by Jean Wilde
Horatio blushed slightly. “I did the Grand Tour, so I’m quite familiar with sixty-nine. Although, I confess I haven’t actually tried it.”
“We’ll have to remedy that, then.”
Piers lay down on the bed and gestured for Horatio to join him. Slightly unsure, Horatio sank down onto the covers next to him, his heart beating wildly in anticipation.
“Climb on top of me, facing the foot of the bed.”
Horatio quickly complied, and Piers pulled him backward until he could feel the other’s man breath caress his sac and shaft. He shuddered and then licked his lips as he looked down at Piers’s jutting cock.
Piers grabbed Horatio’s cock softly caressing it and pushed his own sex upward. “Do try not to finish too quickly; I’d like to savor this.”
Horatio let out a low moan as Piers took him deep. His mouth was like Heaven, and his wickedly sensual tongue sent tingles of delight down his spine. As he felt the beginnings of an orgasm, Horatio forced himself to breathe and focus on the task at hand. He’d always enjoyed bringing his lovers pleasure, and the large cock mere inches from his lips looked positively delicious. Licking his lips, he bent down and sucked the engorged head into his mouth, swirling his tongue before taking more of it in. Piers groaned and released his member. Before he could mourn the loss of his lips, the courtesan sucked first one testicle into his mouth and then the other. Another wave of bliss swept through him, and he began pumping Piers’s shaft as he felt his control beginning to slip.
Piers lifted his hips, feeding his cock deeper into his mouth. As his sex hit the back of Piers’s throat, the sinfully wicked man inserted a finger inside his arse, and with a muffled cry Horatio shuddered and climaxed. His cock was still pulsating when Piers forced his head back down and began to fuck his mouth in earnest. Then Horatio felt a gush of warm seed fill his mouth at the same time as he heard the courtesan’s sigh of contentment.
Thirty minutes later, dressed with his hair slightly disheveled, Horatio opened the bedroom door and slipped into the hallway with Piers in tow. They continued the tour of the ruined wing before heading outside to the gardens. He loved his wife’s domain and couldn’t wait to see her prize roses in bloom. Smiling to himself, he felt satiated and…happy.
“Your wife has excellent taste,” Piers said as they strolled by the symmetrical topiary and rose bushes.
“In men or gardening?”
His companion chuckled. “Both, I think. Will she mind us engaging in, uh, activities without her?”
He shook his head. “We discussed it this morning. Caroline said that as long as we shared a bed frequently enough for her to get with child, we were free to pursue our own pleasures.”
Piers grinned. “I think I’m half in love with your wife. Truly, she’s a most extraordinary creature.”
Horatio laughed, not feeling the least bit jealous at the other man’s statement. It was strange to recall how resentful he’d felt when Piers had flirted and entertained Caroline. “Yes, she is. I never thought I’d marry, though I knew it was my duty to beget an heir and secure the line of succession. I just couldn’t bring myself to be so cruel—I’d be subjecting my blameless bride to a lonely, unsatisfying marriage bed.”
Piers raised his brows. “I would hardly call your wife lonely. It seems to me that you’ve achieved what most couples aspire to in a marriage: a love match. She’s your confidante and best friend, and you are hers. Do you realize how rare that is in marriages of the upper class?”
“You sound almost envious, though you admitted you’d make a terrible spouse. We’ve had our challenges…although, I like to think we’ve made things work well between us. I doubt many people truly want a love match, or else they’d need to embrace the unfashionable state of monogamy.”
“I suppose the London arts would suffer quite a blow if all their rich patrons suddenly stopped supporting all those opera singers, dancers, and actresses. Love marriages would put a severe strain on the economy.”
“Oh, there are still plenty of unattached men who can keep the economy afloat. I, for one, don’t have a problem with monogamy.”
Piers’s eyes twinkled. “Don’t you mean celibacy?”
Horatio let out a bark of laughter. “Yes, I suppose in my case, I do. But mine is not a regular marriage, after all.”
