by Ruby Moone
Sam smiled at his innocence and kissed the tip of his nose. He was so proper. So gentlemanly. “This is why it is best that we make things up as we go along rather than abiding by rules set by society.”
Tristan shifted so that he could look at Sam. “Very true. We should set our own rules.”
“Then we shall do that.” Sam squeezed him.
“Perhaps we should write a guide for gentlemen who love gentlemen,” Tristan said with a grin.
Sam’s chest tightened as he wondered if he realised what he had said, but decided that perhaps he was reading too much into his words.
Chapter 14
Later that evening they congregated in Alfie’s chamber, at his request, and sat sipping brandy.
“I trust you had a pleasant day?” Tristan said.
Alfie grinned. “I did indeed. You?”
Tristan was sure he flushed. He didn’t think he had words to describe it so he just nodded.
“Sadly, we must now focus on reality as I would like to be able to return to my life without fear of some madman attempting to dispatch one of us,” Alfie said with irritating pragmatism. He looked first at Sam and then at Gareth. “So, my lovely young gentlemen, remind me. Exactly why is this man attempting to kill you?”
Tristan opened his mouth to speak, but Sam raised a hand and gave him a look so he subsided.
“Dante took me from the gambling hells where I had made a mess of things. I owed money. He paid my debts and gave me a job in Dante’s. I was paid to satisfy gentlemen so that I could pay off my debt to him.”
“My cousin paid your debt to Dante. Why does he still want you?”
Sam put his head in his hands. “There could be few things.” He rubbed his face and tugged on his lip. Tristan recognised the gesture. “A cousin of mine ran away from Dante’s and took one of the boys. Bill Mosely is in charge, and got it in the neck when he returned empty handed.” He looked over at Gareth, who nodded his agreement. “If I disappear, too, Mosely is in deep trouble. Added to that,” Sam said, and then hesitated. “Added to that I appear to be a particular favourite with both of them.” He stared at the carpet as he spoke and Tristan felt cold all over. The kind of cold that seeps into the soul. Just what had Sam had to endure in that place? What did all of them endure just so men like him could…he couldn’t even finish the thought.
“Fortunately, we rarely see Dante, but Mosely in particular appears to be obsessed with me. More than I imagined. That’s one of the reasons why I needed to get out. He is…unpleasant.”
Gareth made a snorting sound and threw his hands in the air. “The man is a bastard. He forces himself on the unwilling and he is a sadist. He enjoys inflicting pain and humiliation and Sam bore the brunt of it for long enough.”
Tristan remained frozen. Sam’s face was now a dull red as he glared at Gareth. “That’s enough,” he snapped.
“No it isn’t,” Gareth said, standing and pacing the room. “He will never let you alone, he sees you as his and he won’t let you go. Of that, I am certain.”
Tristan watched as Sam put his head in his hands again and then look back up at Gareth. “Couldn’t we have left this until tomorrow? Couldn’t we have had just one more night feeling like normal people?”
“We need to decide what to do,” Gareth shouted. “We have all put our heads on the block for you, now we need to decide how we keep ourselves safe.”
Sam surged to his feet. “I will tell you what we are going to do,” he shouted back. “I am going to leave you all here and travel north. I will get as far away as I can and begin a new life so that you can all return to yours. I need to go where he cannot find me. It is the only way.” He ploughed his hands through his hair. “I have had a letter from Harry. I can go to him for a while until I get on my feet.”
Tristan was on his feet, too, as the words tumbled from his lips. “Like hell you will.”
Gareth was shouting at Sam and Sam was yelling back.
Alfie put his fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly, shocking them all into silence.
“Gentlemen.” His tone was soft. Low.
Tristan had to swallow several times and clear his throat against the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him before he could speak and when he did his voice was raspy with emotion. “I do not think it is necessary for you to run away. I want you to consider staying with me. We could leave together and…”
“Tristan,” Sam said, his voice a soft moan, “Tristan, you are the Earl of Chiltern. You cannot just disappear. You have a life, a position in the Lords, a responsibility to all your people; your estates.” His eyes were sad. “You are more trapped than most.”
Tristan felt as though a lead weight crushed his chest. He struggled for something to say but Sam continued.
“I adore you,” he said softly. “I adore that you saved me, I adore that you looked after me but we both knew that this was temporary, we both knew it couldn’t last.” He moved and cupped Tristan’s face with his hands and then kissed him full on the mouth. In front of Alfie; in front of Gareth. Tristan squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw. “Let me leave,” Sam said softly, still holding his face. “Let me leave tomorrow and find somewhere safe.”
Tristan began to speak, but Sam placed a finger over his lips. “Shh.” He looked down at Tristan and when he was satisfied he wasn’t going to speak, enfolded him into his arms. “We still have tonight,” he whispered. All Tristan could do was wrap his arms tightly around him and hold on.
