by Megan Derr
"I told you it was familiar," Cressida said softly. "We got into an argument because I said that he should tell you the truth."
Pierce nodded, trying to figure out what to say—but all he could manage was to make his clumsy excuses before bolting from the study. Silver…
All of this time it was Silver?
Damn and blast, where was he?
Pierce heard the sound of glass shattering, a muffled shout, and smiled. The library. Of course that was where Silver had fled.
Bolting down the hallway, he had a brief moment of panic that the door would be locked—but then it turned easily beneath his hand and he nearly tumbled into the room from surprise. Shattered glass lay on the floor nearby, the scent of spilled brandy filling the room. Silver was leaning against the back of a sofa, his back to the room, shoulders hunched, as he stared out the wide window overlooking the garden behind the house. Pierce closed the door and the noise made Silver visibly flinch.
What did one say in a moment like this? He still could not fathom it. "It was you the entire time?"
Silver stiffened, but did not turn to face him. "I would say the answer to that is obvious."
"Why?"
"Why what?" Silver asked curtly.
"The secrecy. The letters. All of it. Why did you not simply say something? I was quite firmly convinced that you could not stand me; at the very best, that you simply did not care one way or the other." He strode across the room and around the couch, somberly regarding Silver, who still refused to look at him. "Silver…"
"What was I supposed to say?" Silver asked the ornate rug on the floor. "I am nothing like Cress. She can charm a room full of people with a single sentence, while I am lucky if I can string words together long enough to form a sentence, never mind somehow manage to interject charm. You two have been as peas in a pod for as long as you have known each other…"
Silver removed the monocle from his eye and polished it with a handkerchief, and Pierce realized that this was another nervous gesture. "For years I believed that the two of you were or would be lovers as well as friends. I could not even begin to compete with her and I did not intend to humiliate myself by trying."
Pierce frowned, but forced himself to remain silent.
"Yet much like my notorious great-grandmother, I could not give you up." He shrugged. "So I wrote the letters."
"You were going to say something, weren't you, that day in the library?"
That startled Silver enough that he finally looked up.
Pierce made his move, stepping close enough to reach out and grasp Silver's chin, keeping him from looking away. "What were you going to say?"
"I had no idea," Silver said. "I just…you were talking to me for once, really talking to me…I was tired of the secrecy and feeling rather miserable. Initially I thought the letters would be enough…instead they just everything worse." He jerked free and looked away again. "My stupid sister figured it out; that was the reason we were arguing. I said she had no place instructing me on matters of the heart when she knew nothing about it." His lips twitched briefly. "So of course Cress being Cress, she told me precisely how much she knew about it."
Pierce laughed. "She is quite irate with you."
"Yes," Silver agreed, face clouding. "So angry that she told secrets that were not her's to tell."
Oh, he was really getting sick of not being looked at. Reaching out, Pierce sank his hands into Silver's hair and forced his head around and up. "I always thought you must dislike me, if not hate me, between monopolizing your sister and nearly blinding you."
"This?" Silver asked, lightly touching the frame of his monocle. "It was an accident, Pierce, and I've grown so used to it that I scarcely notice. Are you really that concerned over it?"
"You never told me you weren't," Pierce replied.
Silver frowned slightly. "You were so upset that I figured I wouldn't bring it up."
Pierce shook his head. "All this time…"
It struck him then, really struck him, that Silver had been writing all of those letters—every last amorous word of them. He drew a sharp breath as the letters merged with the face before him. It was a heady combination. He'd always noted Silver's beauty—he was at least as beautiful as Cress, and only Pierce's frustration and confusion had kept him from thinking of Silver in such a way. "You wrote those letters," Pierce said quietly, letting go of his grasp on Silver's hair to pin his hands to the couch, legs spread to trap Silver's between them. "Every last word was yours."
Silver's face flushed scarlet, and if that wasn't the oddest thing he'd ever seen… Pierce found he rather liked the look of a thawing Silver.