“Well, I doubt any relationship I’d embark on would be any more conventional. Besides, I’ve never had any real romantic entanglements, and perhaps I’m too old and cynical to start now.”
“I would hardly say you’re in your dotage.”
“No, I suppose thirty-four is not ancient,” the male courtesan agreed. “I’m just too set in my ways.”
Horatio shrugged. “You already know what I have to say about change: embrace it.”
They left the gardens and were close to the stables in the East Wing when he caught Piers staring longingly in that direction. “Would you like to ride into town? Newcastle upon Tyne is a bit of a way, but it’s a busy town with much to see. If we leave now, we can be back in time for tea.”
Piers grinned boyishly. “That sounds capital. Perhaps you can show me the shipyards Caroline was talking about so much?”
Horatio agreed wholeheartedly, more than eager to discuss his passion with an interested audience.
Chapter 10
Newcastle upon Tyne was a crowded, bustling town, which—interestingly enough—reminded Piers very much of London. It was dirty and unsanitary but also very prosperous with shops and businesses crammed into every nook and cranny he spied. The town lay on both sides of the deep River Tyne with a grand stone bridge connecting the two parts.
“The city manufactures salt, soap, and glass, so there’s a constant influx of workers and immigrants seeking employment,” Horatio explained as the pair of them rode side-by-side through a crowded street. “There’s endless potential for businesses in Newcastle.”
“And yet you raise livestock,” Piers observed. He looked toward a red haze in the distance, which he guessed must be some kind of coal furnace.
Horatio laughed. “Not by choice, I can assure you. I do have some smaller investments in coal mining, but my true interest is shipbuilding.”
“I’ve seen your sketches. You wish to design ships as well as build them, I take it?”
The Baron looked at him in surprise. “How did you...”
“In your bedchamber—your desk is completely covered in drawings.”
“Yes, well, I’ve always liked boats. I also think I can introduce some improvements that will make the shipbuilding process faster and more efficient.”
The river was now in sight, and Piers watched from his vantage point atop Titus as workers hustled back and forth, carrying wooden beams and other building materials. He didn’t often go near the docks in London. For one thing, he got terribly seasick on boats, and for another, it was safer to dally with a sailor in a tavern away from the harbor. The British Navy did not look kindly upon his kind and had a tendency to execute sodomites, regardless of their social rank.
Piers brought his attention back to his companion as he realized the Baron had been pointing at the half-built ship while explaining something about steel forging. He nodded politely, his interest soon drifting away to the laborers around him. It was people who fascinated him, not objects. He watched the men, women, and children as they navigated their way slowly in the crowded narrow streets. They spoke quickly in a broad accent, which was unique to the Tyneside area.
He was about to direct a question to Horatio when something—or rather someone—caught his eye. A man stood in the doorway of what looked to be a shipping office staring intently at the pair of them. He was a young man, perhaps in his mid-twenties, tall with shoulder-length black hair and eyes the color of coal. His complexion was rather dark, reminding Piers of a Spaniard or an Italian. He was dressed in neat office attire, relaying his middle-class status. The stranger would’ve been remarkably attractive—if he hadn’t been scowling so thunderously in their di
rection.
Piers nudged his companion. “Hastings, do you know that man who’s glaring our way?”
The Baron followed his gaze then stiffened. He cursed under his breath and whirled his horse around, heading away from the river. Surprised, Piers followed without saying anything until they were some distance away.
“So, I take it you do know the young man?” he finally ventured.
Horatio stared angrily ahead. “That bastard is Jonathan Miller, former footman at Delaval Hall.”
He grabbed Horatio’s arm bringing him to a halt. “Wait, that was Jonathan? Your former,” Piers lowered his voice, “lover? The man who tried to blackmail you for money?”
“The one and the bloody same. After that debacle at the ball, I was so furious at what he’d tried to do to me, I was determined to exact some form of revenge on him. But, I never got the chance to. My father must have seen Jonathan in the study that night, because he decided to take care of the matter himself. He made a deal with the blackguard: money and a position in town in exchange for his silence. Jonathan agreed, of course. So, not only did he get away with his crime, he was rewarded with money and decent employment.”
