A Gentleman’s Position(20)

The patent unfairness of that took David’s breath away. “Are you saying I should have suggested a fu—liaison, my lord?”

Lord Richard’s eyes widened in shock. “No, of course I am not. Because it is not your place to make advances on your employer any more than it is your habit to refuse my commands. Can you not see how that would make your position intolerable?”

“I see it could be made so,” David said. “But it is not very tolerable now. You asked me for the truth? The truth is that the cat is out of the bag. We both know what we both want. How can we go on pretending we don’t?”

Lord Richard massaged the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know. We must both stop wanting it, I suppose.”

“I have not been very successful at that,” David said. “Have you?”

Lord Richard exhaled hard. “Enough. No more. And I am sorry to say this, but that is an order, Cyprian. I will not enter into a connection that is unjust in its very nature. It is hard enough for men like us to find our way among equals. You are my valet, you are obliged to obey my orders, and if you don’t want to obey this one, then that merely proves my point. We will not discuss this again.”

He spoke with finality, in the voice that demanded instant obedience and sent his entire household scurrying. David opened his mouth anyway. Then he closed it because there wasn’t a damned thing to say.

Must you think so much? he wanted to ask. Can we not just fuck? Can we not shut the world out and let the future take its course? Can we not be as we were, but in bed as well as out?

But of course Lord Richard didn’t just fuck. Of course he didn’t act without thinking or without responsibility. Of course he took charge and decreed how things would be, because he was the master, and David felt the flame of resentment catch and leap a little higher.

Lord Richard was staring out of the window. David turned his head to the other side. The carriage rolled on in silence.





Chapter 5


“My dear fellow,” Julius said. “You look like a cat in the rain but rather less cheerful. What’s wrong?”

Richard didn’t bother to smile. He didn’t feel like smiling. He had come to Quex’s because he had to be somewhere other than his own home but had retreated to the upstairs room hoping it would be unoccupied. Julius, accompanied by Richard’s cousin Harry, was not welcome.

“You do look worried.” Harry pulled up a third chair as Julius sat without invitation. “Richard, I have not had a chance to say: I’m very sorry to hear of your mother’s death.”

“Thank you. I was not well acquainted with her,” Richard added, to forestall further sympathy.

“No. Um, ought I send my condolences to Cirencester? Would that be appreciated?”

Richard made a face. He had given the letter to Eustacia because he had not been able to convince himself he had the right to keep it secret, and Philip had reacted with predictable fury. Neither brother had wanted to think of their father exercising his conjugal rights on an unwilling girl; neither had wanted to consider his own conception in that light; and Philip had gone white as his wife, mother of their seven beloved babes, had read aloud the dowager’s words of horror at the business of child-making.

“Send a card, and don’t speak of it,” Richard said, knowing that Philip had ordered no such condolences be shown to him.

“Is that all?” Julius asked. “You look absolutely wretched.”

“It has not been a pleasant few days.”

“No, well, that has been the case all round, I believe.” Julius sounded sour. “Harry, have you told him?”

“No,” Harry said with a guilty look that made Richard’s heart sink. “You only came back yesterday and, with your mother…”

Harry attracted disaster like few other men. Richard took a mouthful of brandy to sustain himself. “What have you done?”

“Do you remember the night of Ash’s birthday? Well—I would have told you the next day, but you’d had the letter—well, when you left, we carried on for some time, and it was rather noisy, and, uh—”

“They bumped into Lord Maltravers in the Royal Saloon at some unlikely hour,” Julius interrupted. “Ash and Harry chose to be exuberant at his expense.”

“You got drunk and abused Lord Maltravers,” Richard said. “Good God.”

“I wouldn’t say abused.” Harry was scarlet. “Well, we were probably…He’s foul to Ash, you know that. He’s foul to Ash and awful to Francis, and he tried to have Silas arrested—”

“I am well aware of Maltravers’s unpleasantness,” Richard said, riding over him. “That is a reason to avoid him, not poke him with a stick.”