Restored (Enlightenment Book 5)

by Joanna Chambers

  Restored

  Joanna Chambers

  Restored

  Eighteen years ago, Henry Asquith, Duke of Avesbury had to leave his kept lover, Kit Redford, in order to devote himself to raising his young family. Now, a lifetime later, his children are moving on and for the first time in years, Henry is alone.

  During a rare visit to London, Henry unexpectedly happens upon an old friend of Kit’s and learns that Kit did not receive the financial pay off he was entitled to when Henry left him. Instead Kit was thrown out of his home and left destitute. Horrified, Henry begs Kit to see him and allow Henry to compensate him. But Kit, who now owns a discreet club for gentlemen of a certain persuasion, neither needs nor wants Henry’s money.

  “Perhaps you should earn the money you owe me the way I had to earn it? On your knees, and on your back, taking my cock like a whore.”

  Kit thought he had put his old hurts and grievances about Henry behind him, but when he sees Henry again, he discovers that, not only is the old pain still there, so is the fierce attraction that once burned between them. When, in a moment of fury, Kit demands a scandalous form of penance from Henry, no one is more surprised than Kit when Henry agrees to pay it.

  As Kit and Henry spend more time together, they learn more about the men they have become, and about the secret feelings and desires they concealed from one another in the past.

  Henry realises he wants to build a future with Kit but can he persuade his wary lover to trust him ever again? And can two men from such different worlds make a new life together?

  Restored

  Copyright © 2020 Joanna Chambers

  Cover art: Natasha Snow

  Editor: Louisa Keller

  Published by Joanna Chambers

  ISBN: 978-1-9996720-6-5

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or business establishments or organisations is completely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  I. London, July 1808

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  II. London, April 1826

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Thank you, dear reader

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Joanna Chambers

  I

  London, July 1808

  1

  Kit

  It was after one o’clock in the morning when Henry finally arrived at the little house in Paddington Green.

  Kit had dined and bathed and was curled up in a velvet-upholstered armchair by the fire. He’d been indulging in his favourite daydream—walking through some idyllic stretch of English countryside with Henry by his side, his faithful, beloved companion—but he must have dropped off, because he woke with a start when a familiar deep voice said, “Christopher? Are you sleeping?”

  Kit blinked, briefly discombobulated, then scrambled out of his chair, his smile bursting out over his face as he took in the welcome sight of his lover standing in the doorway of the cosy parlour, elegant in his evening clothes. God, but Henry looked magnificent. His wide shoulders filled his black evening coat most satisfactorily.

  “You came,” Kit said happily, rushing forward to greet him.

  Henry closed the door behind him and stepped towards Kit, eyes glittering as he took in the loose, midnight-blue robe that only partially concealed Kit’s lithe body.

  “I’m rather later than I hoped to be,” Henry said, sliding his hands inside the robe and up over Kit’s shoulders. The movement was a caress and a disrobing in one. The fabric slid off Kit's shoulders and down his arms, puddling round his feet like a sapphire pool, the silk gleaming in the candlelight like water.

  Henry gazed at Kit’s naked body with unhidden pleasure. “I’m glad to find you still up. I was afraid you’d have gone to bed and I’d have to rouse you.”

  Kit’s smile was so big, it made his face hurt. All the hours of impatient waiting were forgotten now that Henry was here. Just being with him again made Kit's heart lift.

  Deep down, he knew that he was being foolish. He was just a kept boy. His desires were quite irrelevant to the question of when Henry chose to use him—the man was at liberty to show up when he wanted, and if Kit had any sense, he’d treat their time together as work. But it didn’t feel like work, not with Henry.

  And Kit didn’t feel like a whore when they were together.

  Kit pressed his naked body against Henry’s clothed one, winding his arms about Henry’s waist as he lifted his face for a kiss.

  “I’ve missed you,” he told his lover truthfully, though he smiled teasingly as he said it. He always made sure to keep things light with Henry. Henry had so many responsibilities and obligations in his life—he came to Kit for relaxation and pleasure, and Kit prided himself on providing just what Henry needed.

  “Have you?” Henry rumbled, his lips curving into a smile. His big hands moved possessively over Kit’s slim body, one sliding down to caress Kit’s left buttock. “Or has your arse been missing my cock?”

  Crude words, but the teasing warmth in Henry’s voice and the glint of humour in his eye made it a lovers’ shared joke. Kit gave him a sly look and pushed closer. “Perhaps a little of both.”

  Henry’s chuckle made Kit giddy with happiness. He loved being able to make this serious man—so terribly serious at times—laugh.

  Henry leaned in close, his satin breeches brushing against Kit’s sensitive naked flesh, his warm breath gusting over Kit’s cheek. “Shall we reacquaint them then?” he whispered into Kit’s ear, making him gasp with laughter and hunch his shoulder. “My cock and your lovely arse?”

