“Why on earth would I speak to Ash about any such nonsense? What is this?”
“I will tell you. Gabriel is a damned sodomite.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“A sodomite,” Lord Maltravers repeated. “He and that wretch Webster are engaged in unnatural acts of the most abominable kind.”
“I find that profoundly unlikely.” Richard struggled to keep his tone calm. He wanted to shout, to demand what the devil Maltravers knew of love or nature or anything. “I know them both well, a great deal better than you do. This is a nonsense, and—Lord Maltravers, I beg of you, stop this. Ash has never done you wrong, and he is your brother. Harry is a fine young man, Mason is a reformed character, and your quarrel with Francis Webster should have been left in the schoolroom. Don’t pursue this, my lord. Wipe the slate clean, let them all be, and, I promise you, it will be for the best. For everyone.”
“For the best?” Maltravers said incredulously. “Sedition and immorality, sir?”
“There is no sedition, and you have no need to concern yourself with Ash’s morals. He is an excellent fellow. I ask you again, Lord Maltravers, don’t stir up this trouble. You will do no good to anyone.”
Maltravers sat very straight. “I shall do as I see fit, sir. Mason will hang, and Gabriel can take the consequences of his own acts.”
Richard sighed internally. He had not imagined his plea would be heard, but he’d had to try. “Yes, we must all do that, you included. Very well. Follow your path if you must, but it is deluded and wrong. Ash is perhaps the most charming and gentlemanly fellow of my acquaintance.” He gave Maltravers a look up and down. “It is remarkable how families differ. And I must say, it is…coincidental that you make these allegations against a brother you loathe and a man you have hated for years. It smacks of malice, my lord, and you should consider that Webster can well afford to bring suit for slander.”
“These are not allegations. I have proof.”
“Nonsense. What possible proof could you have?”
“A letter,” Lord Maltravers said smugly. “In Gabriel’s own hand, to Webster. A full admission of unspeakable acts.”
Richard sat up, frowning. “A letter? May I see?”
“I don’t have it to hand.”
He leaned back again, allowing his dislike to show. “Of course you don’t.”
Maltravers clenched his fists. “What does that mean?”
“It means, my lord, that since you are unable to produce this supposed letter, I must decline to place faith in its existence.”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“I am certainly not prepared to take your word,” Richard said. “If you can show me this letter, then I will make my apology for doubting you. Until then, my lord, I shall form my own opinion as to whether you or Ash is the more likely to be honest.”
Maltravers looked like a swollen bullfrog. “How dare you!”
“Very easily.” Richard stood. “One may dare anything against a man too cowardly to defend his name.”
Rage leapt in Maltravers’s eyes, and for a moment, Richard thought he might take the bait. He took a step closer. Maltravers did not rise from his chair. “I said, cowardly,” Richard told him, looking down. “Perhaps you did not hear me.”
Maltravers’s eyes bulged. “My father is the Duke of Warminster, sir. I do not lower myself to brawling.”
“Not with men who can hit back, at least. And my father was the Marquess of Cirencester, so do not cower behind your title with me.”
“You are insolent,” Maltravers snarled. “And you are wrong. I shall show you the letter, and you will make a public apology for your insults.”
“I will do so for calling you a liar if you can prove you are not one. The proof that you are not a coward is up to you,” Richard said, and stalked out.
—
David paced the length of the private meeting room at Quex’s, turned neatly, paced back. He didn’t feel like sitting.
Richard had gone to force Lord Maltravers’s hand; Lord Gabriel was to meet his brother afterward to refuse his blackmail once and for all. Everything would depend on how Lord Maltravers now played the game out, whether he would begin by prosecuting his brother or picking up the fight with Richard in a fury of insult and disappointment. David had men watching Ashleigh House; he would be informed by the swiftest possible messenger if Lord Maltravers headed in the direction of Bow Street first. David didn’t think he would. Lord Maltravers didn’t like to give up anything he thought his by right, including vengeance.
