by Ruby Moone
“What ways?”
“Stubborn, principled, opinionated, and so damned ready to sacrifice your happiness on some archaic principle of manliness and honour, you must both be running for sainthood.”
Hugo’s eyes widened. “We are nothing of the sort.”
“You don’t think you deserve love, don’t think you should give love to another man, don’t think you need love…” He shook his head. “I wish I had your convictions.”
Hugo’s head was hurting. “I’d appreciate it if you left now.”
Hessledon sighed, shook his head, and did as he was asked.
Chapter 11
Hugo held out until well into the evening, but when the clock struck nine, he leaped up, threw on his great coat, wrapped a scarf around his neck to hide his hastily tidied his cravat, and headed for the Fox and Garter. It was snowing again, but he went on foot from his rooms on Clarges street. He needed the cold. Needed something to break him out of the lethargy that was consuming him. It certainly did the trick. The icy wind bit into him and he hunched into his coat. He turned left at the end of Clarges street onto Piccadilly, head down, and hurried on past Burlington House. He turned up onto Sackville Street, shivering from head to foot. It looked like the snow was set to stay. It crunched underfoot, and stuck to his hat, scarf, and eyelashes, and he slid partway to his destination, only just managing to stay upright.
He yanked open the door to the Fox and Garter, and the warmth engulfed him, as did the laughter and chatter of those inside. A huge fire roared in the old, arched fireplace, and the smell of ale and food was enticing. He looked about, and spotted Lyndon sitting at a small table by the fire. He nursed a mug of ale but seemed to be paying it no attention. He was staring morosely into the firelight.
Hugo stood beside him, and when he looked up it apparently took him a moment to register what he was seeing because once he’d realised, he jumped up, clearly startled. A flush spread over his cheeks.
“You came.” His tone suggested he couldn’t believe he stood before him. His eyes were wide and wary.
Hugo nodded, and they stared at each other for a moment, before Lyndon bestirred himself. “Let me get you something to drink.”
“Is there a private parlour? I don’t feel like talking in front of the entire tavern.”
“Of course. Wait here. Have you eaten?”
Hugo shook his head, and Lyndon rushed off to speak to the landlord. Moments later, they were offered a small parlour, some wine, and a meat pie. A young girl scurried in and threw logs on the fire to brighten it up, lit more candles, and placed flatware on the table for them.
“I’m not sure I’m very hungry,” Hugo said, fiddling with his fork.
“Me either, but it seemed the thing to do so we don’t draw attention.”
He was probably right. He managed a weak smile.
When the meal came it smelled surprisingly divine. Two plates of meat pie that was soft, tender mutton in a rich onion gravy, encased in crumbly, perfectly cooked pastry. A dish of buttered parsnips and potatoes accompanied it, along with a jug of dark gravy. Hugo’s stomach rumbled. Lyndon gave him a tentative grin, and Hugo couldn’t help the smile that arrived in response.
They ate in relative silence, passing occasional, terrifyingly polite comment on the deliciousness of the food and the decent quality of the wine. Once the plates had been cleared, wine glasses replenished, and another log thrown on the fire, they were left with nothing but each other.
“What do you want to know?” Lyndon’s voice was low, uncertain.
“I want to know it all. I spoke to Winsford, and I spoke to Hessledon. I know he is my brother’s lover; I know that Hessledon sent you to seduce me with some jumped up idea that it would somehow coerce my brother into continuing their association if he knew that I was of the same persuasion. Am I right so far?”
Lyndon nodded. Grimly. Fingers clutching tight to his glass.
“I’m not sure what else there is to say, other than I understand. You saw an opportunity for revenge, and you took it.” He shrugged and chased a crumb around the table with one finger, keeping his gaze firmly on it. “If I’m honest, I knew it was too good to be true. I knew you’d never be able to forgive what I did.”