* * * *
Tristan stood in his nightshirt. He was really coming to hate nightshirts. He could still hear the low hum of conversation from Sam’s adjoining room so he waited until he was alone before going through. He supposed the staff were all aware of the nature of the liaisons between the gentlemen visitors but he was not going to parade himself in front of them. He heard the door close, and silence fall, so ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath. This was his last chance to persuade Sam to stay, or allow him to travel with him until they could work out a way to see each other. He simply could not accept that Sam would leave tomorrow and he would never see him again; he just could not. He closed his eyes and prayed that he would be able to find a way to persuade him. As he made for the door he was stopped by a tap at the main door to his room. Puzzled, he changed direction and opened it. A small boy stood there in a nightshirt. Barefoot, gripping both hands in front of him.
“Good evening,” Tristan said, as he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He had not seen any children in the time they had been there and couldn’t imagine what this one wanted, or even where he had come from.
“Sam sent me to you, my lord.”
Tristan frowned. “Beg pardon?”
The boy twisted his fingers together and pressed one bare foot on top of the other. “Sam sent me to you. As a special treat.”
“A special treat?” Tristan was trying to process what was being said but failed.
The boy swallowed. “I can suck you if you like.”
Tristan went cold from head to foot and then colour exploded over every inch of him. Indecision gripped him for a moment, but the misery on the child’s face won. “Won’t you come in?” he said to the boy as gently as he could. The misery in those young eyes deepened, but he followed him. He closed the door behind them. “Tell me you name,” he said.
“Ollie.”
“Well, Ollie, there is someone that I would very much like you to meet.”
The child raised eyes to him that were weary. “Oh,” he whispered. “Is there two of you then?”
Tristan couldn’t speak. He knew without even having to think that Sam would never be involved in anything like this, and the fact that the child had been sent filled him with fear and horror. He went to the adjoining door and opened it.
“Would you join me in here a moment?” he called.
There was a muffled thud from the room and then Sam came through the door pulling off his nightshirt as he went.
; “I have a guest,” Tristan said pointedly, and Sam cursed and pulled the garment back on.
“Dreadfully sorry,” he said, and then scowled first at Tristan and then at the boy. “Who are you?”
“Sam sent him,” Tristan said, and watched Sam go very still. “Sam sent him as a special treat. His name is Ollie.” Tristan put a hand on Ollie’s shoulder, but the boy flinched so he removed it. Tristan watched the emotion play over Sam’s face and found he wanted to weep.
“How old are you Ollie?” he asked the boy after a moment.
“How old would you like me to be?”
Tristan closed his eyes.
“Right.” Sam said, sounding decisive. “Let’s get a few things straightened out.” He bent and picked the boy up and sat him on the edge of Tristan’s bed. “I’m Sam, and I certainly didn’t tell you to come here.”
The child’s eyes widened with horror. “I’m sorry, I…”
“No, no, don’t worry. As I said, my name is Sam, and this is my friend, Tristan. You understand the way of the world and the way of things between men I take it?”
“Yes.” The boy’s voice was a thread.
“Well, Tristan and I are very attached to each other. We both like men, not boys. You are safe here.”
The boy just stared.
Tristan sat beside him. “If we send you back, what will happen?”
“They will give me to someone else.”
“Well then. You must stay here until morning,” Sam said, with cheery pragmatism. “Have you eaten?”
The boy shook his head. “I only get to eat when I have done what they tell me.”
Tristan nodded. “Then we will arrange for some food to be brought to the room.”
Ollie stared at him with confusion, and just the faintest touch of hope. “Really?”
“You two get acquainted, I will go and arrange food.” He ruffled the boys head.
“I will ring for service from my room,” he said to Tristan and disappeared, leaving Tristan alone with the child.
“So, how old are you really, Ollie?” he asked, sitting beside him at a careful distance.
“Twelve.”
“And who really sent you?”
The child fidgeted. “Bill Mosely, but please don’t tell that I told you that, please.”
“Word of honour,” Tristan said, and drew a cross over his heart. “Well, at least that’s that sorted.” Tristan smiled at him but inside his heart was thumping and his head racing. Bill Mosely, here?
“Are you really a lord?” Ollie said, glancing up at Tristan.
“I am. Actually, I’m an earl,” Tristan said with a small smile.
“Do you know the king?”
“I have met him on occasion, but I don’t think I could claim him as a friend.”
“Do you live in a palace like this?”
Tristan scratched his head. “I do rather. Where do you live?”
“I live on a farm. It’s just a little way from here on the way to Hinton. Do you like men then?”
Well, that was direct. Tristan licked his lips and rubbed the back of his neck. “I like Sam,” he said, by way of qualification.
“Is he good to you?”
“Very,” Tristan said softly, and felt as though his heart might physically break. He couldn’t believe he was having such a conversation. The boy was still a child, so youthful, and to have such knowledge was beyond bearing. How in God’s name was he going to send him back?
“What are you going to do with me?”
“Let’s wait for Sam to come back and then decide, hmm?”
The child nodded and fiddled with his nightshirt. Thankfully, the door opened and Sam came back through bearing a tray balanced on one hand.
“Here we are, a feast fit for a king,” he said, and placed the tray expertly on a table.
“Well, he’s an earl so that’s good,” Ollie said, jumping from the bed and scampering barefoot after Sam.
