by Ava March
Gabriel collapsed beside him. As sleep tugged heavily on his mind, Anthony caught Gabriel’s gaze and smiled. It was surely a smile that more resembled a happy drunkard’s than anything, but he didn’t care. All he knew was that he should definitely laze the day away in bed with Gabriel more often.
* * *
Anthony scrubbed a hand over his face then forced his eyes to focus on the clock on the bedside table. Ten minutes until eight. Was it morning or night? And where was Gabriel?
He glanced about the room. The fire hadn’t burned down to embers yet. Someone—Gabriel—must have recently stoked it. Light leached from under the bedchamber door. Gabriel must be in the parlor.
With one question answered, he pushed up from the bed. After using the necessary and splashing water onto his face, he pulled on his trousers and left the bedchamber.
He found Gabriel seated behind the desk, pencil in hand and clad in a shirt, cravat and waistcoat. Neat stacks of letters covered the desk’s surface, but they weren’t the same stacks Anthony recalled from earlier in the day and there appeared to be more of them.
Gabriel looked up from the ledger before him. “You’re up. Did you get some good rest?”
Anthony nodded. Darkness backed the breaks in the drapes on the parlor windows. That answered his second question. Must be eight in the evening.
“I slipped out about an hour ago and picked up some cold chicken and a bottle of wine from a nearby tavern. It’s in the kitchen. You must surely be hungry.”
His stomach rumbled. “There’s your answer. How long have you been up?” He couldn’t remember Gabriel leaving the bed, but then again, the climax Gabriel had given him had all but knocked him out. A massive storm could have raged outside his window and it wouldn’t have roused him.
“I’ve been up a few hours or so.”
Anthony pulled one of the armchairs closer to the desk and plopped down. “What are you working on?” he asked, with a tip of the head toward the open ledger.
“Well...” Gabriel set down the pencil, a touch of trepidation on his face. “I hope I haven’t taken too many liberties, but I’ve been going through your letters.” He motioned to the stacks on the desk. “Including the ones I found in your bookcase cabinet. Read through them all, and I believe I’ve been able to compile a good accounting of your finances from them. There were correspondences from what I assume is your solicitor’s office, reports from your tenant, Mr. Babbage, reports and invoices from the bank, along with various invitations.”
Dread slammed down onto Anthony’s shoulders. He was almost afraid to ask. No, he was afraid to ask. And he wasn’t prepared to find out he had ruined everything. Not now. Not tonight. Today was supposed to be his day to enjoy just being with Gabriel at the apartments. What the hell had happened to their plan to laze the day away? They had agreed to that, had they not?
“Please, I didn’t mean to overstep my bounds, Anthony. Don’t be angry with me. You were so worried and I was simply trying to help.”
Anthony let out a sigh. “I’m not angry with you.” Well, perhaps he was a bit angry. Irrational, and he knew it. And he knew he couldn’t continue to avoid the truth forever, but... “After this morning, I didn’t want to even think about my goddamned finances until tomorrow.”
“But it’s all right,” Gabriel said, leaning forward. “Your finances, I mean. From what I can surmise, your account isn’t in a dire condition. The balance is lower—by a good measure—than it was when you inherited, and I suspect Mr. Babbage has been pocketing more than his share of the profits from your crops, but you have no reason to be so worried you’ve bankrupted the viscounty. Because you haven’t.”
Anthony blinked. “Pardon?”
“It’s all right, Anthony.” A reassuring smile tipped Gabriel’s lips, then he was once again all business. “I want to go with you to the bank tomorrow, verify the current balance. I don’t know how much you pay your servants in Town—there were no invoices for that expense, so I estimated based on what I know of average wages—but as long as you aren’t paying them each hundreds of pounds a quarter, the balance I arrived at should be very close to the actual.”
“But...how?” How could Gabriel know that with any certainty without having paid a visit to the bank?
“All your bills have been going directly to the Bank of England to be paid from your account. Are you aware of that?”