“But that’s just it.” Lyndon reached out and grasped his hand, making Hugo look up. “I do forgive you. There wasn’t anything to forgive. Yes, it hurt when you sided with them. Yes, I was angry at times that you didn’t seem to feel for me the way I felt for you.” He shrugged. “As soon as I saw you again, it all melted away into nothing. It didn’t matter anymore. When I spoke to you, and saw how badly you’d felt all this time, I knew there was nothing to forgive. You gave me far more in those moments we were together, when it was us against them. Even when you joined in, it was still us against them.”
Hugo’s heart hurt. That was exactly it. “When you left it was dreadful.”
Lyndon squeezed his hand but snatched it back at a noise in the corridor outside the parlour. Hugo missed the contact.
“I didn’t think I’d survive. I was so…” He swallowed. He tried to smile. “I think I knew, even then, that we were the same.”
Lyndon nodded. “So did I. Leaving was the hardest thing.” He linked his fingers together on the table, and his knuckles were white. “I missed you.”
“Why did you go?”
“I told my parents about the bullying. They spoke to the headmaster, and he was dismissive, saying that it was just boys being boys. My father removed me instantly. I begged to be allowed to stay, to try and make things right, but he was insistent.” Lyndon shook his head. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Should have just ridden it out. Shouldn’t have been such a coward.”
Hugo reached over and briefly touched Lyndon’s clasped hands. “There was no riding it out. We both know that. At least you were sensible enough to ask for help.”
Lyndon sighed and nodded. “What was it like?”
“Pretty much as you’d imagine.” Hugo smiled. “I shocked them once when I blacked Lockford’s eye.”
“You didn’t.” Lyndon looked stunned. Rightly so.
“I did. Thought I’d been so terribly clever, but after that it was relentless. There were too many of them.”
Lyndon looked sick, but Hugo was lost in the icy cold place that was the past. “I remember one night in the middle of January, they dragged me from bed. Eight of them. Two on each arm and leg.” He swallowed. “They carried me out of the dorm and stood at the head of the great stairs. You remember?”
“I do.”
“They swung me back and forth, threatening to throw me down the stairs. I never believed they would actually do it.” He flicked a look at Lyndon, then looked at their joined hands. “They did.” He nodded again. “Then, they picked me up again, regardless of the fact that I was bruised and bleeding quite badly. I hit my head so hard, I thought I was going to faint. They dragged me out of the school, took me to the crypt in my nightshirt, and locked me in.” Hugo swallowed. “All night.”
“Christ.” Lyndon’s voice was a mere thread. He knew what the crypt was like. It was their favourite place for a jape. Dark, dank and reeking of death.
“I wasn’t sure if I was going to freeze to death or die of fright. It carried on in that vein until we left for university. They were going to Oxford, so I persuaded Winsford to break with tradition and let me go to Cambridge.”
“Did you never tell him? Winsford, I mean?”
Hugo shook his head and wondered why he hadn’t. “Never occurred to me.”
Lyndon looked appalled. “Then I’m the one that’s the coward. I’m the one that should be begging your forgiveness.”
“Don’t ever think that. You were sensible, I wasn’t. Not your fault I’m too stupid to say when I’m in trouble.”
Lyndon’s eyes were damp. “You are not stupid, Hugo. You are a good man. The best of men.”
Hugo rolled his eyes. “Such a good man that I joined in the bullying.” He looke
d away. “I’m as bad as they are. That’s what I came to say. I understand. I understand why you might do as Hessledon asked. And it’s fine. It really is.”
“No, you don’t understand.”
“I think I do.”
“Hugo, you don’t.” Lyndon reached over and took his hand. His thumbs were rubbing soft circles over Hugo’s knuckles. “You seem to be thinking that the only reason I came was to do Hessledon’s bidding. It wasn’t.”
“No?”
Lyndon shook his head. “I stumbled on the relationship between Hessledon and your brother only recently. Of course, they were horrified at how reckless they’d been, and the only way that I could reassure them that I wouldn’t ever betray them was to tell them I was of the same nature.”
Hugo’s mouth was open, so he shut it. “How did you find out?”
Lyndon’s lips twitched. “I found them in Hessledon’s office.”