"You should have said something," he said quietly.
"I stood no hope of outshining my sister or any of the other brilliant stars around you," Silver replied. "Pale and distant, that's all I have ever been when it came to you."
Pierce grinned. "Your face is too red to be pale and you are far from distant now." He didn't let Silver reply, but took extreme liberty and kissed him. He was fed a startled gasp and used that to his advantage, deepening the kiss. He was astonished to hear himself groan—but Silver tasted like perfection, tart and sweet, and after a moment, the mouth beneath his began to move, returning his kiss and extracting a second groan. The hands trapped beneath his tugged impatiently and Pierce obligingly let them go, but only so he could take more liberties.
Silver. He was kissing Silver, whose aloof façade hid a man capable of writing letters that made Pierce hot and hard just thinking upon them. Who'd pined for Pierce all these years.
Pierce broke the kiss only to breathe and the sight of Silver with wet, kiss-swollen lips, his hair disheveled, and the monocle knocked aside… Pierce nearly lost himself then and there, utterly taken by the sight of Silver so well-thawed.
It was a sight fine enough that he could no more resist taking another kiss than he could stop breathing. "Silver…" he breathed, licking those thoroughly kissed lips before claiming them again, feeling more than hearing the way Silver said his name in reply.
"All this time!" he exclaimed when the broke apart again. "I feel like a fool."
Silver shook his head. "Well, I am dumbfounded that you are kissing me, so I would call us even."
Pierce looked at him, memorizing every line of that face in a way that he never had before. He cupped the back of Silver's head and drew him close, kissing him long and slow, learning every last bit of that warm and pliant mouth and committing it to memory. "I've wondered as to the identity of my admirer for ages. I despaired of ever finding you."
Silver smiled ruefully. "I despaired that you would discover me."
"I am happy that Cress interfered," Pierce grinned.
"I am looking forward to getting revenge," Silver retorted.
Pierce smiled and leaned in so that their foreheads touched, utterly lost in those blue eyes which were no longer aloof. Hesitant, unsure, but no longer aloof. "Would skipping out on her betrothal ball to engage in base behavior be revenge enough?"
"No," Silver replied, and then shifted so that his arms were around Pierce's neck and their mouths were only a space apart. "It is, however, a good start."
"Then let us make a start on your revenge," Pierce laughed, and kissed his star.
Lessons
Jude strode through the park, hopelessly bored and eager for anything to relieve it. Famous last words, of course, but he meant them all the same. Whatever might come to pass, it had to be better than this awful ennui.
He gazed with disinterest across the lush surroundings, all manner of plants and trees and flowers combined as only a royal could command. The royal park was a thing of beauty, truly; more times than he could remember had he brought one lover or another here for an intimate picnic or a moonlight tryst. Rare were these solitary visits; he wasn't quite certain what to do with himself. There were people he could have brought…but where was the thrill in the familiar? The tried and true? Jude wanted… more. Everyone would die of shock to hear
it, and never believe him, but he had grown weary of taking lovers that he parted with only weeks or months later.
But he stood better chance of tripping over an orgy in the middle of temple than someone engaging enough he wanted to keep them—and who wanted to keep him, because he was well aware the world saw him as a temporary thing, a toy to be enjoyed and then left for the next.
And maybe he'd brought that on himself—all right, he definitely had. But that just made life all the more depressing.
A breeze stirred the trees that lined the path upon which Jude walked, blowing pale pink petals everywhere. He brushed them from his deep blue coat and brown breeches, picked them from his now-tousled pale gold curls. One little bit of amusement, that was all he asked. If he could not have forever, then he wanted something really and truly worthy of his attention. Something to capture and enthrall him.
Instead, he was spending the afternoon trolling an empty park, because it was the only way to avoid all of the bothersome people who wanted him to do dreadfully boring things.