Mr. Skelton would doubtless have advised Lord Maltravers to put pressure on Lord Gabriel, but Mr. Skelton would not be available. Mr. Frey had called on his many connections from a lifetime of government service, and that afternoon Mr. Skelton was due to sit before a board of interview for an excellent post at the Admiralty. He would place that before his lordship’s failing scheme, David was sure. Lord Maltravers would have to make his decisions alone. And if Richard had carried out his task, the man would be in no fit state to do it.
Confuse him. Insult him. Make him angry with you, David had said, and Richard had given that authoritative nod of his, accepting David’s instructions as though nothing were more natural.
He wanted that again. He wanted to tell Richard what to do, and he wanted to see him take it as easily as David took orders from him, and he wanted…
He reached the end of the room, turned again. He’d stand still when Richard arrived of course—no twitching nerves would be displayed then—but he needed action now, to get out the quivering tension that ran through his body at the thought of the game to come.
It wasn’t a game for Richard, with noble names at hazard and his friends in the balance, but David couldn’t help feeling the thrill. He’d worked from behind the scenes for so long. Now he had stretched out his hands across London and tugged on a tangle of threads painstakingly set up over the years, and this time he would see his puppets dance.
There were just a few hours to go. David’s blood was singing, muscles tight with readiness.
He really needed to get the tension out. He had his own role to play, that of the loyal, faceless servant. He could not afford to look as he felt—like a predator poised to spring.
Heavy feet on the stairs. He was still and waiting as Richard entered looking somewhat ruffled.
“Did it go well?” David asked as Richard bolted the door.
“You requested Maltravers angry and confused, and that is what you shall have. He is very angry indeed. I should tell you, I asked him to stop, to let the whole sorry business alone. I know how much work you have done, and I hope that did not threaten it, but I felt as though I were luring him down a path to destruction. I had to give the damned fellow a chance to step off.”
David would have been astonished if Richard had not made some such effort. “It didn’t work, I take it?”
“Not at all, but I salved my conscience somewhat. I am a little nervous, David.”
“Only a little?”
Richard gave a short laugh. “Very well, if you prefer: I am very apprehensive indeed. This is not a battleground on which I feel comfortable fighting.”
David reached up and put a hand to Richard’s jaw. “Trust me?”
Richard’s hand met his, interlacing their fingers. “Entirely. I am not concerned with your scheming, merely my ability to carry it out. I don’t want to let you down.”
“You won’t.”
Richard pulled, sliding David’s palm across to his own mouth, kissing the sensitive skin. “Not if I can help it. Never again.” The movement of his lips was a caress. “I love you, my fox, and whatever happens today, or afterward, I could not be more grateful that you came back to me.”
“I don’t want your gratitude,” David said, and felt Richard’s lips curve against his palm.
“I recall saying the same to you. I should like to give you a great deal more than gratitude, but—”
“You ought to. You owe me a deb
t, remember?”
“I owe—?” Richard began, and then his eyes widened. “Now?”
David pressed closer, against Richard’s powerful frame. “You owe me,” he repeated. “And we have an hour before you should be in White’s. And”—he let his hand slide downward—“I want it.”
Richard’s breath had grown faster, heavier on David’s hand. David pushed against his hips, rubbing like a cat, chasing his own pleasure as much as Richard’s. “I want it. I want you to fuck me on the floor, right here, and then face the greatest gentlemen in the land with my scent in your nose and my taste in your mouth, and not one of them will suspect you were pleasuring your valet a bare hour past. They wouldn’t dream of it. But you’ll know.”
He could feel Richard’s arousal against him now, see the expanded pupils. He grinned savagely. “Fuck me, my lord. Here, now, hard.”
Richard grabbed for David’s coat, wrenching it back off his shoulders and down his arms. David ground against him, relishing the friction of cloth and flesh. “Show me how strong you are. How big.”
