“So,” James said, settling himself into the chair opposite Iain’s and shaking his napkin open. “What do you say to going riding with me this morning? Just you and me for a few hours? No one else.”
Iain grinned. “That sounds perfect. Do you promise no Miss Kirk?”
James laughed. “It’s why I asked you to get up at this god-awful hour. Where shall we go?”
“How about Rowley Tor?”
James paused. It was a fair way. Over two hours out there and the same back—and they’d have to rest the horses in between. Even if they were on their way promptly, it would likely be midafternoon before they were back—and James had promised his mother he would be an attentive host to the Lambs and their niece.
“We could go for a dip on the way back, at that swimming hole in the woods you showed me last year...” Iain’s tone was wheedling.
James glanced out of the window. The cloudless sky promised another glorious day. “A swim would be bliss,” he admitted. And besides, Iain was his guest just as much as Agatha Kirk—more so, in fact, since Agatha had been invited by his mother, whereas Iain was all James’s responsibility. And so far, James had been an exceedingly neglectful host to his friend.
“All right,” he said decisively. “Let’s pop over to the stables once I’ve eaten this and see what’s what.” Iain’s wide grin was all the reward he needed.
They finished their breakfasts quickly after that and headed out for the stables. James’s favourite mare, Treacle, a good-natured if frisky beast, stuck her head out of her stall and whickered softly at him. James went to her and rubbed her nose, fussing over her while Iain looked over the other horses, finally selecting a young, headstrong gelding named Hector.
Less than half an hour later, the horses were saddled and waiting at the front of the house, a simple lunch packed inside their saddlebags.
James mounted first—for all her playfulness, Treacle had a sweet temperament and was fairly easy to handle. Hector was a different story. He was nervous and jumpy, tossing his head and whinnying even as the groom patted his flank soothingly. Not that Iain was intimidated. James had yet to see the horse that his friend could not win over, and Hector was no exception. The man spent a few minutes murmuring to the animal, stroking him soothingly till he ceased his stamping and quieted. Then he swung himself up into Hector’s saddle with easy grace, settling the horse’s renewed jitters with a few soothing noises and pats, moving all the time as though he and the horse were one, his knees nudging the beast’s sides, his hands gentle yet firm on the reins till the gelding calmed.
James rolled his eyes. “Bloody typical. That horse doesn’t like anyone, but already he’s in love with you.”
“Oh, he’s just a big show-off.” Iain grinned, patting Hector’s neck. “He’s happy because he knows how much I admire him.”
“Mr. Hart! Oh, do wait!”
The voice that interrupted their conversation was a young feminine one that already had James’s heart sinking before he’d turned in his saddle and seen its owner, standing at the top of the steps of the manor house.
Agatha Kirk.
She was looking fresh and lovely in a pale green muslin dress, her smile bright as she waved at them.
“I say,” she called down to him. “Are you and Captain Sinclair going riding? We could all go together, if you don’t mind waiting a little longer?”
Dismay hit James hard—he could hardly say no. He opened his mouth to reply, steeling himself to express agreement in a way that didn’t betray how very irritated and disappointed he felt. But before he could get a sound out, Iain was speaking.
“I’m afraid not, Miss Kirk,” he said abruptly. “We have to leave now. We’re riding all the way to Rowley Tor, you see, and can’t afford to lose any time. Sorry.”
He didn’t sound remotely sorry, and James felt an uncomfortable mingling of mortification and relief at having the decision taken so resoundingly—and rudely—out of his hands.
At first, Agatha Kirk just gaped. Then she shut up her open mouth like a trap and eyed Iain for a long, steady moment before turning her gaze back to James.
“Oh well,” she said sadly. “Perhaps another day, Mr. Hart?”
“Of course,” James said, relieved by her gracious acceptance of defeat, even as he knew he was being manoeuvred into something else he wouldn’t want to do.
She smiled shyly and added in a hopeful tone, “Tomorrow?”