“I always tell merchants to send the bill to my bank to be settled. I’ve told my mother and Penelope and Simon to do the same.” It had been one of his first decisions when he inherited. An invoice from a modiste meant nothing to him. If a tradesman wanted to be paid, they sent a note to his bank. And since no tradesmen had been knocking on his door, he’d assumed the system had been working.
A hint of a frown touched Gabriel’s forehead. “I understand why you did that, but it leaves you with no visibility as to how much a merchant is actually claiming you owe them until after the bill is paid. An unscrupulous merchant could have used that to their advantage. But to answer your question, the bank has been sending you invoices of each paid expense, along with a quarterly accounting. I used the last report from them, then filled in October and November based on what I found in your letters and arrived at a balance.”
“And you really believe I’m not shillings from nothing?”
“Yes, I do, and with a high level of confidence.”
He hadn’t ruined everything?
It took more than a moment for that to sink into his head. In fact, it rather refused to fully settle into his brain.
“And you’re certain?” Anthony asked again.
Gabriel pushed to his feet and rounded the desk to stand beside Anthony’s chair. He held out his hand. “Yes, you can believe it, Anthony.”
Another moment passed as he stared up into Gabriel’s eyes. Those beautiful grass-green eyes that reflected so much love and trust.
And the worry finally lifted from his shoulders.
He hadn’t ruined everything.
Launching to his feet, he fairly threw himself at Gabriel and hugged his lover. He pressed his face to Gabriel’s neck, as Gabriel’s arms wrapped around him, holding him securely. The most profound relief washed over him, leaving him physically weak. He sagged against Gabriel. “I was so worried,” he whispered.
“I know you were.” Gabriel rubbed a hand over Anthony’s back in soothing circles.
“God, I love you.”
“I love you too.” A pause. “So you aren’t angry with me for overstepping my bounds?”
“Hell, no. Overstep all you like.”
“In that case, I was thinking as I was assembling your ledger.”
Anthony lifted his head. “About what?”
“Why don’t you sit down?” Releasing him, Gabriel nudged him toward the chair.
As Anthony sat down, Gabriel pulled up the other armchair and sat.
Elbows resting on his knees, Gabriel studied his clasped hands. A wrinkle marred his brow. “I know you haven’t wanted to ask for help before, and I understand your reasons.”
“I do recognize that I need to hire someone to help me.” It would be hard to actually take that step, and that was putting it lightly. But he needed to move past the fear of someone else discovering his problem, and to do what was best for the viscounty. “I can’t continue on as I have been or I will be close to nothing before I realize it.” He’d thankfully avoided that fate once and really did not want to tempt fate again.
Gabriel nodded. Then he pulled his spine straight. “I am in need of a position, and you are in need of a secretary. What if I filled that position for you? I’m well-versed on how to manage a property, as I took care of one for the past seven years. I can read all of your correspondences and reports to you, and we can discuss how to reply to each one. It might be an imposition, but.
..” He looked down then met Anthony’s gaze again. “I’d rather not work at some clerking office when I could be working for you instead. And you needn’t pay me.”
“I will most definitely repay you.” Gabriel’s words from earlier this morning—hell, that felt like so long ago—sounded in Anthony’s head.
That damned two thousand pounds. “Are you still feeling guilty over this morning? Is that what this is about? If it is, then my answer is no. You don’t need to work for me because of some notion that you are now indebted to me. That money was not a loan. I gave it to you because you needed it and I love you.”
“But—”
“But no, Gabriel.” Anthony stood from the chair. “I won’t allow you to do it. And as I’ve already told you many times—cease with the guilt.” It didn’t matter how appealing the notion was of working with Gabriel and not some stodgy old secretary who would look down his nose at Anthony. He refused to allow his lover to indenture himself to him under some ill-gotten notion that he had a debt to repay. And Gabriel would do it too, without hesitation if Anthony permitted it.