“Christ, David.” Richard’s hands were at David’s waistband. He tipped his head back, baring his throat, felt Richard’s mouth on his skin. “If you want that—”
“All of it.”
Richard had his thumbs inside David’s clothing, shoving breeches and drawers down. “Then get on the floor. Oh, damnation. Is there oil?”
“Mantel.” David had put the discreet bottle there earlier. It was his job to think of everything, after all.
He got to hands and knees. Richard made it back to him with the bottle in two long strides and was settling behind him a moment later, clothing shoved out of the way rather than off. David shut his eyes, feeling his blood thump, the quiver of anticipation and nerves, as Richard’s hands closed over his arse, thumbs skimming his skin. “You know, I always imagined I would do this with such care the first time. Gentle and tender, on clean sheets. Looking after you.” One thumb nudging. David shifted his legs apart. “I must have been mad. You want fucking, my fox?”
David sucked in a breath, feeling Richard’s substantial prick pushing at him, seeking entrance. “God, yes. Just a— Yes, now. Now.”
Richard exhaled, a harsh sound. “Dear heaven. David.” He was pushing slowly and as gently as possible, taking David with care, whatever he might have said, but there was a lot of him. David set his jaw against the burn. There was a heavy hand gripping his shoulder, another arm coming around his waist. David locked his elbows to take the weight.
“Just a bit more.” Richard’s voice was strained. He pushed, and they both gasped as David’s inner resistance gave, and Richard was in him to the hilt. “Sweet Jesus. Yes?”
“Yes. Oh, fucking—yes. Move.”
Richard did, slowly but not tentatively. David pushed back and felt the hand and arm that held him tighten. He pushed again and found he was trapped. Richard gave a breathless laugh at his ear. “You wanted my strength. You may have it.”
David’s hands clenched at nothing, white-knuckled on the carpet. Richard leaned onto David’s back, hips moving faster now, his face pressed against the hair on the back of David’s neck. So strong, so powerful, and all for David. “Richard. More. Yes, God, like that.”
Richard grunted and leaned in harder, and David couldn’t hold himself up against the weight. He went forward with a yelp, and then he was facedown on the carpet with Richard’s arms wrapped around him, under his chest and belly—avoiding his bruised ribs, of course, though that was the least of David’s concerns—and Richard was driving into him mercilessly, in and out. David cried aloud, although he barely had the breath for the weight on his back, writhing in his grip for the joy of friction against the rug, and felt Richard’s teeth in his shoulder through the linen of his shirt. “Tell me,” he rasped, pushing back. “Tell me you wanted this.”
“Forever.” Richard sounded as though his teeth were set. “You cannot imagine. If I had dared I should have pushed you onto the bed and begged for your body every night. Christ, David, you have no idea how I imagined you.”
David felt his lips stretch in a savage grin. “Show me now.”
Richard made an animal noise. “Up.” He sat back, hauling David off the carpet with him, so he was kneeling up, and David sat splayed over his lap. Richard’s arm tightened across David’s chest even as his other hand moved to David’s aching prick. Dear God, he wished they had a mirror for this. He wanted to see his own slim body against Richard’s bulk, see the red marks of hard fingers on his own skin, watch himself being taken.
“You are going to spend like this,” Richard said into his ear. He was fucking with short, hard snaps of the hips now even as he worked David’s cock, sending the pleasure pulsing through him inside and out so that he felt utterly, gloriously overwhelmed. “Me inside you and holding you. I dreamed of fucking you like this, you beautiful bastard.” He bit at David’s neck. “I dreamed you’d want me to.”
“I wanted you to put me over the desk at the interview,” David managed. Richard’s hand engulfed his prick, his grip and his restraining arm so powerful that David couldn’t have got free if he’d tried. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”
Richard’s hips ground against him. “Then I should make it worth our wait. Like—”
“Oh Jesus!” David yelped as Richard thrust upward with startling force. “Please!”