“I shall look forward to it,” he lied. Beside him, Iain muttered something under his breath and set Hector to walking down the drive.
Agatha looked pleased, smug, actually, her Cupid’s bow mouth twisting up betrayingly, and for the first time, James felt something for her—a bolt of pure dislike—that went beyond the mere dread with which he’d regarded her to date. With a final curt nod, he wheeled the mare around and set off after Iain at a trot.
“Do not even consider going riding with that chit without me and another female,” Iain said when James caught up with him. His voice was tight with annoyance. “She’s a manipulative little snake. One wrong step and you’ll find yourself so neatly trapped, there’ll be no getting out of it. You’ll be halfway up the aisle before you can stammer out an excuse.”
James shuddered at the thought. “I’ll be the soul of discretion. I have no wish to be caught in the parson’s mousetrap by Agatha Kirk.”
“No, she’d lead you a dog’s life, that one,” Iain agreed. “I can tell by that mean little mouth of hers.” He made a prissy face at James, pursing his lips together and looking down his nose, and James laughed.
“Thank you for stepping in,” he said after a beat. “I’d’ve felt obliged to agree to her suggestion.”
“That’s all right. I know your mother’s expecting you to be a gentleman, but she can’t be surprised at me being a boor. After all, I’m a military man and quite unused to delicate female company.”
“That’s the fattest lie you’ve ever uttered,” James said drily, “and Mama’ll know it too. You may as well prepare yourself for the fact that you’ll be getting a scolding over this.”
Iain chuckled. “That’s all right. I’ll make it up to Miss Kirk by insisting on joining her riding excursion tomorrow and sticking to you both like glue.”
James laughed again.
“Come on,” Iain said then, smiling at James wickedly. “Race you.” He touched his heels to the gelding’s flanks and leaped ahead, and with a whoop, James leaned forwards over Treacle’s neck and bounded after him.
THEY COULDN’T HAVE picked a better day to go for a ride had they planned it in advance. The sun shone bright and warm in a cloudless azure sky.
“What a glorious day,” James said, tipping his head back to enjoy the sun on his face. Beneath him, Treacle’s broad back rocked as she walked slowly along the path.
“Perfect,” Iain agreed. He let out a happy sigh that made the warm, contented feeling in James’s chest grow.
They were on the uphill stretch now, on a wide path that let them walk the horses side by side.
“I’m glad you managed to put Miss Kirk off,” James said. “She’s been rather...persistent.”
Iain snorted. “I acted purely out of self-interest. She’s been hanging around you like a bad smell since I got here. I’ve barely had a chance to talk to you.”
It was true. The girl was everywhere James turned.
“You do realise she sees you as husband material?” Iain said.
James sighed. “I know,” he replied. “I’ve already had words with Mama about inviting her here without my knowledge. I’ve told her in no uncertain terms that I’ve no interest in the girl.”
Iain just pressed his lips together in a firm, unhappy line.
“What?” James said. “Why are you looking like that?”
For a moment he thought Iain wasn’t going to answer him, but after a pause, he said, “If you’re not interested in her, you shouldn’t encourage her.”
James blinked, taken aba
ck both by the accusation and by Iain’s brusque tone. Iain, meanwhile, stared straight forward, his expression unreadable.
“I’ve not been encouraging her,” James said, annoyed. “But she’s a guest of Mama’s. I can hardly ignore her.”
Iain turned his head, meeting James’s gaze. There was a faintly disapproving tightness to his jaw, a slight frown between his brows.
“I’m not suggesting you be rude,” he said. “Merely that you stop paying her particular attentions.”
“Particular attentions? I haven’t—”
“Yes, you have. You took her out walking to see your bee orchid. You sat watching her draw for a whole afternoon. Don’t you realise that a young lady would consider that a mark of particular attention?”
“Her aunt was with us!” James protested.