“But, Anthony, please hear me out.” Getting to his feet, Gabriel reached out, grabbed hold of Anthony’s hand. “I have stopped with the guilt. This isn’t about repaying you,” he stressed. “If you took away the past two days and your need for a secretary, it would still make sense. You want us to live together. That’s not practical in the City for any length of time, but we could do it in the country. If I served as your secretary, your man of affairs or your estate manager—whichever position you prefer—then it would give cause for me to be at your home. We could live together at Hawkins Hall. We’d have to keep separate bedchambers, but maybe they could be next to each other, so it’d be easy for me to slip into your bed at night and slip back into my own before dawn. I could assist you with tending to the estate, and we could go riding together, go shooting together and have meals together. We could spend our days and nights together.”
The picture Gabriel was painting of life in the country materialized in Anthony’s mind. “We could share our lives,” he said, more than a little awestruck.
“Yes.” A smile curved Gabriel’s lips.
He could have what he had always wanted. Always dreamed of. A full life with the man he loved. And Anthony could see that Gabriel was correct—if they wiped the table clean, if Anthony didn’t have any problems reading and if Gabriel hadn’t incurred any gambling debts, then Gabriel’s plan would still be the best way for them to be together.
“I will admit,” Gabriel added, “I do prefer the country over London. So there is a tiny bit of selfishness behind my proposition.”
“I actually prefer the country, as well.” Going for rides in Hyde Park was nice, but it couldn’t rival the feeling of galloping across open fields. He had grown up in Somerset, and while he had tried to push the estate from his mind these past three years and seek out activities to occupy him in London, he did truly miss the place.
“I have come to suspect as much.” Gabriel gave his hand a squeeze. “And I understand you can’t stay in Somerset indefinitely. You could tend to Parliament via the post, but your family is in London. But friends travel together to Town, and I could go with you and stay at these apartments or I could remain at Hawkins Hall. All depends on the time of year and what business needs to be attended to at the estate. So...what do you say? Shall we move to the country?” he asked, hope written all over his handsome face.
A hope that said more than clearly that this was what Gabriel wanted, as well. It wasn’t just about Anthony’s wishes and dreams.
Anthony opened his mouth, the yes on his tongue, then it occurred to him. “But I will pay you a wage, same as I would if I hired a secretary.”
“I would prefer you didn’t.” Gabriel held up his free hand before Anthony could pose an argument. “Not because of this morning, but because it would feel...odd, having you pay me like I was one of your employees. A husband doesn’t pay his wife for managing the household. And I’m not implying I’d act as your wife. We would be more akin to...two husbands, if that makes any sense.”
“It makes all the sense in the world to me.”
“But the notion of two husbands...” Gabriel gave his head a bewildered shake. “It seems very odd, doesn’t it?”
“Perhaps, but I really like it. For us, of course. And I don’t think we would be the only two men who would think of themselves that way.”
Gabriel’s gaze drifted over Anthony’s shoulder, clearly rolling the idea over in his mind. “Morgan and Drake.”
“Yes. And Pelham has a lover who lives very near his Hampshire estate. A situation, I am certain, of Pelham’s design.” The way Tristan seemed so at home at Arrington Park, the besotted, content smile that had lit up Pelham’s face whenever he laid eyes on Tristan. “Those two are definitely more than just lovers. By the way, Pelham’s invited us out for a visit. An open invitation for whenever we’d like to spend some time in Hampshire.”
“A holiday with another male couple?” Gabriel’s brow furrowed, then a smile touched his mouth. “I...I think I like the idea of that.”
Anthony chuckled. “I do, as well. Though, back to the topic of money, I don’t like the notion of you being without any. Even though you will send your bills to my bank, same as any husband or wife would do, you will still have need of money of your own on occasion. A wife receives pin money, so it is not as if a couple doesn’t give each other funds.”
That idea clearly did not appeal to Gabriel. “I will not allow you to give me pin money.”
