Skylark

by Jo Beverley

  Henry looked outraged, but HG laughed with a faun’s guiltless merriment. It made Laura smile, too, but how had these two very different men come together?

  “I assure you,” Stephen said, “that I stopped listening as soon as I realized, and even then, I thought you man and woman. I hadn’t seen you then, sir,” he added to the younger man.

  “I’m glad there’s no doubt,” Des said with a coy flutter that was obviously put on for effect. He was a bewildering mix of masculinity and beauty that Laura found hard to fit into any slot in her mind. She abandoned the effort.

  “I’m learning a great deal,” she said, “but I still understand nothing. Could we perhaps have a name? Des, I think?”

  He cast a questioning glance at his lover, then said, “If you wish. It’s short for Desdemona, though.”

  Another piece clicked into place. “ ’Thello, not ‘Fellow, ’ ” Laura exclaimed. “The moor and his fair wife.”

  For some reason that did embarrass her, especially when her mind began to fill in some of what she’d listened to. She’d known that some men preferred male lovers. She’d even known some men who were clearly of that type. She’d never before thought about it as another form of marriage.

  The moment was interrupted by a knock on the door. Nicholas opened it.

  The thin maid bobbed a curtsy. “There’s a Mr. Watcombe here, sir, looking for his daughters!”

  Chapter 45

  Suddenly panicked, Laura sucked in a breath and looked at Stephen. “I’d forgotten Father. Here comes our need to explain everything.”

  “I admit,” said Henry, not without an edge, “that I am curious as to why my cousin’s widow was staying at an inn in disguise, with a lover.”

  Laura grabbed Stephen’s arm before he could react to that. “Don’t cast stones, sir. You are dependent on our goodwill.”

  “It seems I have a weapon to hold against you, however.”

  “Not equal to ours,” Stephen said grimly. “Our sin is not a capital crime.”

  Henry jerked as if hit, and Des paled.

  “You see, then, why I cannot become Lord Caldfort. I will not separate from Des. I will not marry and beget an heir.” He rested his hand on his lover’s shoulder. “We have come too far and suffered too much to be separated now.”

  “But—”

  Nicholas cut Stephen off. “Not now, Steve. You and Laura have to go and pacify her father and get his blessing. We will leave Mr. Gardeyne and his companion in peace to talk things over, and resume this later.” But he added to Henry, “It would lend more dignity to your companion for him to have a full name.”

  Henry’s dark skin hid it, but Laura suspected he blushed. “You’re right.” He looked down at the blond man. “What name do you want to use, Des?”

  “Not the one I was born with. I like being Des.”

  “Despard,” Laura offered. “It was one possibility I came up with to fit with Des. Egan Despard, perhaps? The anagrams were very clever.”

  “We played with them,” Des said. “ ’Thello and I. I’m very good at it. Draycombe, for example, throws up both my brocade and cream body. Which,” he added, in that lid-lowered, wicked way he had, “are very pleasing images.”

  Laura couldn’t help thinking of him as a naughty child, and she shook her head at him before leaving with Stephen to face her father. “What’s going to become of him?” she asked as they hurried down a corridor. “He seems both wicked and unworldly.”

  “Gardeyne will look after him, I assume. You’re not too shocked?”

  She stopped to look at him. “I thought I’d shown you last night that I’m no delicate bloom. I was never wicked, Stephen, and I kept my marriage vows, but Lady Skylark moved in racy circles.”

  He smiled and drew her close for a light kiss. “I can’t complain, but it will take me a little while to adjust. Be patient.”

  To prove her point, she deepened it, pressing him against the wall, moving against him, feeling his response. . . .

  Father!

  She pushed back and straightened her stern gown.

  “I know,” he said, “your father’s waiting, and we probably shouldn’t appear looking too thoroughly kissed. But,” he added, “I don’t think I can wait until Gaudete Sunday to rejoice again.”

  She smiled and suspected she blushed, not with embarrassment but with desire.

  “Me neither. We’ll find ways.”

  Breathless with need, she pulled him on and down the stairs.

