The Baroness Affair

by Jean Wilde

  Another one? While Piers had made it clear that he was no longer offering his services, he preferred to explain his unavailability in person to his previously regular clients. They were all influential members of society, and he wished to remain on good terms with them. Besides, one never knew when those connections might come in handy—one of their mothers might want a designer to redecorate their drawing room in the latest Egyptian style.

  “Very well. Send him up in ten minutes, if you please,” he replied, devouring the rest of the pie in one go.

  Once in his room he stripped off his clothes and put on a fresh pair of buckskin breeches and a white shirt. He didn’t bother with a neckcloth and had just enough time to wash his hands and face before a knock sounded on the door. “Come in,” he called out, still drying off behind the screen.

  The door opened and closed; he heard his guest take a few steps into the room, then all was silent. When Piers stepped into view of the main room, he froze. Standing in the center of his bedchamber, looking around him speculatively, was Baron Hastings. A sense of overwhelming joy overtook Piers, and without a thought, he rushed forward and pulled him into a tight embrace. Before he had time to regret his impulsive move, Horatio’s arms came around him, and he hugged him back. Several moments later, they broke apart, each wearing a wide grin on his face.

  “By Jove, it’s good to see you, Hori!” Piers exclaimed, tugging him toward a settee. “Tell me everything—did Caroline have the baby? Is she well? Is the babe thriving? Have you finished the repairs in the West Wing?”

  Horatio laughed as he took his seat and held up both hands to slow his rant. “Yes, Caroline presented me with a sweet-tempered boy just like his mama, thank goodness. We named him Thomas, and I could not be happier. Both mother and son are in fine health. In fact, Caroline wished to accompany me to London. But it’s such a long journey, I convinced her to stay behind with the baby. And since you ask, Mr. Hill wanted me to inform you that the building restoration has been completed, all that’s left is the tasteful touch of an interior decorator.”

  Piers studied Horatio curiously, wondering how he’d learnt about his new career. “That seems like a happy coincidence, since I know quite a few people in that profession.”

  “I thought so as well,” his companion replied smugly. “Damned convenient if you ask me since Caroline and I have our heart set on a top-notch, fashionable designer from London.”

  His foolish heart skipped a beat—hope eating away at his resolve of keeping this beautiful man and his lovely wife at bay. He decided to ignore Horatio’s blatant offer and asked instead, “How did you find me, by the way? Caroline didn’t come near the Salon when she was in London, and our correspondence was all conducted through the lawyer, Mr. Cullen.”

  Horatio rolled his eyes. “Really, Piers, with all your experience pleasing women you don’t seem to know how their minds work. I couldn’t have avoided news about you these past few months, even if I’d wanted to. Countess Digby and my wife are both avid letter-writers, and the subject of your career change and whereabouts has been the topic of much discussion between the two of them. We’re both awfully proud of you, by the way. You’ve done very well for yourself in such a short time. I’m not surprised; I’ve always known you’re a man of hidden talents.”

  “I’ve used my best skills on you, I do assure you,” Piers teased.

  His companion laughed. “I have no doubts. You’re a man who takes pride in a job well done.” He looked about the room, studying Piers’s tasteful, expensive furniture before adding, “I must say, this is by far the classiest brothel I’ve ever frequented.”

  Piers threw an arm over the back of the settee, a small smile tugging on his lips. “Unless you’re paying, I doubt Madam would say you’re frequenting this establishment. As you may know, I don’t entertain clients anymore. Whoever enters this room does so at my express invitation. So, while it’s been a pleasure seeing you again, Hori, I need to ask…is there a reason for this visit? Surely you didn’t travel all the way to London to hire an interior decorator.”

  Horatio chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I suppose I could’ve written, asking you to return to Delaval Hall. But I wanted to see you. I—we’ve both missed you very much.”

  Why did his traitorous heart have to beat so wildly? Piers cleared his throat, discomfited. “Yes, well… thank you for your kind words. I’m happy for you and your new family. Truly, I only want what’s best for you.”

  His companion nodded. Taking both of Piers’s hands in his own, his eyes focused on a spot on his chin. “I know that. Actually, I don’t know how I could have ever doubted you.”

