by Ava March
Gabriel’s stride faltered. He shook his head. “It’s September. The water is sure to be chilly this time of year.”
“Shame, that. A man doesn’t make a good showing of himself in cold waters.”
Was Anthony teasing, or was he truly disappointed? “Do people actually swim in the river?”
“There have been those who have been known to take a dip on a hot summer’s evening.”
Well, that begged a certain question. “Have you been one of them?”
“Perhaps.” Anthony chuckled. “Got a bit foxed with some friends. Stiflingly hot night,” he added by way of explanation. “This way.” He took a detour off the path and stopped in the dense shadows under the branches of a tall tree. “My favorite spot.”
“Why?” They had passed other similar trees on their way here, and Anthony hadn’t paused at any of those.
“Close enough to the stream to just hear the water, far enough from the roads to not hear London. That rise over there blocks the view of St. George’s Row. All you can see is green grass dotted with trees. Well, you can’t tell the grass is green at night, but we all know it’s green. And the tree is comfortable to lean against.”
Putting words into motion, Anthony leaned a shoulder against the thick trunk of the tree.
Gabriel looked about, assessing the view. If he didn’t already know he was in the middle of London, he would never guess it. If not for the sound of the stream, they could be at his childhood home in Cheshire, in the very field he had once walked across with Anthony.
“So, now that you are no longer married, what are your plans?” Anthony asked, his tone casual yet interested.
“I haven’t yet decided.” And that was God’s own truth. He didn’t want to return to Derbyshire, yet before tonight, he hadn’t considered staying on in London.
“Will you search for another wife?”
Gabriel shook his head. Definitely no.
“That’s good to...see.” Though it was too dark to make out Anthony’s features, Gabriel could hear the smile in his voice.
“You’d said you won’t marry because you won’t find love with a woman. So have you found love elsewhere yet?” Gabriel had no right to pry, but he needed to know—had Anthony fallen in love with another? Even if he was no longer with that other, had there been a time when Anthony had cared so deeply for another man as to be in love?
Had Anthony once truly loved him?
Damnation, he did not want to know the answer to that question.
“No, though it’s not for want of looking.”
“What do you mean by that?” And hell, he hoped he hadn’t sounded as jealous as he suddenly felt.
“I’m three-and-twenty, Gabriel. I’m not a monk, and I know how to be discreet. I also know what I want out of life, and I have no qualms having a look about London for it.” He pushed from the tree and took a step, putting him directly before Gabriel. “Or about Hyde Park,” he added, voice low, filled with intent.
There was a brush of warm skin against Gabriel’s hand. As if of its own volition, his hand reached out, and he slid his fingers between Anthony’s.
Anthony moved that last critical distance closer to him. Their breaths mingled in the cool night air.
If he didn’t kiss Anthony, then it was just an evening between old friends. Nothing more.
But he wanted to kiss Anthony, so badly he could already feel the soft press of Anthony’s lips, already had the sweet taste of him on his tongue.
He felt his body begin to sway toward Anthony, toward those soft lips. Catching himself, he leaned back. “Not here.” What had he been thinking? If nothing else, they were at a public park.
“There’s no one here but us,” Anthony murmured, as if able to read Gabriel’s thoughts. “And even if someone else decided to go for a walk, the shadows are too dense under the tree for them to see anything.”
“Not here,” Gabriel repeated.
“Then where?”
“I should head back home. It’s getting late.” The excuse sounded hollow even to his own ears. It couldn’t be eleven o’clock yet, and he wasn’t close to tired. But his head felt much too full and Anthony was much too near, to the point that he couldn’t trust himself to make the right decisions. He needed time to think.
Hell, that was the last thing he needed.
“You’re right,” Anthony said, with an unmistakable touch of disappointment in his otherwise casual tone. “It is getting late.” Releasing Gabriel’s hand, he turned and then stepped out from under the tree. “Come along, we’ll go out near St. George’s Row. That will put us closer to Sarah’s town house.”