“All right then.” If Gabriel was dead-set against that option, then Anthony could come up with others to serve the same function. “But what if you kept a percentage of the estate’s profits? Would only be fair for you to share in them—you would be helping to generate them, after all. With the two of us living there, working together, the estate would be more ours than solely mine. If we could marry, what is mine would become yours anyway. And we needn’t decide on the percentage right now. You can think on it in the coming days and suggest a number you are comfortable with. All I need from you today is an agreement that you will share the estate with me. So what do you say?” Anthony asked, throwing Gabriel’s question back at him. “Shall we be husband and husband?”
Saying it aloud, it did sound odd. Yet that was what everything they were discussing came down to—for them to live as a married couple at Hawkins Hall. And when Anthony thought about it, marriage was exactly what he wanted. He wanted that shared life with the person he loved. He wanted the happiness and contentment his parents had enjoyed. To look across the breakfast table every morning and see Gabriel there. The law and the church might forbid such a union, but he’d decided long ago to not allow either to deny him his dream. How exactly that dream would be achieved...well, he’d never quite worked through the specifics before. He just knew what he wanted. And now Gabriel had figured it all out, all the messy details organized in such a way as to give Anthony everything he’d always yearned for.
All that was left was the yes from Gabriel.
“Are you waiting for me to get down on one knee, do the thing properly?” Anthony asked, his heart suddenly in his throat, nervousness gripping him. Gabriel would say yes, wouldn’t he? What if he refused Anthony?
“Please don’t. While there are certainly situations where I relish having you on your knees, this is not one of them.” Gabriel gave Anthony’s hand a gentle tug, pulling Anthony to him. Chest to bare chest, he cupped Anthony’s jaw with his free hand. His gaze turned serious, almost solemn. “Yes. I will be your husband. Will you be mine?”
The most amazing joy filled Anthony’s soul. He threaded his fingers into Gabriel’s hair. “Yes,” he whispered. And breaching the last remaining distance between them, he leaned forward to kiss his husband, sealing their vow.
Epilogue
March 1823
Somerset, England
“And which crop should we plant in the eastern field?” Gabriel asked. Seated behind the desk, he looked up from the ledger, pen poised over the paper.
Early afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows of the study. Clad in a bottle-green coat and buckskin breeches, Anthony set his coffee cup down on a console table, wandered over to the tall bookcases spanning one wall and selected a large leather-bound volume, likely the one containing maps of England. And wandered was definitely the right word for it. When they were in the study going over business, Anthony rarely sat for longer than a short handful of minutes. He’d stroll about the room, inspecting vases, figurines, paintings, candlesticks and books, with pauses every now and then to look out one of the windows. Those who did not know him would think he wasn’t paying the least bit of attention. But Gabriel had learned Anthony wandered when he was mulling over an estate matter or pondering a piece of legislature before Parliament. It was yet another example of how Eton’s strict environment of hours spent hunched over desks had not suited Anthony in the slightest.
And so Gabriel waited patiently while his husband flipped through the pages of the book. Then Anthony placed the volume back on the shelf and made his way over to the end table next to the brown leather couch to pick up the small porcelain figurine of a dog.
Since moving to Hawkins Hall with Anthony almost four months ago, Gabriel had never known such happiness in all of his life. Each morning, Gabriel awoke with Anthony’s arm slung over his waist. After sharing a kiss—and sometimes considerably more than a kiss—he slipped out of Anthony’s bed before the sun broke over the horizon and took the connecting passageway to his own bedchamber, where he rumpled the coverlet before dressing for the day. It meant a very early start to the morning, but Gabriel didn’t even consider it a compromise. He felt like the luckiest of men to be able to spend nights in Anthony’s bed.
They had gone back to London twice thus far—for Anthony to attend the start of Parliament in February and to spend a very pleasant Christmas with Anthony’s family. The Dowager Viscountess Rawling—Anthony’s mother—had welcomed Gabriel at their table for Christmas breakfast and hadn’t questioned that Gabriel had decided to enjoy the holiday in London instead of in Cheshire with his own family. Even while in Town, they hadn’t needed to spend a night apart. Since it was common for friends to stay as guests at another’s home, Gabriel had stayed with Anthony at the bachelor apartments.
