by Megan Derr
Addison smiled faintly. "I'll probably dump it into this crazy merchant venture I've heard rumors about."
"Oh?" Jewell asked, brushing back a strand of Addison's hair.
"Mm," Addison acknowledged softly, and clung tightly when Jewell kissed him.
When they broke part, Jewell said, "As to your parents, I am sorry they're being as difficult as mine, if not perhaps worse in their own fashion. I think they'll come around, for one reason or another. And as I have told you before—you're not allowed to care about anyone but me, and I'll take care of the rest."
Addison sighed and shook his head, but in the end only smiled. "All right, Jewell. I will do my very best."
"Good," Jewell replied, and punctuated the word with a kiss. "So I guess we shall spend the next few weeks planning our journey, and preparing for it, hmm? I'll have to write to the Captain of The Crown and of course my secretary, and we'll have to see to clothes and supplies…." He continued to rattle off ideas and ramble about all of them, while Addison said in his quiet way, smiling and adding a word here and there, but otherwise seemingly content to let Jewell speak, and Jewell really did mean it when he said that Addison was worth everything he had, because no one had ever simply sat and smiled while he got carried away.
He really could not wait until his twenty-first birthday.
*~*~*
"If you do not sit down or find something to do, I shall lock you in the linen closet," Rae said.
Jewell made a face at him, but obediently sat down in his seat. Addison smiled at him, and offered by way of distraction, "We leave in two hours, Jewell. Are you certain everything is packed and ready? Once we hoist anchor, we have it or we don't."
"We have everything," Jewell said. "I checked it all myself, and pestered the poor servants do it ten more times besides. The Captain sent a note that is all is ready and the Crown awaits our arrival."
"No doubt with knots of dread in their stomach," Benedict said dryly from the desk. "Or perhaps the good Captain does not know what he is in for, being trapped on a ship with you for gods know how many months."
Jewell shot him a withering look.
Benedict snickered and went back to the letter he was writing. "Rae, is it—"
"Swallow," Rae replied before Benedict could finish the question. "Dove is the one you dislike."
"Thank you," Benedict murmured, smile sheepish and fond as he bent back to his letter.
"Is that for more perfume?" Jewell asked.
"Yes," Rae replied. "If we are here in town, and renting this townhouse for the month, we may as well get as much use out of our stay as possible. You leave today, and we've still another week and a half remaining."
"Plenty of time to cause trouble," Benedict added as he sealed the letter and set it on a salver with several others, for a footman to post later. "Speaking of trouble, I do wonder if anyone will come to see either of you off."
"I think the shouting match with my father was farewell enough, don't you?" Jewell asked, making a face. "Then there was my private interview with His Majesty."
Addison reached out and squeezed his hand in sympathy. No one else had been permitted to go, when the king summoned Jewell. Four hours later, Jewell had returned and gone straight to bed, pausing only long enough to drag Addison with him. There, he'd promptly curled up around Addison and fallen asleep.
Of course, Jewell being Jewell, nothing stayed contained for long. Only a couple of hours after dozing off, he'd woken Addison up in most creative fashion, then told him all that the king had said. It had been a much more explicit conversation about what he stood to lose, who would be affected by his decision and how, all that he would be facing and enduring without the protection of the crown, and when he had still refused to back down, the king had made it clear that he would never allow Jewell to go back on his decision.
Still Jewell had not changed his mind, and had gone home to Addison.
Remembering that made Addison smile. "I hope the only farewells we have left to say are to Rae and Benedict when they see us off at the harbor."
He sincerely doubted his own parents would come, though he had sent them three letters in the past month detailing their plans and later, the day and hour of their departure. He had not received so much as a singly reply.
It shouldn't hurt; he was used to their old-fashioned ways. He'd known what he'd be facing the very moment he had agreed to run away with Jewell all those weeks ago.
Still, he would have thought they could come to bid him farewell.