Piers winced sympathetically. “Yes, I can see why you’d be so bitter about it. Doesn’t seem fair at all, but then life seldom is.” He paused for a minute then continued, “He does seem rather young. How old was he when you two were involved?”
Horatio blushed. “He was young—eighteen, I believe. But I never approached him, it was he who seduced me.”
“I’m not accusing you of doing anything wrong. Besides, it isn’t that young. I was the same age when I became a courtesan.”
“Yes, but you didn’t resort to threats and blackmail to make money.”
“God, no! Discretion is paramount in my line of work. If for a moment any of my clients believed I might turn on them, I would’ve been kicked to the curb…or worse. My patrons are very rich, influential men. In all fairness, though, I am a professional—this Jonathan character was not. You get what you pay for,” he added with a wink to the Baron.
Hastings chuckled, and they continued their ride back to the mansion in easy conversation. Piers’s insatiable curiosity, however, had been piqued. He wanted to have a few words with this Jonathan Miller, because the way that young man had been looking at them had him convinced that sleeping dogs were not content to lie.
* * * *
Dinner that evening proved to be a much more relaxed affair than the night before. The food was good and the conversation lively. When they all retired to the drawing room together, Horatio and Piers sat down to play a game of chess while the Baroness opened a book. He tried to concentrate on the game, but Piers’s mind kept straying to the dismissed footman.
After a few minutes, he finally asked, “I’m curious—who was Miller’s accomplice in the household? The one who led the late Baron and his party to the study that fateful evening.”
His hosts looked at him in surprise before sharing a meaningful glance. The way they quietly communicated with each other intrigued him. Truly, he didn’t think he’d ever met a couple so attuned to one another.
“He wasn’t a regular member of our staff,” Horatio finally replied. “The housekeeper had hired some extra maids and footmen from the neighborhood to assist with the ball. My father had no idea who the man was, just that he wasn’t an employee of ours.”
Piers nodded slowly. “Did you suspect anyone else was working with him?”
It was the Baroness who responded, “The servants know far more about our private lives than we’d like, but they’re loyal. I can vouch for every senior staff member in this household and most of the junior ones as well. They would never turn on the Hastings. The late Baron was fair and generous with his dependents, and Horatio is the same.”
“There was Mr. Allen, my steward,” Horatio interjected. “I dismissed him a few weeks ago for skewing the numbers on the books to supplement his salary. There’s nothing, however, that would indicate he had been in league with Jonathan. Why all the sudden questions?”
Piers couldn’t really say; he just hadn’t liked the way the young man had looked at them when they’d been in town. “He seems to be harboring a great deal of animosity toward you, which doesn’t really make sense. He got what he wanted: funds and a new position… why the hostility, then?”
Horatio shrugged. “Greed! He probably wanted more money than my father paid him.”
Although he wasn’t convinced, Piers let the matter drop, resuming their game of chess. He knew it wasn’t his affair. He had no right to meddle, but he was growing fond of his current paramours and didn’t wish any harm to befall them. He’d studied people long enough to know he wasn’t overreacting, and young men who carried that kind of anger inside them were dangerous. Piers would know…he had been one, after all!
Chapter 11
The next three weeks passed happily for Caroline. She mentally patted herself on the back when she saw how well her investment was paying off. It was probably rather cold of her to think of Piers Benson as an investment, but she’d paid a hefty sum for his exclusive services. Indeed, she’d ended up using the entirety of the small sum her father had left her upon his death. She had no regrets, though.
While some people claimed that money could not buy happiness, Caroline begged to differ. Horatio was cheerful and relaxed, and he was able to go about his estate business enthusiastically—even without the assistance of a new steward. She, on the other hand, could not get enough of their bed sport. Unwittingly, she found herself stealing glances at the clock throughout the day, counting down the hours until it was time to slip into Horatio’s bedchamber. Piers pleasured her thoroughly with his hands and tongue and pushed her and her husband to try all kinds of sexual positions. She hadn’t realized just how woefully ignorant she’d been until she saw how skillfully Piers brought all three of them to climax every night. The idea that she might be with child already excited her as well.
