“He has a great deal of compassion,” Dominic said. “With his own way of showing it, admittedly. So you told Cyprian that you wanted him but not as a valet—”
“And he informed me that if I could not bed a servant, I could not bed him.”
Dominic frowned. “Did you…?”
“Yes.”
“Good?”
“God, yes. And then I made this damn fool offer the next morning. I have to redress that, Dom. I have made an appalling mull of this, and I dare say he will not wish to be anything to me in the future, but at the very least, he must know that I wish I had cut out my tongue rather than say such a cursed ungrateful, stupid thing. I have to let him know I didn’t mean it.”
“You’re not thinking of going back now,” Dominic said, warning in his voice. “You must see it would attract a great deal of attention if you turned up twice in a few days.”
“That is the only reason I’m still here. If I had any sense, I would have stayed at Tarlton March so I could have spoken to him again today instead of fleeing back here, but I didn’t think of it then, and I couldn’t bear to be there.” Richard took a large mouthful of brandy. Dominic removed the bottle from the side table without comment. “Dear God. What my father would have said if he knew a fraction of this—”
“Cannot be helped,” Dominic interrupted. “He scarcely conducted his own affairs in a manner deserving of respect. Is it just that Cyprian is a valet? Can you truly not stomach that?”
“If I knew that was what he wanted—” I should have told you yes in a heartbeat, but you never asked. Richard flinched at the memory of David’s words. “But it is not just the duties that trouble me. I am afraid for how vulnerable he would be in his position. God knows I have done enough to him without the least ill intent. And I would not want him exposed to disrespect. You know what I mean.”
“That’s true,” Dominic said. “Although I’d sooner make advances on a crocodile. But yes, his position would be vulnerable.”
“Unacceptably so, and vulnerable to me as well as others. I hurt you so much, and I didn’t even notice. I’ve driven him away from me twice now. I don’t know how to get this right. And when I get it wrong, I know damned well I will not be the one to suffer the consequences, because I never am.”
“Yes, you look quite unaffected now,” Dominic agreed sardonically. “Merry as a grig. Dear fellow, we are all vulnerable. Every time we fall in love, we are nothing but vulnerable.” He circled one wrist with his fingers and rubbed the fading mark there, an absent movement. “Including you, little though you like the idea. May I suggest you leave Mr. Cyprian to manage his affairs himself and concentrate on your own conduct? You have amends to make. And if that goes well, you ought to consider doing what he has asked of you in plain English.”
“What do you mean?”
“Learn to bed a servant. Did he say ‘bed’?”
“He said ‘fuck.’ He said, precisely, that he is a valet and a redheaded bastard, and if I could not fuck the—the man who blacks my boots, then I could not have him.”
“I think I’m beginning to like Mr. Cyprian. Do you want to fuck him?”
“Good God, Dominic.”
“Then the conclusion is obvious. You know what he wants. Give it to him, or leave him alone.”
Richard stared at the wall. “I can’t go back in the near future. And to write honestly—”
“No.”
“I wish I could. I think I could get it right on paper, but of course, I may not even write a bloody letter for fear of discovery. Of course not.” Richard did not often repine at his situation under the law—it was how things were, and his wealth and David’s work had kept him safe enough—but the injustice grated viciously on his nerves now.
“You can write something,” Dominic said. “Express regrets. Ask for an opportunity to meet. It’s better than nothing. And in any case, you cannot do this on paper, and you know it. If you insult a man to his face, that is how you make your apology.”
“What if he doesn’t want to hear from me?”
“Then I dare say he will consign you to the devil. Why don’t you let him decide that?”
“If I write to ask him to wait, not to take another position before we have had a chance to speak again—that is fair, is it not?”
“Entirely. Whether he will is another matter, of course.”
Too true. He’d cut David down twice, and his valet was no dog that would return to a man who kicked him. Richard would need to regain David’s trust, and his first step had to be to give his own trust. God knew David managed matters better than he did.