  “God, yes,” Kit breathed and turned to press his lips to Henry’s. Henry groaned and pulled him closer, pressing his tongue deep into Kit’s mouth, kissing him so thoroughly, Kit’s head began to swim.

  When Henry drew back he said, “Here, or upstairs?”

  Kit’s answering laughter was soft. “Here first,” he said. “Bed later.” And God but he loved the way Henry’s eyes glittered at his words.

  Henry was a lusty man, and Kit knew he loved that Kit’s appetite was as insatiable as his own.

  Before he’d entered Henry’s protection Kit had sometimes had to fake the strength of his own urges with his clients. Oh, he’d always been able to get it up—he was a young, healthy male, and was fortunate that his profession of servicing other men aligned with his own preferences—but it was only with Henry that his personal desires had ever matched those of his protector. Maybe even surpassed them.

  With Henry, though, everything was different.

  “Let’s get your coat off,” Kit said.

  He helped Henry off with his skin-tight coat, then unbuttoned his ivory silk waistcoat and unwound the elegant froth of linen about his neck. When Henry went to undress further, Kit stopped hi
m.

  “I like you with some clothes,” he said, and Henry grinned because he did too, when Kit was naked. He let Kit tug him toward the armchair Kit had been sitting in when Henry first arrived, let Kit unbutton his breeches and push him into the chair, landing with an oof of good-humoured laughter that turned to a groan as Kit sank gracefully to his knees.

  Henry drew out his cock as he watched Kit fold his body down into the submissive pose. The strength of Henry’s desire was very evident from the stone-hard shaft and weeping, rosy head. Not to mention Henry’s hiss of almost pained pleasure as Kit leaned forward and took his thick cock deep into his throat. Kit loved the noises Henry made, and the sliding curve of his big hand as he palmed Kit’s golden head.

  “Oh, Christopher,” he breathed. “You are so very good. So very beautiful.”

  Kit’s moan in response was heartfelt. Because yes, this may be service, but it was still a pleasure. His pleasure and Henry’s both.

  He stayed there, on his knees, for a good few minutes, enjoying Henry. Enjoying his lover. Henry, who had somehow become, in ten short months, Kit’s entire world. His keeper and master.

  The master he could reduce to a begging heap with his mouth.

  “Oh God, Christopher—stop,” Henry pleaded at last, “before I spend in your mouth. Let me inside you.”

  Kit raised his head. Henry’s expression was abandoned, full lips open, cheeks flushed, dark hair in disarray. His big body was sprawled out in the chair like an offering. Kit loved that sight—loved to see this powerful, beautiful man dazed with lust.

  Let me inside you.

  He loved that Henry didn’t order him around, as though Kit was his slave. That he asked Kit for his favours, as though they were true lovers.

  That when Henry said his name, it felt as though he was speaking of something—someone—he adored.

  Scrambling to his feet, Kit clambered on top of Henry, straddling him so they were face to face. He’d oiled himself earlier in readiness for Henry’s arrival, and so it was that he only had to grasp the man’s shaft in his hand and lower his body slowly down, taking Henry’s beautiful cock into his body in a slow, undulating slide that had them both gasping.

  “Kiss me,” Kit demanded once Henry was fully seated inside him, and Henry obliged, taking Kit’s mouth eagerly as his cock pressed deep and his strong hands settled on Kit’s hips, urging him to rise up and sink down on Henry’s thick shaft.

  Kit was near sobbing with pleasure by now. Henry fit him so well. With each upwards stroke, the blunt end of his cock grazed that sensitive spot inside Kit that made him practically combust. He loved each brutal, tender stroke, and the scrape of Henry’s evening beard against his chin as they kissed. Henry’s strong fingers digging into his hips. The evidence of Henry’s passion would be written on Kit’s body tomorrow in pale blue smudges, and Kit gloried in it.

  Henry tore his mouth from Kit’s. “Christopher,” he gasped. “I can’t hold back any longer. Let me see you spend. Please.”

  Kit groaned and let his climax take him, his hand working his cock as his lithe body moved, his spend exploding from him in blood-warm pulses, spattering Henry’s chest and neck. And then Henry was coming too, his hands holding Kit firmly in place as his cock pumped seed into Kit’s body, flooding his arse.

  They sagged against one another, foreheads damp, breath mingling as they panted. At length, as their harsh breathing quieted, Henry turned his face, kissing Kit’s cheek, and stroking his hair with a gentle hand. It felt so perfect—Kit had to bite his tongue to stop himself blurting out something foolish. Henry’s tenderness always did him in, these after-gestures so sweet they made his eyes sting.

  At last, when he felt he had himself under control, he pulled back to look at Henry. Henry’s head was lolling against the back of the armchair now, and his smile was lazy, his eyes warmly contented.

  “You look happy,” Kit said softly.