But he'd promised Jewell that he would only care about Jewell, and let Jewell take care of the rest. Even now, the promise made him smile.
Jewell made to stand again, no doubt to prowl the parlor once more, and Rae rolled his eyes. Addison smothered a laugh, and distracted Jewell yet again. "Did you finish all your nautical books, Jewell?"
"Yes!" Jewell said eagerly, latching on to the new topic. Addison had already known he'd finished them—he'd found two of the books in their bed, one in the cushions of the sofa in their room, one on a settee in the blue parlor, and three on various tables throughout the house. "I've all kinds of questions for Captain Maar. Oh! I could write them down."
Addison smiled. "If you tell them to me, I can jot them in my journal here. That will keep them from getting misplaced."
"Brilliant," Jewell replied, and immediately began to ramble, very seldom actually managing to get out his many questions, too busy hypothesizing the answers and sidetracking himself.
Nearly an hour had passed when they heard a knock upon the door. They all fell silent, listening to the muffled tones of the footman answering the door and conversing briefly with the visitor. Then they listened to the steady click of his shoes as he walked to the study. The footman knocked, then entered at Benedict's bidding. If he was disconcerted to find four sets of eyes intently upon him, he made no sign of it. "Highness, there is a Douglas Dewhurst requesting an audience."
Addison started. "What—my father is here?" Impossible. Home was a good three days away. There was no way his father would leave his duties for so long—there was no way his mother would permit his father to see him off.
"Put Mr. Dewhurst in the rose parlor," Benedict replied. "Addy will see him shortly."
"Yes, Highness," the footman replied, and bowed himself out.
Addison closed his journal and stood up. "Um—"
"Don't force us to fetch the brandy," Benedict said. "There's no reason to look so alarmed."
"I didn't expect anyone to come." He had no idea what his father would say—what he'd do. He didn't know what to say to his father.
Then Jewell stood up and grabbed his hand, dragging him from the room as he said, "Come on, then, we'll go see what he has to say."
"Jewell—" Rae tried to stop them, but they were already across the hallway and stepping into the rose parlor, and Addison held tightly to Jewell's hand as he saw his father.
Douglas Dewhurst had given his looks to his son, along with his quiet, patient demeanor. He stood now in front of the fireplace, dressed in his Sunday best, holding his hat in his hand. His eyes widened as he looked at Addison, and Addison flushed, knowing what his father was seeing—the fancy clothes, the costly jewelry, the man holding his hand, how he must look completely unlike the young man who had left his parents' home months ago.
"Father," Addison said quietly.
"Addison," Douglas said quietly. "You're looking good, boy."
Addison flushed. "I—I didn't expect you to come. I thought mother—" He bit the words off, not wanting say something disrespectful.
"Well, as to that, your mother and I had a bit of a disagreement," Douglas said, smiling every so faintly. "But I put my foot down this time. You're my boy, and this behavior is unlike you. I wanted to see for myself if you were making a sound decision, and with a sound mind." He shifted his gaze to Jewell, then slowly moved it back to Addison. "So this is your prince?"
"Not anymore," Jewell said. "I signed the papers
days ago. I'm just Jewell, no prince or anything."
"Well, just Jewell, you don't appear to be such a bad sort." His eyes fell to where Jewell and Addison were still holding hands.
Addison flushed again, but didn't relinquish his hold. "Mother will be furious with you."
"She's been furious with me before, and she will be again. I let her be often enough, she'll let me have my way when I really want it. She'll get past her anger with you, too, eventually, Addy. She had a brother, you know, who ran away with a wealthier lover. They never heard from him again."
"I never knew that," Addison said.
"They do not discuss him," Douglas replied. "My advice to you, son, is to keep writing. Your mother is angry and hurt and worried about you, though she'll never say it. She reads your letters, though, and she keeps them in her old box. So if you do this, then write to her. She'll never write back, but she'll read them, and reread them when no one is around to catch her at it."