Iain ignored that. “You accepted the drawing from her,” he said, adding to James’s list of crimes. “A personal gift.”
James stared at him, an oddly panicky feeling gripping him now. Did Agatha Kirk think he’d been paying her attentions? So far as he was concerned, he’d merely been polite.
All at once, Iain sighed, and his condemning look fell away, though his frown stayed in place. “I just want you to be careful, Jamie. It’s not your fault that she’s set her sights on you, but she has. She sees that you’re handsome and eligible, and she’s the sort of girl who’s used to getting what she wants.”
James found himself swallowing hard.
She sees that you’re handsome...
“Perhaps I shouldn’t be warning you off,” Iain went on. “Perhaps she would make you a good wife.” He smiled crookedly at James, though his usually merry blue eyes were sad. “What do you think, Jamie? Could you see her as mistress of Wylde Manor?”
The feeling of warm contentment James had had all morning dissipated. Suddenly, James felt sad, intensely so.
He shook his head firmly. “I don’t want a wife,” he said huskily.
“No?” Iain asked. “Don’t you think you’ll be lonely as a bachelor?”
“I’m not lonely now,” he said. “I’ve got my family, and friends.” He paused. “I’ve got you.”
“You don’t see me very often,” Iain said softly.
“No,” James agreed. “Not nearly as much as I’d like to.”
There was a long moment—as Iain’s blue gaze clouded with what looked very like real pain—when James felt as though he was staring right into his friend’s soul. Then, Iain broke eye contact and picked up the reins he’d been holding loosely in his hands, digging his heels into Hector’s sides to increase the horse’s pace and draw ahead of James.
“Come on,” he called over his shoulder. “We’ll soon be at the Tor.”
Sighing inwardly, James urged his own horse on. The path had begun to narrow, though the incline had lessened, and for a while, they rode at a reasonable trot, James on Iain’s heels. He found himself dwelling on what Iain had said about being lonely without a wife, wondering what Iain had meant by that. Was he was talking about the everyday companionship of sharing another’s life, making a household together? Or was it the deeper intimacy of the marriage bed he was referring to?
When it came to his household, James was perfectly content. Now that his sisters were all married, his mother spent much of her time in London, but whenever she came to spend a few weeks at Wylde Manor, they rubbed along pretty well together—except when she invited prospective brides to visit, that was. Even when she was away, the house ran like clockwork thanks to Wylde Manor’s excellent servants, leaving James free to spend most of his time on his scientific pursuits. It was a life that contented him, for the most part.
The question of intimacy though, that was something that had been occupying his thoughts a great deal recently. Was something, in fact, that he’d been planning to ask Iain about at some point...
They dismounted at the top of Rowley Tor. A pair of kestrels was circling overhead, and James bent his head back, shielding his eyes with one hand to watch them.
“What are you looking at?” Iain asked as he checked over Hector’s legs.
“Kestrels,” James replied softly. He pointed. “Look.”
Iain strolled over to stand beside him, following the direction of James’s gaze with his own. For a while they just watched the little raptors as they wheeled and dipped and hovered in the cloudless sky.
“That one’s seen its dinner,” James said after a while, pointing at one of the birds. The sleek little bird was poised on a wind current, its gaze very fixed on the ground. James fancied he could feel it, quivering with intention, and wondered if Iain felt that too, or if that was something that you only perceived when you’d watched kestrels as often as he had.
Sure enough, after another few seconds, the kestrel swooped, plunging swiftly to the ground, straight as bullet. When it rose up again, an instant later, it had a creature in its talons—a field mouse by the look of it.
“It’s fierce for such a little thing,” Iain said wonderingly.
“Small as it is, it’s a predator through and through,” James replied. “And now it has a good meal to eat.”
Iain lowered his gaze and glanced at James. “Speaking of meals—are you hungry yet?”
“Getting there,” James said. “But I thought we might eat after our swim, if you can wait a bit longer.”