“Anthony,” he called, as he caught up with him. “Thank you again for the evening. For everything.”
“You’re welcome.” A smile curved Anthony’s mouth, but even in the weak moonlight, Gabriel could tell it wasn’t one of Anthony’s usual carefree smiles. “Perhaps some night when you aren’t busy playing escort, you’ll allow me to show you more of London.”
“Yes, I’d like that.” He reached out, took hold of Anthony’s hand and gave it a squeeze. And the disappointment vanished from Anthony’s smile.
* * *
The hackney hit another bump, jostling Gabriel on the bench. The roads in this end of Town rivaled those in Derbyshire after a hard rain. But even the rough ride couldn’t shake the worries free from Gabriel’s mind.
Why had he gone to the park with Anthony? He knew the answer—because I wanted to be near him. But just because he wanted something didn’t mean he should have it.
He had been in love with Anthony since he had been seventeen years old. He could even define the moment when it had happened. Late spring in the early evening, and Gabriel had gone into an empty lesson room at Eton in search of a quiet place to study. As he’d entered the room, he had spotted his brother’s friend climbing out an open window. “What are you doing?” Gabriel had asked. Anthony’s blond head had snapped up. Then the surprise vanished and he flashed a smile. “Having a bit of fun. Don’t tell anyone you saw me, all right?” At Gabriel’s nod, Anthony had disappeared out the window. Concerned Anthony had fallen, Gabriel had rushed to the window only to see Anthony beginning to run toward the open field. Elbows pumping and gangly legs working, Anthony had glanced over his shoulder—a wide grin on his mouth, eyes sparkling with pure joy—and caught Gabriel’s gaze. And in that brief moment, Gabriel’s entire world had shifted on its axis.
It had taken him over a year to work up the courage to kiss Anthony. Over a year of fighting himself, of his heart aching for someone he shouldn’t have, of wondering whether Anthony felt the same way toward him. Over a year of wanting, hoping, needing in silence. He’d had the gift of a moment, mere minutes, with Anthony in his arms. And the very next day, Gabriel had done the unthinkable.
He should have protected Anthony seven years go. He hadn’t then, and he needed to guard against making the same mistake twice.
At least he’d kept from kissing him tonight.
But then Anthony had been disappointed he hadn’t kissed him, and...
Gabriel let out a heavy sigh. He wanted far more than a kiss from Anthony, and that was the problem.
If he was still married, he’d still be in Derbyshire. Still have that yoke pressing down on his shoulders. Wouldn’t have a fresh taste of Anthony’s smiles, his teasing wit. Wouldn’t have the temptation to take what he didn’t deserve.
The hackney jerked to a stop. Gabriel got out, paid the jarvey, and walked the short distance to the nondescript building. He pushed open the door, gave a nod to the burly guard and went inside of The Old Goose. Like a thick winter blanket, the shouts and the many conversations, the flick of cards and the distinct clink of dice being thrown, muffled the riot in his head. He cast his gaze over the tables before him. Half-past midnight, and the
place was in full swing. Men were packed around the gaming tables, the barmaids buzzing around fetching drinks for patrons.
Should he try something different? The roulette wheel hadn’t been kind to him of late...but maybe tonight luck would shine down on him. He had never been much good at cards, and he still didn’t have a handle on the rules of Hazard.
Stretching his spine, he looked over the heads of the other patrons and spotted a roulette table near the back that wasn’t overly crowded. That one would do.
He made his way across the room, squeezed into a spot near the roulette wheel and reached into his pocket to pull out a thin fold of pound notes. If tonight was a repeat of last night, then he’d need to stop at the bank tomorrow, withdraw some more funds. But he doubted that would be necessary. Tonight would be different. He could feel it. The wheel wanted to reward him.
After exchanging his pound notes for a stack of chips, he studied the table. Best to start with something easy and with low odds. He placed two chips on black.