  They found her father in the drawing room, which was surprisingly normal, with silk wallpaper and plaster cornices and inoffensive landscapes hanging on the wall.

  Her father, however, was in a stern mood.

  “What’s this all about, Laura?”

  With a gulp, Laura plunged into the truth, leaving out only the fact that she and Stephen had anticipated their wedding.

  Fortunately, he latched on to Jack’s behavior. “Such wickedness! Are you sure, Laury?”

  “As sure as I can be.”

  “And there’s little doubt that he set the fire in Draycombe, sir,” Stephen added.

  Her father shook his head. “What a terrible thing. But to be poking around in someone’s desk, Laury . . .”

  “If I hadn’t, heaven knows what might have happened, Father.”

  “But why couldn’t you have told us? You always were impetuous.”

  Laura managed not to look at Stephen. “I wasn’t sure, you see. I had no evidence, and I knew you’d be too fair-minded to act without.”

  She prayed that would appease him, and it seemed to. “Well, that’s discreet, I suppose. And you were wise enough to disguise yourself. But if you’d been detected, love!”

  “We were very careful, and see, this has brought Stephen and me back together. I hope you’ll give us your blessing, Father. We hope to marry from Merrymead in December.”

  That turned his mind to much happier channels.

  “It’ll be grand to have you close, Laury. You’ll be refurbishing Ancross, then, Stephen?”

  The two men talked a little of such practical matters.

  Then her father looked at Laura. “You’ll have a complicated life, Laury, what with Stephen’s political work and two estates to oversee. Those men of Lord Caldfort’s said that he’s in a bad way. If he had wind of his son’s wickedness, it’s not surprising, but Harry may be Viscount Caldfort sooner than you thought.”

  Or perhaps not, Laura thought. Surely Henry could be persuaded to claim the viscountcy.

  “Together, Stephen and I will manage.”

  “Even if you end up as Prime Minister, Stephen?” her father demanded. “That’s what some predict for you.”

  Stephen shook his head. “I have no desire for it, and it will be a long time before an uncompromising reformer leads the country. If ever.”

  Laura couldn’t help but be pleased about that. She would enjoy being Stephen’s partner in politics, but that degree of responsibility would be a burden.

  Her father stood. “Well, I think I’ll go back down to Kerslake Manor. I don’t care for this place, and Sir Nathaniel Kerslake mentioned some bean crops that sounded interesting. You’d best come with me, Laury.”

  Laura was feeling as if she was back in the schoolroom, but she managed to say, “I will come down in a little while, Father. I promised Harry. But there are a few things I need to take care of here first.”

  She saw him begin to ask what and stop himself. Perhaps he remembered that she was a grown woman, or he may have decided that she should be allowed to do a little courting. He nodded and took his leave.

  Laura blew out a breath. “Now to convince Henry to assert his claim to the viscountcy.”

  “I’m not sure how we can if he’s resolute.”

  She frowned at him in dismay. “But it would be wrong for Harry to become viscount now—quite apart from the danger it puts him in.”

  Stephen shrugged. “We might as well continue our discussion in here. I’ll go and
get the others. Remember, though, that the Rogues can defang Jack Gardeyne and I suspect that events in Draycombe may have shocked him to his senses.”

  Laura paced the room as she waited, realizing that this room was peculiar after all. It had only one small window and thus needed lamps in the morning. She didn’t envy David Kerslake the possession of this place.

  But surely there was a way to persuade Henry Gardeyne to claim the viscountcy. True, his . . . intimate relations made things difficult, and as Stephen had said, what they did was a capital crime. She thought she remembered a case involving some men of the upper class, and though they hadn’t been hanged they’d been put in the stocks. The mob had been so outraged that they’d killed one by throwing stones before the guards had stepped in and put a stop to it.

  But if he was discreet . . .

  The others came in, Henry carrying Des. He put the younger man on the sofa. “Let us be clear from the start,” he said, as Laura, Stephen, and Nicholas took seats. “I will not take up the role of Lord Caldfort.”

  “Please be seated, Gardeyne,” Stephen said. “You’re not a prisoner in the dock.”

