David slid down to get his feet on the floor and pulled Richard to him by the lapels of his coat. David’s lips were hot and wet, his eyes wild. “Richard. You have no idea how long I have waited for you to kiss me like that.”
“Four years and seven months. Are you coming back to me?”
“We still haven’t resolved the question of the wall,” David pointed out. “I think that’s crucial.”
Richard pushed him back, holding him to the wall with one hand on his shoulder and the hard press of lips, grabbing for the fastening of David’s trousers with his free hand. He dealt with the buttons with better speed than before and pushed his hand into David’s clothing, feeling his moan as a vibration of lips and tongue. David’s prick was hard to Richard’s fingers, and Richard worked it ruthlessly, ignoring David’s muffled sounds of pleasure and unconvincing protest, making sure David could not twist free, or move from the wall, or do anything but let himself be frigged mercilessly. He squirmed and then groaned surrender under Richard’s mouth, and at last, Richard felt his cry with a shiver of triumph as David spent, thrusting in his hand.
He lifted his lips away as David’s head lolled but kept his hand pressed lovingly tight. “Does that deal with your concerns, you trifling swine? And I have dozens of walls if that’s what you want. I have houses full of walls and floors doing nothing but holding up the roofs, and before you suggest it, I refuse to fuck you on a roof unless we can be absolutely sure of the rafters. In the name of God, will you give me an answer so I can stop babbling?”
“Oh, of course I’m coming back,” David said. “Don’t be absurd.”
“As my valet?”
“As your valet.”
“Thank the Lord for that,” Richard said, leaning forward against him in bone-melting relief. “My boots are a disgrace.”
David spluttered with laughter, shaking with it, and Richard kissed his neck, his ear, everywhere he could reach. “My fox. Will you come home tonight?”
“Not until we have a contract and I’m free of Maltravers’s. Believe me, the servants would notice. Talking of appearances, the hair powder—”
“I adore your hair. If I am permitted to touch it occasionally, I want to look at it all the time. Discard the livery while you’re about it.”
“I’d rather keep wearing it. It suits me better than black.”
And it made him look like a servant. Perhaps that was for the best—a reminder to be careful when they were not alone. “It does suit you very well. Are you content with this?” Richard pulled back to examine his lover’s eyes. “I know your position is far from perfect.”
“I never asked for perfect,” David said. “It is not ideal for you either. Can you be content with a valet?”
“My valet, my friend, my redheaded bastard. I must be content with you because I have been so discontented without you that I am astonished my friends are still speaking to me. I love you, David. And I know very well that no man is a hero to his valet, but I shall do my damnedest.”
“That is all I could have asked.” David skimmed his fingertips over Richard’s face. “It is more than I hoped and—about as much as I dreamed, in fact, but I have very ambitious dreams.”
“Mine are simple,” Richard said. “You in my bed for as long as you can be there. And I, my fox, entirely at your service.”
Epilogue
MAY 1, 1820
“Gammoned,” David said, and sat back with a triumphant grin.
Silas growled. “You sneaking ginger bastard.”
“You were distracted tonight,” David offered kindly. “I can’t think why. Unless you’re waiting for something.”
The Ricardians, including Mr. Frey, were dining downstairs in private celebration of victory now the events at White’s had worked themselves out. Lord Maltravers had not taken his humiliation well, and his spluttering bewilderment at his shattered reputation had only made things worse. Julius Norreys had dubbed him Cassandra, after the Greek prophetess who told the truth and was never believed. His lordship’s wedding to Miss Martindale had been postponed for reasons of ill health; her maid, no admirer of his lordship, gleefully reported that it was a matter of time till it was called off. Lord Maltravers had retired to the country for fresh air and quiet. Everyone knew that was at his furious father’s command.
“So what now?” David asked.
Silas glanced at the clock, which was almost at midnight. “Another game?”
“I doubt we’ve time. I don’t think it’ll be an all-night carouse downstairs. No, I meant you. Will you be staying with us?”