Anticipation seeped under his skin as the croupier called an end to the betting.
“Care for a drink?” a barmaid asked him.
Gabriel shook his head, his attention fixed on the wheel. The croupier set it to spinning. The red and black numbers around the perimeter became a blur. The little white marble dropped down to zip about the wheel. And the heavy press of guilt and worry temporarily slipped away.
Chapter Three
Anthony inclined his head in greeting to an acquaintance who was picking up his overcoat from a footman, and crossed the entrance hall. An afternoon at Angelo’s Fencing Academy could cause one to build up an appetite. As it was quicker and more convenient to have dinner at White’s than to ask the town house’s kitchen to make him an early meal without advance notice, he’d decided to stop at his club after washing up.
He made his way up the main stairs, its broad widths of polished wood and carved banisters gleaming under the light of the chandelier overhead. The low drone of male voices filled the air. With Parliament out of session until February, and given the way the sky was threatening rain showers, White’s was sure to hold a decent crowd. He should have no problem finding someone to share a table with for dinner.
As he took the last step, he scanned the hall, on the lookout for a potential dinner companion. And spotted a familiar gorgeous gentleman leaving the dining room.
The smile had spread across Anthony’s mouth before he could even make an attempt to temper it.
“Gabriel,” he called, as he crossed the hall. “Fancy seeing you here. I wasn’t aware you were a member.” Three days had passed since he’d seen Gabriel. Three days that suddenly felt exceedingly long.
“Good afternoon.” Gabriel gave him a polite tip of the head. The touch of a welcoming smile curving his lips chased away the worry that Gabriel had been deliberately avoiding him. “I’m not a member. I bumped into Foster on the street, and he was kind enough to offer to bring me as his guest for an early dinner. You’re acquainted with Bramm Foster, are you not?”
Anthony shifted his attention to the red-haired man who stood at Gabriel’s left. Tall and broad of build, Foster made for a formidable sparring opponent, though Anthony hadn’t even noticed he was with Gabriel until Gabriel had mentioned him.
Anthony stuck out a hand. “I’m well acquainted with Foster and his right hook. Landed me on my arse a couple of days ago.”
“You didn’t stay there, though,” Foster said good-naturedly, as he shook Anthony’s hand. “Jumped right back to your feet and knocked the wind out of me. Have you pummeled anyone else at Jackson’s recently?”
“Unfortunately not. I was at Angelo’s this afternoon and got bested by Anderson.”
“Got to watch out for him. He’s not only skilled, but persistent.” Then Foster turned to Gabriel. “It was good to see you today, Tilden. Don’t hesitate to call on me if you are of a mind to pay another visit to White’s. Now I must be off to my tailor. Mustn’t keep him waiting, else he’s apt to vent his frustrations by cutting my drawers too snug.” With that, Foster left Anthony alone with Gabriel.
How convenient of Foster to have taken himself off without Anthony having to expend the effort to disengage him from Gabriel.
And how was it Gabriel always managed to appear perfectly put together? The knot of his cravat was never askew, his coat always void of a single wrinkle. Anthony didn’t consider himself a slovenly fellow, but life tended to leave one a tad rumpled. It was almost five in the evening, and Gabriel appeared as though a valet had just finished with him.
“Are you off to anywhere in particular?” he asked Gabriel.
“No, not at the moment.”
Since Gabriel had just walked through the dining room’s double doors, that meant he’d likely just finished that early dinner with Foster. Ah well. Anthony’s stomach could wait. “Care to play a game of billiards with me?”
A pause.
Anthony pushed down the impatience and waited for Gabriel to respond.
“All right. Does White’s have a table?”
“White’s has an entire room filled with tables. They call it the Billiard Room—novel name, that—and it’s on the ground floor. Come along, and I’ll show you.” Hopefully the place wouldn’t be too crowded. He didn’t relish the idea of having to join another pair’s table and sharing Gabriel’s attention with someone else.
