Hugh took a step towards her, but she pushed past him. “Leave me alone!”
The door slammed behind her. Hugh stood on his own in the drawing room and wondered what had just happened.
Chapter Nine
Later that evening, Hugh presented himself at Lindsay’s set of chambers at Albany, little more than five minutes’ walk from his own lodgings. He was in morning dress as the invitation had made it clear this was to be an informal occasion and was momentarily relieved on seeing his host that his presumption had been correct.
And then the full effect of Lindsay’s attire burst in upon him. He was wearing an exquisitely fitted blue coat, beneath which was a cream waistcoat embroidered in gold, tightly fitting buff pantaloons and gleaming tasselled Hessians. Hugh’s greeting died on his lips as he drank in the picture before him. Thankfully Lindsay said nothing about his sudden lapse in manners, although there was amusement in his eyes.
Hugh finally recovered himself enough to take a seat on the sofa as invited, and Lindsay’s man served them both with sherry before dinner. Lindsay’s set of chambers was luxurious—larger than Hugh’s and ideally appointed.
“As you are only here temporarily, I had thought you would put up at a hotel rather than take a set,” Hugh said, indicating the gracefully proportioned room.
Lindsay stretched out beside him, warming his boots at the fire. “I keep this set permanently for whenever I am in London.” He took a delicate sip of his sherry. “I find it affords greater privacy than a hotel.”
Hugh shot a questioning glance at Lindsay, and found Lindsay was looking at him in a most particular way. Surely even he could not be misreading this. He swallowed. “I imagine it must.”
“Were you able to conclude your business satisfactorily?” he asked, when the silence between them had gone on a little too long to be entirely comfortable.
Lindsay glanced away. “I did,” he said. “I was entrusted with a message to Colonel Murray of the Monmouth Light. They’re marching reinforcements out to meet Wellington, but we have wind that the French know of this and will set up an ambush, so we’re sending them to Coimbra by ship instead. It was felt inadvisable to entrust such sensitive information to a letter and as I had, apparently, nothing better to do with my time, I was dispatched to Colchester.” He affected a shudder. “Ghastly place—entirely uncivilised with no comfort to be found anywhere. No wonder the plague tried to wipe it from the face of the Earth.”
“I can see how it must have compared unfavourably to a draughty bivouac on the Castilian plain,” Hugh agreed.
“You have no idea. Do you know, the wine they served in the Mess was mislabelled?”
“Dear God, no!”
“Yes. And what is even worse, my host did not appear to notice.”
Hugh adopted a suitably grave expression. “It was evidently vital you shook the dust from your feet just as soon as you could.”
Lindsay levelled a narrowed glance at Hugh. “I think you are not taking my travails seriously enough, Fanshawe,” he complained. “I have been quite overset by venturing into the wilds.”
The meal that was served to them appeared to put Lindsay on the mend, however. It was a splendid repast, accompanied by a particularly good—and most definitely not mislabelled—Moscatel. As a result, when the port was finished and they had repaired to the sitting room, Hugh was feeling comfortably satisfied, warm and full of good cheer.
He sat upon the sofa. Lindsay, having dismissed his man, brought him a glass of brandy and sat beside him.
“Did I miss any scandal in my absence, Hugh?”
Hugh froze at the unexpected sound of his first name on Lindsay’s lips. When he met Lindsay’s gaze, it was steady and friendly, and there was something else in it also. He placed his glass upon the side table, because otherwise Lindsay—Theo—might see the sudden slight tremor in his hand.
“I believe the ton survived tolerably well without you,” he said, “although I am sure your absence has resulted in several maidens’ decline, Theo.”
There was a very good reason why Hugh had joined the army, and it had nothing to do with wishing to fight Napoleon. He entirely lacked the easy social graces of his brothers and sister. Unlike Theo’s natural tone, his use of Theo’s first name was ugly and clumsy, and seemed almost to vibrate in the air for minutes afterwards to ensure it had drawn enough attention to itself. He could not hold Theo’s gaze.
