Oh, she planned to. If Derek thought he was the only one who could chew spiced candy, he’d never met the girl who had shot a pistol, smashed vases over men’s heads, grabbed her reticule, crawled out of a window bleeding and then watched the New York authorities take over while lighting a cheroot on the street.
14 Park Place, early evening
Derek had circled the entire city of London twice trying to avoid calling on a man who would ultimately answer the one question that viciously clawed at his mind and heart. He decided he couldn’t avoid calling on the man forever.
So here he was.
The double mahogany doors leading into the lavish private quarters of His Royal Highness were swept open by two dark-skinned men dressed in identical flowing emerald-green garbs bounds by thick, red sashes around their waists.
The wigged butler in livery announced, “Viscount Banfield, Your Royal Highness.” The wigged butler moved backwards, head bent, until he exited through the doors.
Derek’s jaw tightened as he strode against the gleaming white marble that the oil lamps and candelabras illuminated. A line of servants departed the large lapis lazuli colored receiving room. The doors behind him closed, leaving Derek to address the prince alone.
He paused at seeing a very good-looking, dark-haired gentleman of deep olive skin tone. The man slowly rose from a chair to greet him, dressed in formal black attire, save a blue silk cravat and blue embroidered waistcoat that amplified the dark coat and trousers he wore. His jet-black hair was swept back with tonic and his square jaw had been shaven to perfection despite it already being evening.
Set on a walnut table between his chair and an empty one were several decanters of various liquors, two crystal glasses, and various hors d’oeuvres.
It was as if the man had been expecting him.
Nasser skimmed his appearance and gestured toward an empty seat beside him with a large hand. “Be seated,” he said in a heavy accent. “I was about to indulge in an evening repast.”
Women probably found that accent and refined demeanor attractive. Derek tried not to think about whether Clementine found this man attractive. He stalked over to the chair and sat.
Nasser lowered himself into his chair and crossed his right leg over his left, shifting toward him. Intense, black eyes met his gaze. “I am honored to finally meet you, Lord Banfield.” He reached out to the crystal decanter set between them, still holding his gaze, and lifted the stopper. With his other hand, he took up the decanter and poured the dark red liquor into each glass, before setting it back onto the small table and putting the stopper back onto the crystal.
Nasser took up his glass and lifted it to his lips. Taking a swallow, he offered, “Drink.”
He damn well needed it after the day he’d had. Taking up the glass that had been poured for him, Derek took a long swallow of the tangy, spicy but sweet liquor. He lowered it and glanced at the dark red liquor-like substance he was drinking. It was like his gingered hard candy. Only better. “What is this?”
Nasser searched his face. “It is burnt wine. It originates from Italy, but I had it altered to my own taste. Do you like it?”
“It’s tolerable,” Derek muttered. He drank some more.
“I am very glad to hear you find my favorite drink tolerable.”
They drank in silence.
Derek knew it would have been stupid of him to start fighting this man. He decided it was best to take a breath and calm down. He was still recovering from everything Clementine had said. She loved him. She said so. And if he was inclined to believe her, then why was he here? Maybe because he needed to better understand her through someone else. Someone who had become a part of her life.
When they were both finished with their wine, Nasser poured them each another glass.
They drank that. And the next one. And the next. By the fifth glass, Derek realized by the heat in his body and slight swaying of the room, he was already drunk. Which was hardly what he had come here to do.
He set aside the glass, which Nasser refilled.
Derek waved at it. “No. No, I…no more.” He sat up, blinking rapidly against the strong wine. He was usually more than capable of handling any amount of spirits but this one…it punched him.
“So why are you here at this hour, Lord Banfield?” Nasser asked in a low tone. “It is rather late to be calling on a man. Do you not think?”