“Again,” Richard said in his ear. “Say it again.”
“Please, Richard, more. Please.” David had known the man was strong but he must have thighs of iron to be pushing up like this and at just the perfect angle. If he wanted David begging, he could have it. “Fuck me, fuck me as you wanted to, don’t stop—”
“With me,” Richard gasped in his ear, hand tightening almost unbearably. “With me now.”
David threw his head back against Richard’s shoulder, crying out as he came so hard that it ached, only vaguely aware that Richard was climaxing at the same time. Two shuddering, interlocked bodies, two thundering hearts.
They gasped together a little longer as David’s vision cleared. David’s head was lolling back rather far for comfort, but he didn’t want to move.
“Ugh,” Richard said at last. “My knees.”
David wriggled off, rolled onto the carpet, and stared at the ceiling, getting his breath back. His chest smarted from Richard’s commanding grip, so much that he rather suspected Richard had picked up some ideas from Mr. Frey before they parted, and sent a grateful thought the gentleman’s way.
Richard was straightening his long legs, wincing as he unfolded himself. “My God, David, I cannot tell you how much I wanted that. I hope I did not crush you?”
“I told you, I like your size.”
“I hope I did not crush you excessively, then.” Richard leaned in for a long, gentle kiss. “And that you feel I have paid my debt.”
David smiled at that. “In full.”
“I don’t know if it was your intent,” Richard added, “but I suspect I shall find it a great deal easier to face this afternoon now. I only hope I can keep my mind on our business.” He brushed his hand through David’s hair. “We should get up. And dress.”
They should at that. David dealt with the ruin of his own appearance quickly and was restored to unexceptional decency while Richard was still in the bedroom, prodding at his somewhat disordered cravat in the mirror.
“Let me.” David went over to him. “You’ll need a new cloth; we keep some in the drawers.”
He whisked a snowy length of lawn out and stood in front of Richard as he had so often, valet to master. Richard lifted his chin to let David remove the creased neckcloth and tweak his collar points, then caught David’s hand before he could draw it back, kissing the fingertips. “Thank you for this. I appreciate it.”
“It’s my pleasure,” David said, and then, very softly, added, “It always was.”
Chapter 17
Richard sat in White’s that afternoon, looking at a newspaper without re
ading it, and waited.
He sat alone. The others were there but occupied so that they did not appear to be assembled as a clique. Julius and Francis were at the tables casting dice. Ash was with his bosom friend Freddy, looking white and sick, as well he might. Richard knew Ash had had an interview with his brother that afternoon in which he had informed Maltravers in so many words that he would not bow to the blackmail. It had evidently been a brutal discussion.
So he waited in the club as his ancestors had waited in tents or on horseback for battle to begin. But it had been two hours now, and the boredom was beginning to become as oppressive as the tension. He wished David were there.
David, twisting and spasming under him, given up to pleasure. David demanding what he wanted and Richard giving it to him because between them they were perfect.
A few weeks before he’d have been appalled at the thought of taking David with anything less than the most reverent care, probably would not have done it at all, could not possibly have backgammoned the man and then had him serve as a valet straight after. All that seemed bafflingly foolish now. David made his own choices; he did not require anyone to protect him from himself. Why on earth would one take a man like that and decide he needed to be coddled? One might as well attempt to make a fox into a lapdog. Of course he’d bite.
Richard knew what he was going to offer David when this business was over. It was not what he would have wanted to offer given a free choice and far from what he would have wanted to accept if he had been in David’s shoes, but he was not David. He hoped, desperately, that it would do.
Of course, any thoughts of the future assumed that David’s schemes had worked and that Richard and his friends would not be forced to flee the country, or deal with arrest, or face public humiliation or private shame or any of the other prospects that were keeping all the Ricardians awake at night. He did not want to explain matters to Philip if this went wrong.
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