“Agreed,” Iain said, pulling himself back up into the saddle. “Besides, we’ll be halfway back to the house by then, so the horses won’t have too much work left to do.”
They set off again, descending the south side of the Tor this time. It was steeper but shorter and led onto a broad, flat path the horses could take at a comfortable trot.
“May I ask you something?” James blurted out after a while.
Iain glanced at him, curious. “Of course.”
James felt his cheeks flush. “The thing is—well, how do you—obtain male company?”
“Company?”
James cleared his throat. “Carnal relations, I mean.” When Iain just stared at him, looking vaguely horrified, he felt his cheeks heat still further. “Don’t pretend you go without,” he added. “I shan’t believe you.”
To his credit, Iain didn’t even try. He cleared his throat. “What do you want to know?”
“Well,” James began, “Some men keep mistresses, don’t they? Do you have a—an arrangement like that with anyone? A man, I mean?”
“No,” Iain said. Again, he looked curious. “Why? Do you?”
“No,” James replied. “I wouldn’t be asking if I did—though it sounds like a good solution to me.”
“A solution to what?”
“To—well, meeting one’s needs. It is not an easy thing, to find discreet partners. I would prefer a regular arrangement.”
Iain frowned at him. “Have you sought out such an arrangement?”
“I wouldn’t say—” James began slowly, but before he could go on, Iain was interrupting.
“Jamie, you really do need to be careful—”
“I am careful,” James insisted.
Iain didn’t look reassured by that. He shook his head and exhaled hard. “Don’t you realise there are people who prey on men like us?” he said. He was agitated now. “People who would rob you, assault you, blackmail you. Once they have you in a compromising position—” He broke off.
“I’m not a fool, Iain,” James replied, frowning. “I’m careful. And the truth is—well, I’ve only had a handful of encounters with other men.”
“A ‘handful’? How many is that?” Iain demanded.
James raised his eyebrows. “Four, if you must know.”
“Who with?”
“None of your bloody business!” James snapped.
Iain’s shock at James’s angry tone was palpable. He reared back in his saddle a little and for several long, silent moments said nothing. Then he shook his head, almost imperceptibly.
“You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry. I just—I just hate to t
hink of you putting yourself at risk. It worries me. You’re too trusting at times.”
“You don’t need to be so protective,” James replied woodenly, staring straight ahead. “I’m not as foolishly naïve as you imagine.”
Silence fell, the only sound now the clopping of their horses’ hooves on the hard-packed mud path.
Then, into the quiet, James said, “There have been only two men. One was a university friend—three of those four encounters were with him. The last was with a man I met at Kate’s house last year. One of Edward’s cousins.” He shrugged. “I liked him. I wondered if it might be possible to have something more with him, but the opportunity to discuss the matter never came up. It got me wondering, though, what other men like me do.” He glanced at Iain. “Men like us.”
Iain returned his look warily. He said nothing, but his expression said he was listening.
James sighed. “What I’m trying to say is that I’ve never solicited a stranger. Never paid anyone—for that. But, well, I suppose I can see how tempting that could become.” He swallowed. “It’s been almost a year since I met Freddy...”
He looked pleadingly at Iain, begging silently for understanding, and Iain didn’t turn away, though he dropped his gaze and rubbed uncomfortably at the back of his neck.
“It can be tempting to be foolish,” he said at last. “That’s why I have a place I go to. A safe place.”
James swallowed. “What place?”
“It’s a club, of sorts. Somewhere like-minded men go, to meet one another. To meet each other’s needs.”
“What’s it called?” James asked. “Does it have a name?”
Iain gave a small smile as though amused by the question. “Redford’s,” he said. “It’s in London. Membership is by introduction only—the members rely on each other’s trustworthiness.”
“Do you—that is, do you...pay for the company there?”
Iain stared at him, and James wondered if he was offended. He didn’t sound it though, when he finally said, “No. I could if I wanted to, but I prefer to deal with men like myself.”
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