Addison blinked back the sudden stinging in his eyes. "Of course, Father. I didn't want to make everyone mad, but I—I want to be with Jewell."
"I can see that," Douglas said softly. "My fears are much allayed, coming here to see you. I'd hoped they would be. You did always have a sound head on your shoulders. All a parent wants is to see their children do better than them. I think I can be satisfied that is what I am seeing. You write those letters, Addison, and I'll bet your mother will be waiting when you come back."
"Yes, Father," Addison replied, and let go of Jewell's hand to give his father a quick embrace.
"All right, then," Douglas gruffly, awkwardly returning the embrace. "You've got a boat to catch, and I've got to get home before your mother decides to start poisoning my food. You boys take care." He held out his hand to Jewell, solemn as they shook hands. "You be good to my boy."
"I will, sir," Jewell said. "Thank you, very much, for coming to see us off."
"Of course," Douglas replied, and with a last grip on Addison's shoulder, he put his hat on his head and departed.
Jewell laughed in delight and pulled Addison close, hugging him tightly. "Marvelous! I'm glad your parents are not as odious as mine. Maybe we can settle close to them, when we eventually return—"
The chiming of the hallway clock drowned him out, and Jewell stopped, then smiled brighter than ever. He gave Addison a quick kiss, then said, "Time to go, Addy. Ready?"
"Ready and waiting," Addison replied, and went easily as Jewell dragged him away.
FIN
Bits & Pieces
Bonus Shorts
Sweets
DECEIVED
"Where have you been all day?"
Benedict sprawled on the settee in his office just to see Rae's eyes narrow.
Which they promptly did. "You're not answering my question."
Benedict grinned. "I was running an errand. Then when I returned, Lady C waylaid me, and I was unable to extract myself easily."
"Ah," Rae said. Lady C was one of the few nobles not perpetually on his 'despise' list since her greatest crime was simply wanting to talk all day. Resuming his seat, Rae asked, "What was the errand?"
"Now that would be telling, darling."
"I am not in the mood for your nonsense," Rae said.
"Liar," Benedict retorted. "You're always in the mood for my nonsense. It tends to lead to pleasant things."
"I have warned you about sex in the office."
Benedict's grin widened.
"Speaking of you and suspicious things, why did I show up an hour ago to find my papers in disarray?"
"My apologies," Benedict said sweetly. "I accidentally knocked them over while I was going through your drawers."
Rae gave him a look that promised there would be violence if Benedict had messed up the carefully ordered contents of his desk drawers. And it was Rae's desk, much like it was Rae's office. Benedict was merely there to follow orders. Prince he may be, it was the secretary who ruled the office.
After a few minutes of inspection, Rae slammed the last drawer closed and rose. "Why are my drawers filled with sweets?"
Benedict reclined as indolently as he knew how. "I thought they might sweeten that temper of yours."
Slowly Rae moved around his desk and Benedict's side. "Bored this morning? Why are we mocking me?"
"Never mocking, dear heart," Benedict said, smothering a laugh as Rae glowered over the pet name. But his levity faded as he said, "I distinctly remember a conversation or two where you promised to stop depriving yourself of something you loved."
"I think this morning demonstrates I deprive myself of no such thing," Rae retorted—then flushed bright red and jerked back.
Benedict's heart leaped into his throat as he lunged up, caught Rae's wrist, and dragged him down to sprawl across Benedict and the settee. "Oh, no, you don't get to run away after saying something like that. And we're not done discussing why you're suddenly abstaining from sweets again."
"Let me go."
"Never," Benedict said, enjoying the renewed flush that brought to Rae's face. "Do you really love me, Rae?"
"I must, to keep putting up with your nonsense," Rae muttered, but that warm smile that filled his eyes before it reached his mouth ruined the flippancy of the words.