“I’m sure you stepped into the breach heroically,” Theo said. He placed his hand upon Hugh’s thigh. The shock of being touched and the warmth that began to come through the wool of his pantaloons left Hugh breathing unevenly. “There is something I wished to discuss with you, Hugh. I have not forgotten my promise to introduce you to other gentlemen, should you so wish.”
“I—thank you, no,” Hugh managed. His mind was a fog, one in which he could not find his way. All he could think of was the weight and warmth of Theo’s touch, and the quiver of excitement deep in his stomach. He wet his lips and tried again. “I have no interest—that is to say—”
“Good,” Theo murmured. “I would not wish for you to kiss me only because you lacked alternatives.”
As Hugh struggled for breath, Theo leaned in, his hand moving to cup Hugh’s jaw and his thumb brushing his cheek. And then his lips met Hugh’s. They were gentle and warm, and possibly the most wonderful thing Hugh had ever known. Theo pulled back after a moment to look at him, his thumb stroking over Hugh’s lower lip, lightly, yet firmly enough to have Hugh’s mouth opening slightly under his touch. He moistened his lip with his tongue where Theo had touched it.
Theo’s eyes changed, growing intent, and he leaned the last few inches to kiss Hugh again. This time his mouth moved against Hugh’s, coaxing, and when Hugh followed Theo’s guidance, he found his lips were parted enough for Theo’s tongue to slide into his mouth. Arousal shocked through Hugh, and the surprised noise he made had Theo pulling back again. Laughter was in his eyes, but it did not seem that he was laughing at Hugh, precisely.
“I take it that was to your liking,” he said.
“God, yes,” Hugh said breathlessly and leaned forward, wanting more. This time when Theo kissed him, Hugh slid his hand into Theo’s hair and held him close as Theo’s tongue pushed into his mouth, slick and strong, setting wild feelings racing through Hugh. He finally gathered the courage to return the kiss, moving his tongue uncertainly against Theo’s, causing Theo to make an approving sound in his throat.
Hugh had had carnal relations several times before, but never had he kissed anyone, nor been kissed—whores did not do that, and he had never set himself up with a ladybird. He wondered now why he had been so foolish, because he could have had this for all of these years. When Theo finally drew back, pressing a last few brief kisses against Hugh’s mouth, he thought perhaps it was not so much the kissing that was wonderful as the fact it was Theo.
Although Theo had drawn away, his hand still cupped Hugh’s jaw and his thumb kept passing over Hugh’s lower lip as though he could not let go completely. He studied Hugh’s face. Hugh stared at him. He had no clue what Theo was thinking, but he hoped so very much that this was not an end of it. He wanted Theo close again like that. He wanted Theo even closer, to touch him and be touched by him.
Theo nodded slightly to himself, as though he had made up his mind. “Will you come to bed?”
“Yes.” Hugh said it instantly, and he knew there was no other answer it was possible for him to give.
Theo stood and held out his hand to Hugh. He did not pull him up as other well-meaning gentlemen had tried before—he merely provided his hand and arm for Hugh to use as leverage, adjusting as necessary as Hugh gained his feet. Once Hugh was standing, Theo led the way down the corridor and through the doorway into his bedchamber, where the candles were already lit and the fire had evidently been alight long enough to warm the room nicely.
Hugh suddenly realised, and stopped just inside the room. “Your man?”
Theo smiled and stepped in close to Hugh. “My man sees little and hears less,” he said, reaching out to push the door closed behind them. “There is nothing to worry about, I assure you, unless it is how I can untie your confounded neckcloth. God’s sake, Hugh—what were you thinking with such a complicated construction?” But his hands gave lie to his words, easily undoing the Osbaldeston which Hugh had so painstakingly tied earlier that evening and lifting the length of material from around his neck to toss it carelessly in the direction of a chair. “I daresay your valet is an excellent man who will be appalled to the depths of his being by the insult I am about to inflict on your clothing,” he continued, as he removed Hugh’s coat with an ease that belied its close fit, and then began to undo the buttons of his waistcoat.