  Piers opened his mouth to say something flippant, but Horatio shook his head sharply and lifted his gaze to his. “No, let me finish. I never thought I could love anyone as much as I love Caroline. I’ve shared my body with many bed partners, but only she had a permanent place in my heart. Then I met you, Piers Benson. A charming contradiction of gentlemanly and roguish behavior. You aroused and frustrated me, challenged me and made me laugh. Most importantly, however, you showed me just how ignorant I was of the affairs of the heart—how limited my views were.” He paused and gave a self-deprecating smile. “What I’m trying to say is I love you, Piers, body and heart. And if you choose to return with me to Newcastle, you’ll find that there’s another person just as eager to cherish you and claim you as I am.”

  Tears pricked the back of Piers’s eyes as all the emotions he’d suppressed for so long threatened to overwhelm him. “I—I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to return. Having a single man—not related to either of you—take up residence in your home would give rise to gossip. I refuse to be the reason for scandal to plague you or Caroline.”

  His companion gave him a soft smile. “I could say that scandal be damned and society can hang for all I care, but I won’t. You don’t need to worry about the gossip mongers, though, you’ve made yourself into a man above reproach. Your reputation as a talented London decorator precedes you, and there are several estates in Northumberland in need of repair and modernization. Caroline has it on good authority that the Countess of Sunderland is on the lookout for a designer to redecorate her parlor and drawing room.”

  Piers considered Horatio’s words for a moment. It was a tempting offer; having the Earl of Sunderland’s wife as a client would be a real feather in his cap. Reluctantly, he said, “While I do appreciate the referral, Newcastle is a bit out of my way.”

  The Baron ignored him and continued on as if uninterrupted, “The dower house on the Delaval property has been vacant for many years, and it will continue to remain so, unless I can be convinced to take on a tenant. I wouldn’t allow just anyone to live on my estate, though. It would have to be someone I knew and trusted. He’ll be very close to the main house and can join me and Caroline for dinner often given his unmarried state. Being neighborly, I’m sure he will reciprocate and invite us over for tea in the afternoons or spend the evenings with us. He’ll be welcome anywhere on the Delaval estate and will always have a home to come back to whenever his work didn’t take him clear across the country.”

  The picture Horatio painted was so perfect, so real. Piers had to swallow past the lump in his throat. He replied, his voice hoarse, “But… what about your mother, the Dowager Lady Hastings?”

  Horatio’s good humor fled and his expression turned hard. “She will never live at Delaval Hall again. I’ll allow her to visit during Christmastime, but that’s the extent to which I’ll tolerate her presence. And please don’t insult my intelligence by pretending you don’t know why.”

  Piers was taken aback by the vehemence of his words. How had he found out? Neither the Dowager nor Lady Mayfield would have dared inform him of their despicable scheme. Cautiously, he asked, “Who told you?”

  His companion rose to his feet and did a slow circuit around the room, making a show of studying the pieces of furniture before stopping at the four-poster bed. “You know, Ca
roline and I were completely flabbergasted by your decision to leave us so suddenly. It didn’t make sense to either of us, and…well, it hurt. Then, Jonathan Miller showed up at my doorstep with an interesting tale of two plots: one that occurred six years ago and the other of a more recent date.”

  Piers listened in fascination as Horatio recounted Miller’s revelations of the late Baron Hastings and his role in his son’s marriage as well as a vague plot that involved him, the Baroness, and the threat of scandal. Curiously, Miller hadn’t revealed just how diabolical that scheme had been nor his actual role in it. Seeing no reason to incite further discord, Piers refrained from shedding any more light on the conspiracy he’d helped stop.

  “Jonathan Miller is not one to volunteer information out of the kindness of his heart,” Piers mused aloud. “What did he want in return?”

  Horatio smiled. “Of course, he’s not. At first, he said he owed you a debt of gratitude and wanted to make sure you got the credit you deserved. Then I ‘accidentally’ ran into him in town a few weeks later, and he asked if I’d be interested in partnering with him to purchase the Wright and Sons’ Shipyard.”