Eventually, the cherry trees came to an end, the pathway taking him to the large pond. Swans glided across the surface, thankfully quiet. Marble benches dotted the bank, empty to the last—no. Not quite. Jude slowed his steps a bit as he drew closer to the occupied bench. The man looked familiar; Jude rifled through his store of faces and names.
Ah. There it was—Crispin Ford, the youngest son of the Earl of Greendale. His mother was a foreigner from the northeast and her youngest son bore the mark of in his blue-black hair, cut unfortunately short. A bit more length would do him wonders, as would clothes finer than the simple things he wore. Such severe black and the plain knot in his neck cloth…
Well, it was nothing to do with Jude. If he recalled correctly, Ford was only a year or so out of school and the reclusive sort. At least, Jude could not recall ever seeing him dancing and drinking with his peers or even out and about with his family.
Presently, Ford was bent over a writing case, scratching something out as though his life depended on the words he wrote. He wrote, then crossed words out, and then repeated the process.
Jude weighed his options—walking was boring, but would conversation with a quiet young man be equally as boring? Well, at least with Ford there was some chance he might prove distracting.
"Good day to you. What brings a young man to this dreadfully boring park?"
Ford yelped and jumped to his feet, sending his papers flying all about. His eyes—a deep, dark blue, like a storm-tossed summer sea, were wide with alarm. My, he had never seen such eyes.
Swallowing, Ford stammered out, "My lord, I did not hear your approach."
Jude chuckled. "So I see. I do apologize. Let me help you gather your papers." He snatched one from the air as the wind tried to steal it, one brow quirking at the slightly panicked look that overtook Ford's face. "Oh ho," he teased, amused by the obvious discomfort and taking a guess as to the reason. "Writing sonnets by the pond to bestow upon your love? How traditional. I shan't peek, I promise."
Ford flushed even darker, though with a touch of shame this time, which Jude hadn't intended at all. "Hardly sonnets, my lord; only a letter and I have not accomplished even that." Hastily, Ford finished gathering all of his things, stuffing the papers into the writing case.
"Well, letters are certainly easier than sonnets, and even more traditional. But if you are so fond of doing things in traditional matter, I'm surprised you've not tried seduction. That is the oldest method of all. Timeless, even."
If any more blood stained those pretty cheeks, Ford would pass out for want of blood in other portions of his body. "I am hardly capable of seduction, my lord," Ford replied, bitterness joining the lingering shame, adding to the surprise and embarrassment.
Jude wanted to apologize, but feared that would make matters worse. Instead, he simply pressed on with the conversation. "Seduction is not so difficult a thing to learn."
"Indeed, my lord." Sadness dominated his voice this time, flickering across his face. "You are well-known master of that art; of course it would be easy for you, much the way writing a paper on the medical developments made possible by the Goblin Wars is easy for me." The barest hint of a playful smile flickered across his lush mouth. "But if you were told it was easy to write twenty pages on the uses, benefits, problems, and further possibilities of harper blossoms, you would likely scoff."
"I don't even know what a harper blossom is."
A short, pretty laugh escaped Ford. "It's what peridorum is made from. It's proper name is—" He broke off, flushing anew, and cleared his throat. "Anyway, my point is that 'easy' is relative, and I think I've made it clear I could not seduce a person to save my life." He looked away, then looked back and bobbed his head in an apologetic nod. "Forgive me, my lord; I should not be blabbering at you so."
"There is nothing to forgive," Jude replied, and realized that he meant it. How could he complain? He was no longer bored, and an idea had begun to tease. Outrageous, to be certain, but now that the thought had formed, he could not bring himself to dismiss it. "I was the one to intrude upon you, after all. So you know nothing of the ways of seduction? The pleasures of the flesh?"
"Do I look as though I would?" The shame returned, along with hurt, making those dark blue eyes look black. "I have done nothing to warrant such mockery."
A shy little kitten, to be certain, but even kittens had claws and teeth. How deliciously distracting. "My apologies for being unclear. Mockery was not my intent. I was surprised, given you're quite beautiful and clearly dislike being an innocent."