  He wished he hadn’t spoken when he saw Henry’s smile wilt a little and his grey gaze cloud over with something Kit recognised as guilt. He knew that Henry loved their time together, but he knew too that Henry was devoted to his family… and that he saw his need for Kit as a weakness.

  It made Kit afraid that one day, Henry would decide he should not come any more.

  And that day may come all too soon. In two months, their year’s contract would be at an end, and it would be for Henry to decide whether to renew it.

  Henry forced his smile back, raising his brows teasingly. “How could I not be happy?” he said. “When I have the most beautiful boy in London, all to myself?”

  Kit saw the move for what it was—Henry swerving away from that brief moment of heartfelt intimacy, reaching for something light and easy instead.

  “Christopher?” Henry said tentatively. “Is something wrong?”

  A lump rose in Kit’s throat, and his heart grew heavy in his chest, even as he reminded himself of Mabel’s long-ago advice:

  "Always be agreeable; never complain. You are your protector’s refuge from his other cares. If you can be that, he’ll keep you in luxury, and when you part, you’ll still be friends.”

  Their bargain was really very simple: Kit’s smiling service for Henry’s gold. The truth was, Henry had neither asked for, nor did he want, Kit’s affection.

  “No, nothing’s wrong,” Kit said softly, forcing himself to smile. “Quite the opposite. Everything’s wonderful.” He began the awkward business of uncoupling himself from Henry and getting back to his feet. Henry didn’t press the point, but Kit felt the man’s gaze on him as he lifted his robe from the floor and slid it over his shoulders again.

  Kit made himself turn, made himself smile at Henry invitingly and lift his eyebrows. “Are you coming to bed?”

  The last remnants of Henry’s frown dissolved, his eyes warming with humour. “Yes, but I’ll need to sleep. I’m weary to my bones.” He yawned, then stood, tucking himself inside his breeches again before heading for the door.

  Kit bent and picked up the coat and cravat Henry had discarded. He did not like to leave their discarded clothes on the parlour floor for the servants to tidy away. The house had only one live-in servant, Hodge, an old retainer of the Asquith family who Henry trusted implicitly and who slept in the butler’s rooms, just off the kitchen. Hodge retired to his rooms each evening, only coming out to admit Henry when he visited before returning to his own quarters. The other servants went home each evening after tending to Kit’s needs.

  Kit extinguished the candles in the parlour, then followed Henry out into the hall and up the short flight of stairs to the master bedchamber where Henry was already wearily pulling off the rest of his clothes.

  Kit picked up each discarded item and carefully hung them in the wardrobe, twitching the crumpled fabric straight to encourage the creases to fall out.

  By the time he crawled into bed, Henry was already breathing rhythmically, his eyelids closed.

  “You look exhausted,” Kit murmured, pressing a kiss to Henry’s broad shoulder.

  “Been up since five,” Henry mumbled. “Long day.”

  Kit leaned over and blew the candle beside the bed out, letting darkness swallow up the room. “Good night.”

  Henry gave a little grunt of contentment and turned onto his side. In less than a minute his breaths had slowed and lengthened as sleep took him over.

  Kit couldn’t sleep though. He lay awake in the darkness, Henry’s words playing over and over in his mind.

  “I have the most beautiful boy in London, all to myself.”

  They weren’t terrible words. He hadn’t called Kit his whore or belittled him in any way. And yet… Henry could have speaking about a prize stallion, or a beautifully-tailored coat, and Kit couldn’t rid himself of the sudden, lowering conviction that he was just a thing to Henry, perhaps a much-cherished thing, but still, a thing, not a person.

  Why did he keep torturing himself by allowing himself to imagine otherwise? How else could he expect Henry
to think of him? For Christ’s sake, when they’d met Kit had been wearing nothing but a skimpy, near-transparent tunic and had been sprawled over the lap of one of the several men who, at that time, were vying to become his new protector.

  He’d been selling himself. Advertising his wares and handing out a few free samples. Letting the goods be well and truly examined.

  Well, that was the kind of man Kit was. One who could be bought outright with gold.

  “I have the most beautiful boy in London, all to myself.”

  Kit made himself face the truth. He was a thing—an object to be used. And for now, he was Henry’s, fairly bought and paid for. Paid to provide services; to fulfil Henry’s desires, not his own.

  He had to remember that.

  Henry wasn’t looking for someone to love. He had a wife. A woman to whom he was—in his own words—devoted. Four children whom he adored. They were his life.

  Kit was just the beautiful boy Henry fucked twice a week.

  And if Kit had been foolish enough to lose his heart to the man—to his client for God’s sake—that was his own damned fault.

  2

  Henry

  As usual, Henry left just before dawn.

  Christopher was still sleeping when he climbed out of bed, and for a minute, Henry just stood there, staring at Christopher’s comely face, relaxed and peaceful in sleep.