  Piers let out a bark of laughter. “Well, at least he waited a few weeks before unveiling his true intent.”

  His companion shrugged. “I wasn’t surprised. I’d heard rumors of Mr. Wright retiring, and to be honest, I’d been considering investing in the ship-building business. While I don’t much like Miller and don’t entirely trust him, he’s actually very good at what he does. I own eighty percent of the shipyard, which gives me the freedom to design the ships I’ve always dreamed of without the hassle of running its operation.”

  “You’re a much better man than I am.”

  Shaking his head vehemently, Horatio said, “No, I’m not. I’m selfish. I want you to come home with me, even though I know you’re doing well for yourself in London. You’d be giving up the chance to be great and settling for modest success instead. Burying yourself in the country is not a wise career move.”

  “It’s not the country I plan on burying myself in, though,” Piers replied with a wink.

  Horatio chuckled. “What do you say, then? Shall I write Caroline and have her make the arrangements for the dower house?”

  He said this while leaning against a bedpost, appearing casual and relaxed. But Piers could see the tenseness of his shoulders and the stillness with which he held himself waiting to hear his response. Did he mean it? Did Horatio truly love him? And for that matter, did Caroline? It sounded almost too good to be true, them wanting him as much as he yearned to be theirs.

  He rose from the settee and closed the distance between them. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Shall I expect that my old room is still available? Just in case I need to spend the night should the occasion call for it. The snow can be treacherous up north, and one should never ride in the rain, or if one has imbibed too much over the course of the evening.”

  Horatio’s grin was immediate. “But of course, I’ll even lend you one of my nightshirts.”

  Grinning back, Piers grabbed him by the waist and pulled him toward him. “You should know by now that the only thing I wish to do with your clothes is rip them off you.”

  Then their lips were on each other, hands working desperately to remove the layers of clothing separating their bodies. Piers landed on top of him on the bed, kissing and sucking his tongue into his mouth, while his hand circled Horatio’s engorged cock. Horatio moaned and reached for him, his hands shaking slightly, clearly struggling for control. Piers loved his responsiveness; how easy it was to bring his lover to orgasm. He broke away long enough to reach for the vial of oil on his night stand and coated himself liberally before pushing himself into Horatio’s tight hole. He tried to make it last, but Horatio wasn’t making it easy on him. He wrapped his lean legs around Piers’s waist and lifted his hips urging him on.

  “God, I’ve missed you,” Piers growled, dropping onto his forearms as he indulged in another searing kiss, his thrusts growing shallow and languid.

  Horatio dug his hands into Piers’s hair and pulled his head back to look at him. “Then come back with me. Let us love you the way you deserve to be loved. Let us be your family, your home. I promise you, you won’t regret it.”

  For the first time in his life, Piers understood why people described love as an act of faith. The idea was terrifying—placing all his trust, hopes and dreams in the hands of another person. But it was also tantalizing and exciting—and everything he’d always wanted.

  “Yes,” he replied softly, rolling his hips to accentuate his words. “I’ll come with you. You and Caroline will be my home, and I’ll be yours.”

  Horatio pulled him down for a deep kiss to seal their promise. A moment later, Piers felt the rush of warm seed across his belly and the answering tightening of his sac as his own orgasm crashed into him. Overwhelmed by the physical and emotional upheavals of the day, he collapsed onto Horatio and drifted into oblivion.

  * * * *

  Piers stirred, blinking blearily at his candlelit surroundings. It took him a moment to recall that he was in his room in the Salon, and that Horatio…where is Horatio? He sat up, quickly scanning the room, and that’s when he realized that it was the sound of conversation that had woken him. His lover sat in a wing chair across the room, dressed in a familiar red banyan, while Madam Sophie sat on the settee before him. They were chatting amiably as if they were old friends. Both were so engrossed in their conversation that neither of them noticed his return to consciousness.

  “He was my top earner, you know,” Madam Sophie said in a conspiratorial tone. “If he hadn’t squandered all his earnings, I daresay he would’ve set up his own establishment years ago. He’s quite clever and resourceful when he sets his mind to it. Although, I must confess, I’m glad he never tried to open his own salon…competition is stiff enough as it is.”