“Yes. It is. And it took me all day to get here. So just…” Huffing out a breath, Derek blurted, “Did you fuck her after I did?” It was the wine talking. But he didn’t care. He was glad for it. The sooner he settled this, the sooner he knew what path he needed to take. “Did you fuck her or are you two genuinely friends? As in…real friends. Because I need to know. No matter what you say, I will not fight you. Because this isn’t about us. This is about whether I can trust her. I need to trust her.”
Nasser carefully set down his glass and eyed him. “Not all men look at women like you do, my lord. Some of us yearn for other things.”
Derek leaned against the side of his chair, toward him, and rasped, “Let me repeat that. Did you fuck her after I did?”
Nasser also leaned against the side of his chair, toward him. “No. I did not.”
A shaky breath escaped him. Trying to sense if this man was telling the truth or not, he edged in closer. Close enough for barely a hand to come between them to ensure they were eye to eye. “So you never once wanted to? It never once came into your mind? Ever? Not even randomly whilst sitting and having a conversation with her?”
Nasser lowered his gaze to Derek’s lips before lifting his gaze again so their eyes met. “You are making it very difficult for me to focus. You may want to move away. Or I may take advantage of you. It is late and you are drunk.”
Derek paused, the haze of the wine making it too foggy for him to concentrate. Was this man…? No. He was imagining it. This man wasn’t advancing on him. Or…was he? He fell back into his chair, everything swimming, and grabbed the armrests to balance himself and his breath.
Nasser also leaned back into his chair. He set his shoulders. “Given we will be associating for as long as I am in London, as your wife is a good friend of mine, I suggest you cut your hair.”
“My…hair?”
“Yes. I like it too much. I like it enough to consider doing something I never would. So cut your hair, keep your face away from mine and we will be fine.”
Derek’s eyes widened. Jesus. The man was a…Boretto man. “So you…you’re…?”
Nasser sighed, took up an hors d’oeuvre, and pushed it into his mouth. He chewed and swiped at his lips, causing the ruby ring on his finger to glint. “Yes, Lord Banfield, I lie with men. Of course, I have not had the pleasure of kneeling to a man in years given who I am. Only five people in this world and in my circle know about my true penchant. Dalir, Clementine, my valet, a few of my lovers, my mother, and now you. The men who are tasked to stand outside my door at all hours are deaf and therefore hear nothing. I ensured it, as I must protect my name. The only reason I am telling you any of this is not because I trust you, but because Clementine deserves to be happy, and you are clearly looking for excuses to terminate that happiness.”
Derek closed his eyes in disbelief. He felt like an idiot. Clementine, bless her heart, had been protecting this man from getting lynched by the world for what he was. Not what they shared. That was why she had been unable to say anything.
Opening his eyes again, he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I truly am. I, uh…I overstepped my bounds. I’m still learning how to be in a…relationship and I…I’m done here. I should go.” He rose and staggered, the room swaying.
Nasser stood, jumped toward him and caught his arm and waist, hefting him straight. “Maybe you should eat something.” Nasser nudged his chin toward him. “Do you need to lie down?”
Derek froze, realizing the man was holding him and touching his chin as if Derek were a lady in need of fainting salts. “Can you…not…this is awkwar
d.”
Nasser released him and stepped back, holding up both hands. “I was only trying to assist. I meant nothing by it.”
“I understand and…appreciate that.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll get used to this. Especially given you and Clementine plan to…associate. Which I’m fine with. No one in London would be fine with it, but I…it isn’t their business. It’s ours. If Clementine needs you in her life…then so be it.” He hissed out a breath between teeth. “I…uh…I have some groveling to do at home. A few hours of it.”
Nasser stared him down. “Clementine may be my friend but that does not mean you are. If you ever speak of this to anyone, and I do mean anyone, even your brother, I will send someone to kill you. If you think I jest, go ahead and try it. Tell someone.”
Derek coughed out an exasperated laugh and swayed. “Oh, now, you…you needn’t worry about me. I have no one to tell. And my brother he…have you ever met Lord Trent? Apparently he...anyway…my brother associates with your kind.”