  Henry sat but did not relax. Des smiled slightly and took his hand, obviously attempting to soothe him.

  “Perhaps you could tell us your story,” Stephen said, “and help us to understand. Then we can help you.”

  “Why would you wish to?”

  “We’re a philanthropic society,” Nicholas said, “particularly dedicated to the succor of rescued slaves and reluctant viscounts.”

  Henry studied him. “Why?”

  “For right and justice, but also I’d like to learn more about Arab ways.”

  Stephen groaned. “Don’t pander to him. He’ll pick your mind dry.”

  For some reason, this seemed to release all the tension. Henry relaxed at last. “Our story is one of medium length.”

  “We have time.”

  Henry shrugged. “I assume you know that I traveled to the Mediterranean, despite the difficulties in sea travel at the time. I hoped to visit Greece and Egypt. A strange Gardeyne, I, being seriously interested in antiquities.

  “I took passage on the Mary Woodside, whose master hoped to make the Ottoman lands and bring back a rich cargo. Des was the cabin boy.” He touched Des’s arm, his face softening with obvious love. “His real name is Isaiah Wissett, by the way.”

  Des winced, laughing. “Did you have to tell them?”

  Henry smiled, then sobered. “I assure you I respected his youth. He was only thirteen and astonishingly innocent, even though he’d run away from home. He could read and write, but had never read anything except the Bible and knew nothing of the world. It quite terrified me, so I read other books with him and taught him geography, history, and the like. I’d never imagined that I’d like to be a teacher.

  “We made it past the British and French blockades, but were felled by a storm. The ship went down, but a few of us got away in boats. Perhaps the other boats made land, but after days adrift, ours fell into the hands of the corsairs. I need not bore you with the details. It was the usual thing, which has been described in detail in the papers here.”

  “We wondered,” Stephen said, “why you did not announce yourself a gentleman and arrange ransom.”

  “We had been some time in the boats, and I’d taken to it in my nightshirt, so there was nothing gentlemanly about me by then. I could have proved my status in time, but for the moment I stayed close to Des. Being so young, he was very frightened, and I assumed that when I arranged my freedom, I would be able to arrange his, too. Unfortunately, I didn’t understand the value of his type—young, fair skinned, and beautiful. He was instantly purchased for a harem.”

  Even though Laura wasn’t naive, it took a moment for her to understand quite what that meant. A male harem.

  “Des did not go calmly to his fate. He was only thirteen, and he screamed and cried for me. His owner whipped him, but when he wouldn’t calm, Abdul-Alim bought me to pacify his new ‘pearl.’ Like a pet. Like a dog. I was kept in the yard like a dog, but provided with shelter from the sun and given adequate food. Des was allowed to spend time with me as long as we did not touch and were in full sight of the guards.”

  “Couldn’t you have revealed your identity and been ransomed,” Stephen asked, “and then bought the boy’s freedom?”

  “That would have been delightful, but I soon learned that Abdul-Alim let no one else have his pearls. They were never sold. When they ceased to please, whether from bad behavior or from growing coarse with age, they were killed. So,” he said with a shrug, “I stayed.”

  Laura stared at him. “What of your father? Your apparent death broke his heart.”

  Henry looked down for a moment, but then met her eyes. “I would have broken it sooner or later, Cousin. I would not have been able to hide my tastes forever, and he would never have been able to accept it. He was a Gardeyne, after all.”

  “So are you.”

  “Any family can produce an oddity. It’s why I went abroad, to spare him and to try to find my place in the world. Ironically, I did, after a fashion.”

  “Go on with your story,” Stephen said.

  “I was allowed to continue Des’s education, and Abdul-Alim soon came to see that I wasn’t a common sailor, though he assumed me a lowly scholar or clerk. It amused him to have me to turn his English Pearl, as he called Des, into a gentleman. He even purchased European clothes for him to wear on occasion, though not quite of the sober style favored these days. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that we had more time, and even English books to read together.

  “But,” he said grimly, “Des was being educated in other ways. Trained for the harem. He turned to me for advice. What could I do? I advised him to cooperate, to do everything that Abdul-Alim required.”