Hugo didn’t really want to know, yet... “What were they doing?”
“Kissing. And things.”
Hugo nodded and cleared his throat. “It’s a strange thought.”
“What, that your brother might share your tastes?”
“Well, yes. I don’t feel so completely alone with the whole thing anymore.”
Lyndon nodded. “Since finding out about Hessledon, he’s rather taken me under his wing and shown me all manner of things I never realised existed.” He shrugged and smiled. “There is a club I can take you to where all the members are of the same persuasion.”
Hugo licked his lips. “Where?”
“I’ll take you. It’s where men like us can speak freely. Nothing exciting happens, well, not in the public rooms, but if you linger over a look, or brush someone’s hand, no-one is going to throw their hands up in horror.”
“I’ve heard of such places,” Hugo whispered. “I never dared try to find them.”
“I was the same. But with Hessledon sponsoring me, I had the courage to go. It has made a huge difference to know that a significant proportion of the gentlemen of London share our tastes. One still has to be cautious, of course, but I know it’s far from just me. It helped to know that.”
“Of course.” He watched Lyndon continue to talk about the club and something inside felt warm. He let his gaze roam over his face and settle on his mouth. He had such a lovely, kissable mouth. It took him a moment to realise that those lips were speaking his name.
“Hugo… What are you looking at? Have I crumbs on my face?”
Lyndon’s eyes had lost that sad, look as they spoke, but they were still wary. He wanted the wariness to go away.
He gave him a half smile. “I was thinking how kissable your mouth looks.”
Lyndon’s eyes instantly darkened. The wariness still there, but alongside it was a hot, needful glow that made Hugo so hard it hurt.
He took a breath. “Come home with me?” Lyndon whispered. “Let me show you how sorry I am. Let’s begin again. Let me try again?”
When Hugo hesitated, Lyndon leaned over the table and squeezed both his hands. “This is about you and me, now. School, Hessledon and your brother are nothing to do with what stands between us. Please, Hugo, please forgive me.”
“Nothing to forgive.”
“But there is. Before, at the ball, you were full of light and laughter. Now, now I look at you and see nothing but sadness.”
“I’ve been told that I’m a miserable swine.” He looked at their entwined hands.
“Then come home with me. We can sit by the fire and say nothing at all if that suits. Just let me be with you.”
Hugo thought about all the times at school they’d just sat with each other. Not really speaking, but Lyndon’s presence always made him feel warm and happy.
“And if I want more than just sitting?”
Lyndon’s eyes fluttered closed. “You can have anything from me you want.”
“And what about you? What does Lyndon want?”
His smile was slow to start, but then lit up his entire face, entrancing Hugo anew.
“I want to have the man that I adore in my home. I want to sit by the fire with you, read with you, talk with you, eat with you, sleep with you.” His tone was wistful. “I want to go to a club with you and have people know we are together.” He paused and looked down for a moment. When he looked back at Hugo, there was a determined light in his eye. “You proposed to me, and I’m not letting you off lightly.”
Hugo couldn’t help the small smile that escaped.
Chapter 12
They huddled together against the wind when they left the tavern. The snow was coming down in earnest and was inches thick beneath their boots. They skidded about until they found their feet, holding onto each other and laughing. Anyone who saw them would simply think them inebriated. The church bells tolled as they set off down the road towards Piccadilly and it seemed an awful long way away with the snow driving into them.
Lyndon had one gloved hand clamped on his hat, the other tucked into Hugo’s arm. Hugo held his arm tightly to his side and held onto his own hat. They both had good great coats, but even so, it was damned freezing. The snow made his face sting and the air was cold in his lungs.
“No hansom cabs tonight, I fear?”
The street was eerily quiet. A few souls struggled along, but when one considered how busy London was as a rule, even at night, it was strange. The wind blew the snow, sending it drifting against houses, cabs, and anything that stood in its way. It muffled everything, making the crunching sound of their feet and breathing loud. It was like being stuck in a frighteningly beautiful painting. When they turned onto Piccadilly, the wind hit them again.