Nasser widened his stance and narrowed his gaze. “My kind?” he bit out. “Are you insulting my people or my preference or both?”
Derek winced. “I’m inebriated right now. So please don’t…don’t hold anything I say against me. I already have a woman I have to go home and grovel to.”
Those sharp features remained unrelenting. “You women-loving men are too focused on being men. Focus on being human, for fravashi sake. Focus on being a friend. That is all she needs. The rest will fall into place if you recognize that.”
Derek’s chest tightened. Even in a drunken daze, he could discern good advice when he heard it. This was why Clementine had gone to this man in the first place. Because she needed a friend. Something he had never truly been to her. God save him, after everything she had shared about her own life, he was going to be that to her and more.
Nasser let out a breath. “Sit, Lord Banfield.” He gestured toward the chair. “You cannot go to her in this state. Her father struggles with the cognac. You do know that, yes?”
“Yes. She told me.” Knowing the man was right, Derek trudged back over to the chair and slumped into it. “I’m in love with that girl. To the point of being…blinded. I even threatened to divorce her over this. This. I…I’m stupid. Do you know that? I am…stupid.”
Nasser smirked and seated himself back into his own chair. “We are all stupid when it comes to our emotions, my lord. Anyone who says otherwise is lying to themselves and their God. At least you’re being honest about it and recognize what you need to do.” He gestured toward the silver tray laden with hors d’oeuvres. “Eat and the dizziness will pass within the hour. Shall I call for some tea and honey?”
“No, no, I’m fine. But I will eat.” Derek reached out over the side of his chair and grabbed up one of the small browned corn cakes dabbed with caviar. Shoving it into his mouth, he chewed on its savory flavor in genuine satisfaction, refraining from groaning about how good it tasted. He grabbed up another one and shoved it into his mouth. “Damn, I just….” He chewed in exasperation. “I just realized I haven’t eaten anything all day. Not even at breakfast. No wonder that burnt wine hit me so hard.” He swallowed and took up another small corn cake. “These are incredible. Amazing. Thank you.”
Nasser smiled and nudged the silver tray closer to Derek. “Indulge.” Taking up his glass of burnt wine, he leisurely tilted it against his lips. He observed Derek for a long moment. “You appear to be a man very comfortable with his surroundings. No matter who surrounds him. I like that. Very much.”
Derek snorted and pointed at him. “Don’t you dare start flirting with me. I’m a married man, you know.”
Nasser grinned, his dark eyes brightening. “Yes. I do know. She is a very lucky girl.”
Derek rolled his eyes and shoved another corn cake into his mouth. Whoever thought he’d be fending off the advances of a man. “If you make me blush, I’ll punch your arm.”
A playful low whistle escaped Nasser. “I believe you are now flirting with me. I rather like rough advances.”
Derek choked and hit his chest twice. “Can…can you stop?”
Still grinning, Nasser inclined his head. “I am honored to welcome you into my close circle. It is an unexpected pleasure. May we all be friends.”
Derek held up another corn cake. “I’ll eat to that.”
Midnight
A knock at her bedchamber door made Clementine scramble up from the dressing table she sat before. She glanced toward the closed door, her heart pounding. “Yes? Who is it?”
There was a moment of silence. “It’s me. Might I come in, love?” Derek’s voice hinted he was no longer angry.
A breath escaped her knowing he had finally come home. After waiting hours upon hours, all while wondering if he and Nasser were clanging sabers against each other. Smoothing her long braid over her shoulder, she adjusted her silk robe. Sitting back down onto the long bench before the dressing table in the direction of the door, she set her ankles against each other to appear more collected and refined. She prayed Nasser cared enough for their friendship to reveal the one thing Derek needed to know: the truth. “Yes, of course.”