“I am sure he will somehow survive the horror,” Hugh said, but his attempt to match Theo’s casual tone was undone by his breathlessness. Theo was stripping him bare, the way his eyes so often did. Except this was—oh, God, this was so very different from that, because Hugh’s waistcoat was open and Theo was touching him through his soft lawn shirt, and Hugh could not bear it any longer. Seizing hold of Theo’s coat, Hugh pulled him in close and kissed him.
Kissing Theo was even better than it had been upon the sofa because Theo was pressed against him, and it became quite clear to Hugh that Theo was in a similar state of excitement to his own. As he felt that, Hugh made a sound into Theo’s mouth that he instantly wished he could deny. But instead of amusing Theo, it spurred him on to kiss Hugh more deeply, more urgently, and to rid him of his waistcoat entirely. He finally pulled back and unbuttoned Hugh’s shirt, before pulling it off. Then he looked at Hugh, at the body that had been revealed to him, with eyes that were dark and wanting.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Hugh said, and found that his voice was hoarse.
Theo instantly began to rectify that fact, treating his clothes with as little care as he had Hugh’s. Hugh wanted to help but suspected if he did so, he would only slow Theo down. He also wanted to watch Theo’s nimble, confident fingers at work on his fastenings and to see what lay beneath his clothes. When Theo lifted his shirt over his head and dropped it onto the floor—any pretence he was aiming for a chair had long since gone—it was all Hugh could do not to gasp.
Because Theo…Theo was perfect. He was like the marble statues in the temple to Priapus at Somerset House, those beautiful young men who were composed of smooth planes of muscle which Hugh had thought reflected the longings of their sculptors more than reality. Theo was proof that men really could be so beautiful.
Hugh couldn’t help himself—he stepped forward and pressed his fingers to the smooth, warm skin of Theo’s chest, feeling the way Theo’s heart raced under his cautious exploration. He looked at Theo and found he was intently watching Hugh’s hand upon him, but then he looked up at Hugh. He leaned in and took Hugh’s mouth in a kiss that left him dizzy and unsure if he would ever be able to breathe again.
That question was answered when Theo finally raised his head and pressed his hand lightly against the fall of Hugh’s pantaloons. Hugh gasped and pushed into the touch.
“Your boots need to come off,” Theo said. “Sit down.”
Hugh sat down upon the bed, and Theo knelt before him to remove his Hessians, particularly careful with his left one, before standing up once more and encouraging Hugh further back upon the bed. When Hugh’s hands went to the buttons of his pantaloons, Theo pushed them away and undid them himself.
Under Theo’s guidance, Hugh raised his hips to allow Theo to draw down his pantaloons and his drawers, and guide them all the way off his legs, along with his stockings. For an instant, Hugh wanted to close his eyes, because being naked like this in front of Theo meant he could hide nothing. But then he saw the way Theo looked at him, his breath coming more quickly as he did so, and the racing of Hugh’s heart was no longer from self-consciousness.
It took tremendous self-restraint, but Hugh managed to keep himself from touching him as Theo sat upon the edge of the bed, the muscles in his back shifting as he pulled off his own Hessians. He then stood and unfastened his pantaloons, and stripped off the rest of his clothing with a graceful economy of movement. Hugh’s mouth dried as he stared at Theo, for he was completely naked, very obviously aroused, and the heat in his gaze was a world away from the cold, lifeless marble statues to which Hugh had just been likening him.
Theo settled on the bed above him, his arms and legs taking most of his weight, and brought them together at the hips and the mouth. Feeling Theo against him like that, all restraint left Hugh. He pulled Theo down on top of him, until they were pressed together, kissing and moving against each other, and Hugh was able finally to touch Theo wherever he wished. It turned out he wished to touch Theo everywhere. Theo was as strong as Hugh had thought, his body hard with muscle. His tongue pushed deeply into Hugh’s mouth, echoing the moves he was making with his hips, pushing their yards together.