“Do you think we should have taken a room?” Hugo said, panting.
“My rooms are literally around the corner, it usually takes two minutes to walk.”
“If we don’t take a chill after this…” He stomped along beside Lyndon and heard him chuckle.
“There will be a roaring fire, a hot drink, and a blanket awaiting you. Have patience.”
“Patience?” Hugo mumbled as they clung together against a particularly strong gust and staggered on.
By the time they stumbled through the door of Lyndon’s set in Albany they were shivering, soaked through, but laughing.
Once settled, and the minimal staff retired, Lyndon locked all the doors and they retired to the bedchamber to sit on the rug by the roaring fire. Hugo was sat back on his ankles wearing a borrowed nightshirt, rubbing his hair with a towel, and making it stand on end. The curtains were drawn, and the curtains around the bed pulled back to let the heat from the fire in. Two bed pans warmed the sheets, and as Hugo looked around, he could see that Lyndon’s home was elegant.
“Lovely rooms,” he said, curling his legs up so he could sit tailor style and hold onto his freezing feet.
Lyndon nodded. “I’ve been here a couple of years now and it suits me well.” He gave him a small smile. “My parents died and left me a little, so that with the stipend, and the salary, I do well enough.”
Hugo reached out and took his hand. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise you’d lost your parents.”
Lyndon moved closer and sat on the floor beside him. “Thank you. It was a horrible shock.”
“Was it when you were in China?”
“We had returned to England. I’d gone to London, and they were in Surrey.” He hesitated. “They both caught a fever and died within weeks of each other.”
“Oh, my God, Lyndon.” He squeezed his hand. “I’m so terribly sorry.”
Lyndon held on tight to him.
“You don’t have brothers or sisters, do you?”
Lyndon shook his head and looked away. “Just me.”
He couldn’t imagine that. Living on his own with no family around.
“Aunts and uncles? Cousins?”
“A few, but we’re not especially close. Work takes up most of my time.”
He pulled away, so Hugo returned to drying his hair to let him recov
er himself. There was real strength beneath that gentlemanly exterior. A good deal of loneliness too. He wanted to say something comforting. He knew a lot about loneliness.
They sat watching the firelight for a while. Hugo turned to look at Lyndon, his heart doing an odd dance in his chest when he turned to look at him and smiled.
“Why don’t we get into bed?” Hugo whispered.
Lyndon’s smile widened. He got up and stoked the fire, throwing more logs on, so Hugo stood up too. He hesitated a moment, feeling faintly awkward, and took off his nightgown. He stood naked before the fire. Lyndon moaned softly and reached out to touch his chest.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, moving closer.
“Thank you.” Lyndon made him feel beautiful. He walked into his arms and they held each other tight, Lyndon in his nightgown, and Hugo completely naked.
Lyndon pulled back and smiled at him. “I feel a tad overdressed.”
“Mm hmm.” Hugo nodded slowly. “I can help with that if you like.”
“Would you be a dear?” He held up his arms, so Hugo gathered the voluminous garment and pushed it over his head, revealing all the taut, muscled planes of Lyndon’s body, and the full glory of his erection. It bobbed next to Hugo’s, making him smile.
They clambered into bed and tussled over the hot spots where the bed warmers had been, shivering and laughing, until they were burrowed safely. Lyndon lay his head on Hugo’s chest, arms around each other.
“I can’t believe we are lying here like this,” Lyndon said, as he rubbed his cheek against the soft hair that lay between Hugo’s nipples.
“Me either.”
“You’re like my very own Christmas gift,” Lyndon whispered. “Thank you for forgiving me.”
Hugo tightened his arms around him. “Thank you for forgiving me.”
They were quiet for a while. The wind blew outside, buffeting the building, making Hugo feel warm and protected. He couldn’t begin to say how happy he was that he could put the business with Hessledon behind him. That they might have a chance at forming something lasting. That his family was safe from Hessledon. He wondered about Winsford. Wondered if he might ever be able to forgive and find happiness too. He wasn’t sure he would.