Tristan followed. The tray held what looked like chicken sandwiches, some apples, and a huge pile of macaroons with a cup of milk.
“After you,” Ollie said, eyes wide and hopeful.
“We have eaten. This is for you.”
Ollie stared at Sam as though he couldn’t quite believe him.
“It’s true,” Tristan said, with an encouraging smile.
The child sat and picked up a sandwich, looked at both Tristan and Sam, who nodded and then he fell on the food.
Tristan drew Sam to one side. “What are we going to do with him?”
“Let him fill himself up then he can have my bed and I will share with you.”
“And after that?” Tristan was staring at the boy.
“After that he comes with me. I’ve never seen him at the club before,” Sam said
Tristan put his hands in his hair and held tight. “He said Bill Mosely sent him. Said he lives on a farm nearby.”
Sam’s eyes widened and then he groaned softly. “Bastard must keep children close by for when Overdale has a gathering. Overdale must have connections with Dante’s. Damn and blast it.”
“I think we need to find out where he is, and more to the point, what he is going to do. I can’t imagine this is a coincidence. How the hell does he know you are here?”
Sam scratched his head. “I think we might need to get out of here sooner than I thought.”
Tristan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Who was the chap you talked with at dinner on the first night?”
Sam looked to one side a moment and then grimaced. “Garforth. Asked if we wanted to spice things up. Asked if we wanted to try a different dish.”
“Bastard,” Tristan muttered. “Absolute bastard. He must be involved with Mosely. What does he think we are, for crying out loud?”
“Well, that’s fairly obvious,” Sam said, rubbing his face.
“The absolute bastard,” Tristan muttered, his ire rising by the second. How dare the man.
“Climb down off your high horse. It’s not that uncommon.”
Tristan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Not uncommon?” he said, staring at Sam. “Not uncommon?”
Sam scrubbed his face with a hand. “No. Some men…” He shrugged.
Tristan’s head was racing and the thought that hit him shocked him to the core. “Alfie said that Overdale runs charity organisations for orphans,” he said. “Do you think that he uses them in this way? Is this why he has orphanages?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Sam said.
“What in God’s name?” Tristan was beside himself.
“Are you arguing?” a small voice said, interrupting them.
Tristan whirled to the see the child staring at them with wide wary eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That was appallingly rude of us. Please, eat your meal.” He managed a relatively normal, reassuring tone, but inside he wanted to scream.
Ollie picked up a macaroon half-heartedly and nibbled the edge of it, watching them carefully. He had carefully portioned the food, and appeared to have only eaten half of it.
Sam went and sat beside Ollie and gave him a huge smile. “Well, Ollie, my friend. We need to talk.”
Tristan sat on the bed and watched Sam with the boy. He was wonderful with him. He immediately put him at ease, and his accent changed slightly, losing the cut diction that he used when they were together so that he sounded a little more like someone from the market.
“Do you have family?” he asked him.
“Just a brother. He’s only ten.”
“Does he work the gents, too?”
Ollie nodded and put the macaroon down half-eaten.
“I used to work the gents like you do.”
Ollie stared at him.
“It’s true. I had to do things that I was told to do, even when they were horrid.”
Ollie’s eyes filled with tears and his chin wobbled. “I hate it,” he whispered.
Tristan clamped a hand over his mouth when Sam’s eyes watered
a little, too. “I know. I hated it, too,” he said to the boy. “You said that Bill Mosely sent you?”
Ollie nodded.
“Is Mosely here now?”
“No. He is coming back for us in the morning.”
Sam glanced at Tristan over Ollie’s head.
“Why don’t you sleep in here tonight? Tristan will share with me so you will be quite safe. I am leaving in the morning. I am going to travel north to get away from Mosely. Will you consider coming with me?”
Ollie’s eyes were wide, his mouth open. He swallowed. “I can’t leave my brother.”
“Then we will get him and bring him, too. Is he in the house? How many of you are there?”
Ollie nodded staring at Sam with something close to worship, but tinged with enough doubt to make Tristan’s heart ache. “Arthur is here. I think there is just the two of us tonight, but more will come tomorrow. Can I save this for Arthur?” Ollie pointed to the sandwiches, an apple, and the macaroons that he had saved.
Sam took them and wrapped them carefully in a napkin and put them beside the bed. “Of course. Do you know where he went to?”
Ollie nodded, but before he could say anything more there was a sharp rap on the door, which then opened and Gareth, Alfie and a small boy that bore a striking resemblance to Ollie tumbled through and slammed the door behind them.
Tristan thought he was beyond being shocked, but apparently he wasn’t.
“Arthur!” Ollie jumped off the bed and ran to his brother.
“So you got one, too?” Alfie said, rubbing his chin.
“This is bad,” Tristan said. “There is something most peculiar going on here. How well do you know Overdale?”
Alfie pulled a face and shrugged. “Not terribly well, but well enough to get an invitation.”
“Have you been here before?”
“No.”
“Have you ever been offered…” Tristan gestured in the direction of Ollie and Arthur
“Never.”
All four men looked at each other, and then at the two young boys huddled together. Tristan’s head was spinning.