Benedict kissed him soft and slow, lingering on it until Rae began to tremble in his arms. Drawing back, he said quietly, "You must know I love you, too."
"I know," Rae said.
"Good. Now then, why the sudden rejection of sweets? I thought we'd worked past this."
Rae muttered the answer into his shoulder, but after a moment Benedict managed to sort the words out. Anger rushed through him, at a world that would make Rae—anyone—ashamed of weighing more than a small child. "You're not fat." He forced to sit up, and resituated him until Rae straddled his lap, resting his hand on the thighs that had been draped over his shoulders only a few hours ago. "I believe I would know, given how often I see you naked, darling."
"Whenever I look in the mirror—"
"You see whatever awful image is in your head. And I know it doesn't really help to say that I wouldn't care if you were fat, but I wouldn't. However, this isn't about me, it's about you. If you want to avoid sweets, that's fine, but don't do it because everyone else thinks you should. Also you're still roughly half my size, so I think it's safe to say you're not fat." He kissed Rae's nose, and then his mouth. "If anything, you're a healthy weight. Would you like me to demonstrate how healthy you are?"
"If that's a euphemism for plowing my ass, no," Rae retorted. "My ass has had enough for one day."
"Mine hasn't."
Rae tried to scowl, but lust and amusement finally own out, and he pushed back to start on his clothing. "Go lock the door then, you spoiled brat."
Benedict happily rushed to obey.
And after they were done here, he was dragging Rae to bed and feeding him the bonbons he'd gone into town to purchase, and licking melted chocolate off all that lovely skin, until Rae stopped thinking he was anything but absolutely perfect.
Possessive
DECEIVED
Benedict sighed, gulped, sighed again, then finally opened the door to his room and stepped inside.
He ducked just in time to miss the glass Rae lobbed at his head, wincing at the sound of expensive crystal shattering against equally expensive rosewood paneling. "Rae—"
Another glass, and this one he had to dive to the floor to avoid.
He was a thousand times grateful Rae had a penchant for throwing, not shooting. The very thought made him cold with fear.
"Beloved—"
"Now is not the time for your stupid little endearments," Rae said furiously. "I told you once I do. Not. Share."
Benedict frowned and picked himself up off the floor. "I had no intention of sharing myself with anyone. If I'd known Lord F was going to walk up and kiss me like that, I would have vacated the premises faster than your temper flares." He realized the stupidity of saying that a moment too late, and
barely avoided the book Rae pitched at him.
He waited a minute more—but Rae now seemed content to stand and glare. He crossed the room quickly, before Rae could think of throwing the nearby lamp, and caught him up.
Then he bent his head and kissed him hard, deep, possessively. "They're not stupid little endearments, you great bloody fool. I should think the fact that I would choose to come here knowing full well you were mad and would be throwing things at me, instead of going with Lord F, proves just how much I love you, Rae."
Rae opened his mouth, then closed it again. Slowly the angry tension eased from his body. "If he tries it again, I'm going to kill him. You're mine."
Benedict smiled and brushed a soft kiss across his mouth. "Yes, Hunter. You caught me, you're stuck with me."
Reversal
DECEIVED
Benedict nodded to the footman who took his things, then stepped into the private salon where he and Rae would sample all the perfumes and colognes they'd ordered, testing and debating….and he did enjoy these rare afternoons of theirs. No one but each other for the next three hours or so.
Except that as he entered, he realized there was a conversation going on. Rae was speaking…in a friendly tone…to someone other than him…
Glare in place, Benedict stepped into the room and suddenly understood for the first time why Rae always started throwing things when one of Benedict's former lovers approached him.
There was nothing else the man standing far too close to Rae could be. Benedict could spot a former lover practically with his eyes closed.
Of course he knew Rae had had previous lovers. No one could know the things Rae knew, or do what he did, without one or two paramours in his past. That didn't, however, mean that one of them needed to come into their salon, on their afternoon, and speak to Rae with that much familiarity.