  “It wasn’t so bad,” Des interrupted, clearly to reassure. “I liked the music and dancing, and I miss swimming in the warm pool, and the massage afterward. I made friends with other boys, and,” he added with a genuine smile, “there was never any work. I could lie in bed as long as I wanted, and had servants to do everything I asked.”

  Laura supposed that for a child of a stern Methodist family who’d preferred the hard life of a cabin boy, this could have seemed like heaven.

  But then he shrugged. “Or almost everything. We were never allowed to leave the palace. There were grilled windows, though, so we could look out.”

  “As you see,” Henry said dryly, “Abdul-Alim was never needlessly cruel, and in our first years there, Des was one of his favorites. He doted on him, and thus became kind to me.”

  “Did he not suspect your feelings?” Nicholas asked.

  “Probably, but if so, it would have amused him. He was quite sure that nothing could happen. Which was true. We were never alone and we both knew the punishment would be extreme and not at all quick. We witnessed it a time or two.”

  Des’s lashes were lowered, but his lips formed a grim line. For the first time Laura wondered with horror what had caused his infirmity.

  “I was gradually given better quarters,” Henry went on. “By a year after our arrival, I was living in a small house close to Abdul-Alim’s compound with a slave of my own. Ironically, a Greek girl with no knowledge of classics at all. I was allowed to move around Algiers freely and meet Des almost as often as I wished, but only in the palace courtyard, in sight of the guards. So there we were. I decided that I might as well use my spare time to study the place to which fate had taken me. It proved satisfying.”

  “But for nine years?” Laura asked.

  Henry shrugged. “I learned a suitable acceptance of fate. Apart from one thing, it was not an unpleasant life. The culture, at its best, is gracious.”

  “And then the British came to set you free,” Stephen said.

  Henry’s face returned to Farouk’s coldness. “And then the bloody British came to set us free. No, I shouldn’t be bitter, but I was furious at the time. I knew that Abdul-Alim
would kill his pearls rather than let them go. Thus I would have to try to get Des out of there. Which would doubtless lead to a slow and excruciating death for both of us.”

  His hand had become a fist, and Des gently covered it.

  “Des and I talked of escape, though he was as doubtful as I was. I delayed, hoping the British would fail.” He spread his hands as if they’d accused him. “We had no hope of success in escaping, and had long since decided that the life we had was better than nothing. But then the bombardment began, and I knew the British would prevail. The slaves would be freed, as they had been in other corsair states.

  “Abdul-Alim began to smuggle his most precious pearls out of the city. Des was not among the first, for he was older so not quite as valued, but we knew it would be soon. He was still beautiful and skilled at pleasing. I was desperate for any plan that had the slightest chance of success, but I hadn’t found one when they came for him.”

  He looked at Des, who was looking away now, his expression not so much grim as lifeless, as if he did not wish to remember this part.

  “He was the brave, resourceful one. He hid. It was the height of the battle and he hoped that Abdul-Alim and his men would give up the search and flee. But he was caught. He was beaten. Tortured. Not with the usual refinements, for lack of time, but they would have killed him if a shell hadn’t broken down a wall to the harem. All was panic, wounded, and dead, so I took my chance and ran in to find him. What they’d done . . .” He closed his eyes for a moment. “But he was alive. He was in such pain as I carried him away, but he never made a sound.”

  Tears escaped the young man’s eyes and he suddenly turned his face into Henry’s shoulder. Henry put his arm around him. Laura felt that she should be embarrassed but she wasn’t. This was a remarkable love story.

  “If he was so badly injured,” Stephen asked, but even his voice sounded gruff, “why not take him to the navy?”

  Henry’s look was pitying. “The battle still raged, but besides, I could get better medical help in Algiers if my friends would take the risk. They did. They hid us and tended to Des until he could travel, then helped us to a boat that would take us to Spain. I’d carried Des away still wearing a collar and bracelets of jewels, and they helped us find a place where we could rest for a while. We had our freedom at last, and it seemed Des would live and be whole in time, but how were we to survive? The jewels wouldn’t support us forever.