Ford's eyes widened briefly, then he looked away to gaze out over the pond. "You flatter me, which is unnecessary and unwanted. But even if it were true, people prefer the company of those with experience. No one is interested in a fumbling halfwit with no idea what he's doing."
Jude almost laughed, that statement was so ridiculous. He could think of many persons, and several distasteful establishments, that preferred innocents. For defiling, a word Jude despised almost as much as he loathed the people who used it.
But if he laughed, he would hurt Ford's feeling again. Instead, he simply smiled softly. "So you confine yourself to writing letters instead of seeking out places that could give you the experience you want?"
Ford's cheeks burned again. Jude wondered idly how far the flush extended, if he burned red from head to foot when truly overcome. The idea was…strangely appealing. "I never worked up the nerve, and it's hard to slip away from my family, who would be appalled."
"I see." Jude moved the slightest step closer, just barely invading Ford's personal space—but it was more than enough to make Ford take a step back, and then another as Jude moved still closer, until Ford collided with a tree. So easy.
Jude braced his hand just to the left of Ford's head, almost laughing at the way those dark, dark eyes went wide. "Would you like to learn?"
Ford choked. "W-what?"
This time Jude did chuckle, reaching up to idly dust the knuckles of his right hand down Ford's cheek. "Well, you call me a master and you are an innocent in need of lessons. I am in need of an interesting way to pass the time and you want to know how to seduce your man. I would call it a fair exchange."
"Y-You could not possibly mean…"
"Oh, but I do," Jude said, dropping his hand and stepping away. "For three months, say? That will bring us to Her Majesty's Summer Gala. The perfect opportunity to seduce your man. By then, I will have made you more than ready to do so."
Ford's eyes were still so wide. He licked his lips. "You are making a mockery of me, my lord. I cannot see why you would offer such a thing. Indeed, are you not of those who prefers experience?"
"I prefer not to be bored," Jude replied, moving close again to trap Ford between him and the tree. "So what say you? Yes or no?"
Seconds turned to minutes as Ford stared at the ground, at the pond, at his discarded writing case. Finally, he looked up, a hint of something—determination, stubbornness,
or maybe defiance—in his eyes, the tilt of his chin. "Very well, my lord. Accepted. What do you require as payment for the lessons?"
Jude laughed and bent down just enough to brush a feather-soft kiss across Ford's lips. "Oh, I think the lessons will be their own payment." He pulled away, amused at the dazed look upon Ford's face. "And as I said, it will keep me from boredom. That is all I truly require."
"Yes, my lord," Ford replied, the words oddly calm given he looked ready to bolt or faint. How intriguing. Jude was used to people who knew all the rules, all the plays, people far too jaded to be affected by such a simple kiss—if they bothered to kiss at all.
"Call upon me tomorrow, young Ford, and we'll begin" Jude said, stepping further away and giving Ford breathing space.
Ford looked at him, and then looked away, cheeks once more burning fiercely. "Yes, my lord."
Jude laughed softly. "Under the circumstances, I think you must call me Jude."
"Crispin," Ford replied. "Calling me Ford makes me think of my father or brothers."
"As you like, then, Crispin. Visit at the fourteenth hour. We'll have lunch, and lessons will begin shortly thereafter." Winking, Jude turned and strode away before Crispin could say anything further, mind spinning with ideas for lessons.
*~*~*
The next day brought rain, a summer shower that made it impossible to do anything but stare out the window and wait for it to end.
He rather felt like sulking.
Glaring at the rain once more, Jude abandoned the front salon and made his way to his study to do precisely that. Settling behind his great desk, he worked his way without interest through the correspondence he'd been avoiding the past few days. Invitations to various fetes, a weekend party, letters from distant friends, one from his sister who lived halfway across the world now… Quickly, he sorted everything into that which could be discarded, those to which his secretary would need to reply, and the letters he would like to keep.