It was better than Hugh’s wildest imaginings, but there was still one thing he wanted even more than this. He wanted to touch Theo. He reached down between them, Theo lifting his hips slightly so Hugh could wrap his hand round Theo’s firm, hot flesh. The jolt Theo gave, the way he stopped kissing Hugh and instead simply breathed against his neck, making little sounds into Hugh’s skin, let Hugh know he was doing this right. It was like nothing Hugh had ever known before, better even than finding his own pleasure. Well, almost—he found he had to rethink that when Theo recovered himself enough to take Hugh in hand in turn, which had Hugh pushing up wildly, desperate for the curve of his hand and the perfect friction of the slight calluses on Theo’s fingers.
It seemed no time at all before it was over, their releases commingled on their skins. Hugh had clutched at Theo as it came upon him, needing an anchor as he fought not to cry out at how it felt to be with Theo like this.
They lay there a little while before Theo untangled himself from Hugh and settled beside him with a slight, breathless laugh. “Had I any idea what enthusiasm lay beneath that extremely proper exterior of yours, I should not have waited so long.”
Hugh flushed slightly, and Theo instantly leaned up upon his elbow, his fingers closing on Hugh’s jaw and guiding him to look at Theo. “That was not a criticism,” he said. “It appears I have a previously unsuspected weakness for propriety.” He lay back down again with a satisfied-sounding sigh, looking at the ceiling above them. “You’ll stay, I take it?”
“Your servants—”
“Will doubtless think my charms have sadly diminished if you refuse.”
Hugh frowned as he looked at Theo, not understanding him.
“One of my reasons for sometimes frequenting molly houses is that I can make it known if I am seeking to take on any new servants,” Theo said. “I do not question what activities they might enjoy in their free time, and they do not question mine. I believe it to be a rather good arrangement.”
There was no gainsaying that. But…
“Do you frequent molly houses often?” Hugh asked, because Theo had said there were risks in doing so. If he felt a slight sting at the thought of it, that was undoubtedly due to his worry for Theo’s safety.
Theo rolled over so that he was facing Hugh and made himself comfortable upon his pillow. “Not so very often, but sometimes. I prefer men who use their bodies to work or to fight, not the dandies and the tulips of the ton. But do not be tempted into doing the same thing, Hugh. It is safe for me—I have powerful friends. I could not say the same for you if there were to be a raid.”
The slight sting that Hugh had felt increased tenfold at the realisation that, despite what they had just done together, Theo expected Hugh to go looking for other company. Which must mean Theo would do so. He had no idea why he should have thought otherwise, unless he had somehow stupidly thought that Theo’s
invitation for him to stay meant more than merely not wishing to be disturbed by Hugh getting up and dressing himself. Hugh looked away from Theo and found himself examining the embroidery on the silk counterpane beneath them.
“There is another good reason you should not go to such a place, of course, and that is because if you were to fix your fancy upon anyone else, I should be obliged to call him out,” Theo said. “Indeed, from the attention your brief sojourn amongst us attracted that night, I believe I might spend some considerable time involved in duels. You were quite the hit.”
Hugh was unhappily aware he was being made fun of, yet he could not let such an accusation pass without trying to defend himself. “I’m not a flirt.”
Theo choked on a laugh. “No, I can see that,” he agreed. “You are, however…” And then he paused, surveying Hugh, who stared back at him, confused. “You are very Hugh,” he declared at last, and pulled Hugh against him. “And have rendered me entirely inarticulate, it seems.”
Hugh didn’t understand what Theo meant, but he relaxed in the warmth of his hold, deciding to pay no heed to his funning. He could not stop from touching Theo now he was finally allowed to, setting his hands drifting over Theo’s body and following the lines of hard muscles beneath the skin.
He traced the long, ugly scar that ran down Theo’s left arm. “Sword?” he asked, because he had seen too many examples of that type of wound not to recognise it.
“Ciudad Rodrigo.”
That had been a bad business. Every battle was a bad business, for that matter. It was something on which Hugh did not care to dwell. Perhaps Theo felt the same, for they both fell silent.
Hugh must have fallen asleep, because he came to with a start to find Theo had moved. He was kneeling further down the bed, his hand resting on Hugh’s bad leg.
A Minor Inconvenience Page 7