ll find any trouble here.”

  “No one minds?”

  “It don’t matter if they do. They’re not going to do anything about it.” She rose from the table, picking up the book and tucking it under her arm. “Sorry if I embarrassed you sir, but we all agreed it ought to be said. Goodnight.”

  George stood too. “Thank you,” he said. He wanted to tell her it meant a lot to him but it didn’t seem to be quite the thing. Then he did it anyway. “I’m glad we had this talk. Your support in this matter is invaluable.”

  She snorted a laugh and smiled at him. “Goodnight, sir,” she said.

  George was alone in his bed for ten minutes before he heard the quiet click of a doorknob being turned. “Is this alright?” Freddy asked quietly, head poking round the door. “I can go back to my bed if you want me to.”

  “I want you here with me,” George said, patting the blanket and lifting it when Freddy padded over to the bed.

  “Good. It’s going to be very lonely, sleeping without you again.”

  “Then we shall have to call this our bed and we can both sleep in it every night. Wouldn’t do to have you lonely.”

  Freddy slipped into the bed and kissed him while their hands roamed around beneath the sheets, fingers sliding beneath waistbands, sharing smiles, warmth.

  “Shall I?” Freddy whispered, and George pushed him down, let him pull down the pyjamas.

  First, the stroke of his clenched fist, slow to begin, then faster, faster. His mouth working, lapping, swirling tongue and then the insistent suck until George could take no more.

  Then it was his turn. He went down, tasted soap and the earthy musk of arousal. Freddy watched him, the look on his face suggesting he could hardly believe his luck, no matter how many times they did this. And when he came he grunted something almost incoherent, but George knew he’d heard the word ‘Love’.

  Afterwards they lay together for a while. George expected Freddy to sleep but his breathing didn’t deepen. Eventually Freddy said, “It’s going to be alright, even if it’s not always like this.”

  “This is my bed, in my house, which is staffed with the finest and most discreet women in England. Here, at least, it will always be like this.”

  “Everything’s alright downstairs, is it?”

  “It’s all taken care of.”

  Freddy chuckled. “No more hiding in the Folly for a kiss. I was thinking it would be a bit cold in winter.”

  “It will. Which is why we should get the roof fixed, put in a stove and add some doors and windows now while it’s summer. I think we should do it together, one thing after another until it gets done. We met there, Freddy. It’s about time it stopped being a folly and started being something useful.”

  Freddy shifted back a little, squinting at him through the dark. “That’s the spirit,” he murmured.

  “Yes,” George agreed, pulling him in for a lingering kiss. “I rather think it is.

  About the Author

  VANESSA MULBERRY HAS been reading and writing since she learnt to read and write. She has been an MM romance reader for a decade now and took up writing the genre because she loves happy endings and, ahem, happy endings. Her hobbies include Gin and Tonic.

  She lives in Buckinghamshire (which is significantly less posh than it sounds) with her long-suffering husband and their adorable daughter.

  FOR EMAILS ABOUT NEW releases, discounts, and freebies, sign up to the newsletter on my website:

  https://vanessamulberry.wordpress.com/newsletter/

  Available Now

  Strictly Incubusiness

  Vanessa Mulberry

  INCUBI NEED SEX TO live but Kai’s been keeping himself hungry. He’s not one of those Fuck You to Death demons; he’s a decent guy who helps out at the Magical Animal Shelter and makes sure humans enjoy his body in moderation. He never expected to be arrested for a murder he didn’t commit, and away from his brothel for a few days, he soon finds himself starving. It doesn’t help that the bounty hunter who picked him up is an immortal, and a gorgeous one at that.

  Tynan of the Mount is well aware that the incubus he arrested looks at him like he’s an all-you-can-eat buffet, but he wrote the Bounty Hunter Guild’s code of ethics and he’s not about to sleep with an acquisition, no matter how much they both want it. He needs to focus on work and get Kai into court without other Guild members trying to get a piece of the large reward on offer for his capture.

  But Tynan believes in justice and when he discovers Kai is innocent he has to make a choice between Kai’s freedom and his own job. Can he guarantee a fair trial? Can he allow himself to feed Kai some of his unlimited life force through the medium of sex? And can he stop being a grumpy bastard for long enough to develop feelings for the handsome incubus?

  Strictly Incubusiness is a stand-alone Fantasy MM Romance that enjoys long walks through the forest and role-playing as a light comedy at the weekends.

  Other Works

  Trojan Men Series:

  Hector and Anatolius

  Eros and Podes

  Atymnius and Sarpedon (coming soon)

  The Folly

  Becoming Lord Drake’s Lover

  The First Act

  His Treasure Hunting Billionaire

  Strictly Incubusiness

  An Unconventional Gentleman