Sighing contentedly, she had just settled at the desk in her private parlor to respond to letters when Horatio walked in. He was alone, and while he was impeccably dressed, he looked slightly disheveled. Caroline smiled inwardly; he’d probably gotten sidetracked while discussing the renovations with their architect. He and Piers had gone into town a week ago and hired a Clerk of Works as well as several stonemasons and carpenters to begin actual repairs to the West Wing. While Horatio hadn’t been pleased to pay for the project, he’d understood the importance of keeping up appearances. The pair of them would consult with the Clerk, Mr. Hill, every morning and often ended up disappearing together for an hour or two.
Smirking, she said, “So where did you show our architect to this morning, darling? The mausoleum, the stables, or the hunting lodge, perhaps?”
Horatio grinned and gave her a kiss on the cheek before leaning against her desk, his long legs stretched before him. “As it so happens, he wished to show me his extensive collection of neckcloths.”
“I suppose he showed you this marvelous assortment in his bedchamber?”
“Where else?” he asked mischievously.
She took his hand and held it up to her cheek. “Are you pleased, my love? Is Piers…satisfying you?”
Her husband let out a bark of laughter. “You are the most incredible woman I know, Caroline. These past few weeks have been somewhat surreal. You know, I’ve been thinking…” he began then hesitated.
“Yes?” she prompted.
He caressed her cheek, a fond expression on his face. “I was thinking that once you’re certain that you’re pregnant, there’s no reason for you not to enjoy yourself as well. I don’t mind if you and Piers—”
Startled, Caroline looked up at him sharply. “Hori, I don’t think—I brought him here for you.”
“I know, and I love you even more for it, my dear wife. I do my best, but I lack a certain enthusiasm that comes so easily to Piers. I just wanted you to know that I’m all right sharing you with him.”
Caroline smiled slowly. “We seem to be doing a lot of sharing since a certain Londoner entered our lives.”
He grinned then abruptly sobered. “Unfortunately, that’s not what I came to talk to you about today. I’m afraid I have news that you won’t find pleasing…I received a letter from Mama this morning.”
“Oh?” Caroline asked with some dread.
She’d never gotten along with her mother-in-law. The Dowager Baroness had never approved of her, having taken an instant dislike to her from the start. Nine years back, when Caroline had first visited her Aunt Rosalind in Northumberland, her aunt had insisted that she join them in calling on the esteemed Baroness Hastings. They’d gone for tea one afternoon, and Lady Eugenia Hastings had done nothing to hide her disapproval of the shabby, plain-looking niece. She’d pursed her lips and asked if all young women in Oxfordshire were so opinionated and outspoken.
Caroline had shrugged and said, “I was raised in a household where my father treated me as a person of equal intelligence. Life must be very limiting for a woman whose only function is to meekly agree with everything being said around her. Can a person even take credit for a thought if they’re merely parroting what they’ve been told?”
That had not been the most diplomatic answer. It had earned her a disdainful look from the Baroness and a scolding from her aunt later in private. When Caroline had returned to Newcastle after her father’s death, her aunt had hinted that she ought to apply for the post of paid companion for Lady Hastings. Caroline had refused to even consider it—their dislike had been mutual, and she’d avoided calling on the Baroness as much as she could.
Unfortunately, they’d been destined to not only tolerate each other’s company but to live under the same roof for six years. It had been a trial for the both of them. The matriarch had refused to forgive Caroline for being the poor relation who’d had the audacity to entrap her only son into marriage. And while she’d been accustomed to bullying everyone in the household, she’d soon learned that her unassuming daughter-in-law was a force to be reckoned with. Caroline’s strong will and open defiance of the shallow, callous lady had bred only anger and resentment. While the Baron’s death had been a blow to the family, in a way it had also set them free. Caroline had done nothing to hide the relief she’d felt when Lady Hastings had announced her intention of visiting her sister in Scotland for an undisclosed period of time after her husband’s death.
