A Gentleman’s Position(58)

“Yes, I know,” David said. “I am still angry, my lord. I am still hurt. I believe you are sincere in what you have told me, but I am not going to fall back into your arms. You were right in one thing: I am vulnerable to you. I didn’t quite understand how vulnerable before. So I accept your apology, and we need not discuss that further, but I will decide on what terms I am prepared to be with you from now on, and you have no say in that.”

Richard exhaled. This was fast becoming the most humiliating conversation of his life, and he had to remind himself that he had earned it. But at least David was here, straight-backed, sharp-eyed, and thinking on Richard’s behalf. “Very well. As you wish. What now?”

“I must sleep. I was up betimes, and it was a tedious journey.”

That was his dismissal. Another novelty from this damned uncomfortable evening. “Of course. Good night.” Richard headed for the door with a certain sense of relief.

“You’re mistaken in one thing, I think, my lord,” David said from behind as Richard grasped the handle. “You would have made an excellent butler.”

“Ah…why is that?”

“You’re very tall, and you don’t drink much.”

Richard stared at the woodwork in front of him. “Thank you,” he said, keeping his voice steady. “I shall bear that in mind should I lose my fortune.”

“You’re welcome,” David said, and Richard left him, cherishing the almost imperceptible quiver of amusement in his voice like a precious thing.





Chapter 12


David woke at the chime of five o’clock as he always did, because years of habit could not be discarded like a worn-out garment. Habit such as doing what Lord Richard wanted.

This was a hellish tangle. The war with Lord Maltravers would have to be fought openly and viciously, and if David failed, Richard’s name and protection would be worth nothing. Lord Maltravers was a powerful, vengeful man and a brutal one. There would be no room for gentlemanly feelings.

David didn’t think Richard would indulge them. Richard had summoned him in the teeth of his own best interests and David’s pride because it had to be done for his friends. He would not hold back now.

Some people would see that as self-sacrifice or kindness. David knew damned well what it was. When Richard decreed something should be so, it had to be made so, and anything in the way of that would be put aside. Richard wanted David to solve his problem, and here David was. He could decide as firmly as he liked that his lord’s troubles were not his own; he had been quite adamant that he would put his glorious, destructive dream behind him at last; but the minute he had seen Silas and Mr. Norreys standing on Mr. Fleming’s threshold, David had known he would be going with them. Richard whistled, and David came.

If Richard decided that David would return to his bed, he did not delude himself that he would resist for long. He’d had to lock his knees as it was the previous evening, feeling his anger vanish like dew under the sunrise of Richard’s sincerity, and it was a struggle to make himself stay angry.

He had to, because he knew all too well that Richard was his Achilles’ heel, his worst vulnerability, the one that would destroy him if he let it. He wanted Richard, and the wanting made him weak.

But if Richard was truly going to listen…

They could change the rules of the game, if they both played differently. They might find a way if they both sought one.

And while they were seeking, David had to take on a duke’s heir and the law and the Home Office and Bow Street, and win, so he ought to give that business the attention it needed. He stared up at the cracked ceiling and turned the situation around in his mind, looking for his advantage.

His first step was to write a letter to Lord Maltravers requesting an appointment. Maltravers had sent a missive of immense condescension a few months back advising David that he should be grateful for the opportunity to serve a future duke and offering a generous salary of a hundred and twenty pounds a year.

It had not been tempting. Richard, far the better man to dress, had paid David four hundred, and Lord Maltravers’s bullying temperament was notorious. David had declined the offer with elaborate courtesy, hinting that he was bound by contract and that otherwise he would have seized the opportunity. He always declined in those terms; if life in a brothel taught one anything, it was never to offend a powerful man’s amour propre, never to make him feel vulnerable or rejected or at fault. Men did not like to be made to think less of themselves, and they were prone to restore their dented pride at someone else’s expense. David was quite sure that Lord Maltravers would react very badly indeed if his self-love were assaulted.