  “We should be thankful for our subordinates’ lack of ambition, I suppose,” Horatio said, sounding amused.

  She nodded and continued conversationally, “It was excellent luck that Mr. Hope agreed to take him under his wing. The man’s been called a genius, but he lacks all the charm and mannerisms that members of the ton find appealing. Which is why, if you ask me, he hasn’t received any titles from the Crown.”

  “But Piers can?”

  “Perhaps,” she acquiesced. “He might earn himself a knighthood given the right opportunity. He’s slowly becoming known for his daring designs and bold colors. Mind you, they’re not for everyone. His tastes are so very…modern.”

  Baron Hastings smiled. “He and I have that in common, then.”

  Piers cleared his throat loudly, drawing their attention to him. “As fascinating as this little tête-à-tête is, all good things must come to an end. Sophie, what are you doing here?”

  She lifted a shoulder carelessly. “I heard you had a male visitor. And when your guest remained for several hours, I came to investigate. It wouldn’t do for you to entertain clients without my consent.”

  He jumped off the bed, bristling with indignation, but Horatio just chuckled. “As you can see, Madam, I am no client. I do understand, however, that I inconvenienced some of your lovely ladies this afternoon by standing in the way of their education. Please allow me to compensate you and his spurned pupils for their lost lesson.”

  “Since you ask so nicely, my Lord,” she replied with a smirk. “I shall allow you to make it up to me and my girls.”

  Piers groaned. “You have no shame!”

  “Have you ever met a brothel madam who did?” she asked, as she rose from her seat and headed toward the door.

  “I confess,” Horatio said, “I have never met a madam quite like you before.”

  She sank into a low curtsy and gave him a charming smile before sweeping out of the room.

  Piers huffed. “That’ll be the last time you see the likes of her if I have anything to do with it.”

  “The Scarlet Salon has been a part o
f your life for over a decade; is it so easy to leave it behind?”

  “Yes,” Piers replied without hesitation. “I should’ve done it years ago, I just needed a highhanded baron and his infallibly logical baroness to knock some sense into me.”

  Horatio beamed at him. “That’s good to hear since I took the liberty of directing two servants to come up within the hour to help you pack.”

  “I can’t leave London yet!” Piers exclaimed. “I still have the Viscount of Hatton’s ballroom to redesign.”

  “I’m aware of your current obligations, darling, and while I’d rather carry you off to Newcastle right away, I know it’s not prudent. So, I’ve rented a house in Mayfair for the next few weeks for us to stay at until you’ve completed your work. I’m in town for business anyway. I’m scheduled to meet with an Admiral Higgins of the Royal Navy in a couple of weeks to negotiate a ship-building contract. Caroline knows it’ll be awhile before she sees either of us again. I’m sure she’s not happy with this extended delay, but like you said, she’s the practical one in this relationship.”

  “I’ll be sure to work extra hard to please her when we finally return to Delaval Hall,” Piers stated.

  The Baron placed his hand over his heart and said, “I wouldn’t dream of letting you shoulder that burden by yourself. We’ll have to work together to make it up to my dear wife.”

  “I bet I’ll have her screaming my name before yours,” Piers said boastfully.

  Horatio smirked. “I accept your challenge, Mr. Benson. May the best man win.”

  Epilogue

  Delaval Hall, Newcastle – 8 months later

  Caroline sat on a stone bench in her gardens breathing in the rich rose-scented air and tilting her head up to feel the warm rays of the sun on her face. It had been another glorious summer day. They’d taken Thomas on his first picnic, and it had just been the four of them—exactly the way she liked it. Well, five if one were to count my unborn child, she thought with a smile, stroking her slightly rounded belly. She didn’t know for certain who the father was, but she was quite confident it was Piers’s. They no longer exercised caution during their coupling. Nothing was more intimate than having him spill his seed inside her as he moaned her name in ecstasy. Horatio didn’t mind—he had his own private time with their lover, and he’d insisted that the baby’s paternity didn’t matter.