The door edged open. Derek, who was still dressed in his morning coat and trousers, stepped inside. He closed the door behind him and adjusted his queue and lingered. He captured her gaze from where he stood, his brown eyes soft. “I’m an idiot and I’m sorry. I was treating you like an object instead of…instead of the wonderful woman you are. I feel like I have been chasing you all my life without even giving myself a moment to breathe. I failed to realize I wasn’t honoring us but destroying us.”
She could barely quell the fluttering in her stomach.
He cleared his throat and crossed the room, his pace slow. “I spent most of the evening talking to Nasser. I can see why you associate with him. He is very amiable and intelligent. I like him.”
“You do?” She kept her voice steady and even, despite the fact her breath and mind were anything but.
He bit back an awkward laugh. “Not in that way, I assure you.” He paused beside her and added, “I uh…I thought it noble that you didn’t tell me. It wasn’t your place to. I wish to apologize for my behavior. I wish to apologize for not trusting you.”
This was the true beginning of their friendship, she knew. She almost set a hand over her own chest in awe of him. “Thank you, Derek. It means everything to me knowing you’re willing to try. I know I wish to also apologize for creating an environment which you felt yourself incapable of trusting me. It wasn’t fair to either of us. I’m…I’m not…I’m just not one to gush.”
He turned and settled beside her on the bench. “I know that now.”
They quietly sat side by side.
He nudged her. “So what should we talk about?”
Reaching into her robe, she pulled out the folded parchment she had earlier tucked into her pocket. She held it out to him. “You might want to read this. I already did.”
He lowered his gaze to it and seeing it was the same parchment that Madame de Maitenon had given them, sighed, tugged it loose and unfolded it. He read aloud:
Your application has been formally accepted and selected by Madame Thérèse’s School of Gallantry. Your studies will commence this Monday at the address you and your wife have already called upon. Be prepared to set aside Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and occasional Friday mornings during the remainder of the Season. Hours of instruction will commence at seven in the morning and end at ten. Method of payment in full must be settled with Lady Chartwell during your first week of school.
He groaned and let it float to the floor. He set an elbow on each knee and stared down at it. “You don’t actually expect me to go, do you?”
Clementine smoothed her robe against her thighs. “Aren’t you at all curious as to what she will be teaching? After everything she helped us with?”
“While I do not doubt she has more wisdom to share, I am not paying ten thousand to attend a-a…
French woman’s idea of anatomy class. It’s fairly obvious what she’ll be teaching. I know how to roll my hips, thank you.” He stood up and rolled them forward once and twice to demonstrate. “I’m good at it.”
She gave him a withering look. “Yes, too good.”
He sighed and sat down beside her again. “Are you saying you want me to go?”
“She said it would help us.”
He threw back his head, stared at the ceiling, and whined in the manliest manner possible, “But what if I’m the only man there?”
“Are you really worried she might grab you by the queue and have her way with you?”
He leveled his chin. “No one is going to be grabbing it. I’m cutting my hair.”
Clementine quirked a brow. “Cutting it? Why?”
He shrugged. “It attracts too much attention from the ladies and the men. And I…I’m a married man.”
She observed him. “Are you saying Nasser found your queue attractive?” She elbowed him. “Did he comment on it?”
He flushed. “I should embrace a new sense of style.”
She poked his knee and sing-songed, “Someone has an admirer.”
“Yes, yes. Laugh about it. I earned it.” He closed his eyes, a pained expression overtaking his rugged features. “Can I go to bed? I’m exhausted.” He got up onto booted feet, heaving out a long breath between teeth and inclined his head toward her. “Good-night, love.” He trudged over to the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He held up a quick hand, opened the door, scrambled out, and closed it behind himself.
She sat up, astounded. Oh, now, he was taking this idea of friendship too far. He hadn’t even—
The door opened and he leaned over the side of it with a lopsided grin. “I convinced you I wasn’t interested in throwing you onto the bed, didn’t I?”
She smirked. “No amount of schooling is going to educate you, my lord.”
Still leaning over the side of the door he prodded, “Friends still get naked, right?”
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