Luck was with him, and while the Billiard Room was crowded, it wasn’t overly so, and they were able to find an open table in a back corner.
“Do you play much in Derbyshire?” Anthony asked, as he positioned the three balls on the green baize.
“Billiards? No, not at all. I don’t have a table at the house.”
“Does that mean you are out of practice?”
Gabriel nodded.
Had Gabriel’s last game been the one he’d shared with Anthony at the summer house party? For some reason, Anthony very much liked that notion. As if Gabriel had saved a part of himself just for him. “Should I go easy on you then?”
“There’s no need to coddle me,” Gabriel said, bristling slightly. “I’m a grown man.”
A grown man who had refused to kiss him in the dense night shadows under a tree in an empty park.
With a mental sigh, Anthony pushed aside the disappointment and selected a cue from the rack on the nearby wall. After all, he had decided the morning after their walk that he had no reason to be so disappointed. The refusal hadn’t necessarily been a refusal of him. Perhaps Gabriel simply hadn’t been comfortable sharing a kiss at Hyde Park, no matter the companion or the hour of the night. Gabriel had lived most of his life in the country, and sodomy was a crime, after all.
But he kissed you in the pond.
But Gabriel had been younger then. Perhaps age—and marriage—had made him more cautious.
Anthony would never know until he got Gabriel behind a closed, and locked, door. And now that he’d been denied, he was determined to get a kiss from Gabriel. For one kiss should be able to tell him whether or not there was truly a possibility for more between them.
With that thought in mind, he threw Gabriel a smirk, hoping it would chase away the remnants of that bristle of male pride. “Then I hope you don’t mind a trouncing. Since I extended the invitation for the game, it’s for you to decide who goes first.”
Gabriel inclined his head. “The honor can be yours.” Then he lowered his voice. “I could use a bit of a lesson before my turn, in any case.”
“That, I can provide. Well, hopefully. Wouldn’t want to puff myself up too much then completely miss the ball.” He leaned over the table. “A light but firm hold on the stick, line up your shot, don’t let your focus stray, then...” The smack of felt against ivory rent the air. The white ball made a direct hit, exactly where he’d been aiming. Anthony straighte
ned and took a step back, relinquishing the table to Gabriel. “That’s how it’s done.”
“Good shot, but I doubt I shall achieve the same result.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Anthony said with a shrug. “Been living in London and coming here for the last five years. The town house also has a billiard room, though I don’t play that table often as I don’t spend the majority of my time there.”
Gabriel’s gaze passed over the table. “Then where do you spend the majority of your time?”
There was that hint of possessive jealousy again. It shouldn’t make Anthony smile—they weren’t together, they hadn’t even shared a kiss—still, he smiled. Plus, Gabriel had voiced just the question Anthony wanted him to ask.
“I spend most of my nights at my old bachelor apartments. The ones I purchased when I first moved to Town.”
Gabriel moved down a couple of paces then bent to line up his shot. Anthony couldn’t stop his attention from lingering on Gabriel’s arse. If only Gabriel was naked—and if only they weren’t at White’s—then Anthony could drag his hand down the crease, cup Gabriel’s ballocks.
“But the town house became yours when you inherited, correct?”
Anthony dragged his gaze from Gabriel’s arse and to the man’s face. “Yes. But my mother has preferred the City since my father passed away. There’s more to amuse her in London, Penelope’s been on the marriage mart, and the country house holds too many fond memories of my father for her. It made sense for them to take up permanently at the town house, and Simon stays there when he’s down from Oxford. So I’ve kept the bachelor apartments.”
“That’s kind of you.” Gabriel slid his stick between his fingers, a wrinkle marring his brow as he focused on the ball.
Anthony waited until Gabriel had taken his shot, then said, “Thank you, but my motives are not purely altruistic. While I have a bedchamber there and stop by frequently, living with one’s mother could rather put a damper on an evening.”
