And I Am Happy

R. Cooper

Published by R. Cooper at Smashwords

Copyright 2013

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Cover art by E. Diaz

To the original Charlie and Will and all the
people who love them as I do.

Will had not meant to linger by the door but
at a quarter past twelve when he heard it open he was there to
watch as Charlie— his gentleman, Mr. Charles Howard, esq.— pushed
open the door to let himself in. For a moment Charlie was a tall,
strong figure silhouetted by yellow, flickering street lights and
then he removed his hat to lean against the wall and sigh, which
told Will all he needed to know about his master’s current state.
He hurried closer without a thought and startled his master who
must not have seen him in the dark.

“It’s just me, sir,” Will whispered as he
slid one of his master’s arms around his shoulder in order to take
his weight. He pulled the hat from his gentleman’s hand and set it
aside. There was no sign of his master’s cane, so when Charlie
attempted to stand on his own Will stubbornly stayed where he was.
There was a cloying, heady scent on his master’s clothes that was
neither the cologne Will sprayed onto Charlie’s handkerchief nor
the crisp smell of the starch Will had personally used in his
master’s collar.

It was Lily-of-the-Valley perfume. Will
wanted to hide his face when he recognized it and was grateful for
the darkened entryway, although even in broad daylight he did not
think his gentleman would have noticed his reaction. There was much
his gentleman did not notice.

Will eased one hand over Charlie’s shirtfront
and pressed until he could feel warmth and the beat of a heart.
“Let’s get you to bed.”

His gentleman attempted one more time to
stand on his own but gave in when Will would not release him. His
right foot hit the floor too heavily. Despite the rugs laid down
over the marble a metallic echo carried up to Will’s ears. He could
feel his master’s skin grow warmer. Charlie often got embarrassed
about things that weren’t under his control, as though his
occasional clumsiness were not understandable.

“I thought I instructed you not to wait up,”
his master remarked as they turned toward his bedroom, which was on
the ground floor and not upstairs. There were no stairs in the flat
that his master was permitted to use beyond the ones to get in the
front door and even those Will would do without if he had his way.
But some things his gentleman insisted on and one of them was
appearances. His flat would have more than one storey, and there
would be stairs, and he would walk up those stairs, at least for
the public to see.

Inside the flat, up further stairs where his
master could not go, there was a guest room and a library. When
asked to, Will fetched his gentleman’s books from that room,
anything to keep his gentleman from attempting the feat himself.
Charlie had agreed to install a lift after much prompting from his
sisters but hadn’t yet committed to a timeframe to have the workmen
in the house. His gentleman did not care much for strangers around
him. It had taken time for him to grow comfortable in Will’s
presence and Will was but a servant.

“I wasn’t tired, sir,” Will puffed against
Charlie’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of lilies again. Will did
not care for lilies or the women who wore their scent. He did not
care for women at all for that matter, not in the way most men
did.

“You just don’t like to listen.” His master’s
tone was teasing.

Will answered in kind, or seemed to. “If
anyone could make me listen, sir, it would be you.”

He felt the hitch in his master’s breathing
more than he heard it but didn’t dare to lift his head to try to
glimpse his expression. Once inside the bedroom, he eased Charlie
down onto the edge of his bed and removed the perfume-drenched
coat. He carried it into the closet and buried it under a pile of
clothing waiting to be laundered.

Breathing freely again, Will went back to his
master’s side, pausing only to turn up the gaslights. For a moment
as he turned back he lost his breath at the sight of Charlie in the
amber light. His gentleman was something from a painting with his
shirt starkly pale, his skin warm and his hair dark. There were
shadows along his square jaw and handsome face under his eyes. He
looked grave and weary but his eyes were steady on Will.

Will was conscious of his dishabille. He’d
half undressed, fully intending to retire some time ago before he’d
finally accepted that he couldn’t sleep without knowing how his
master’s evening had gone.

From the scent of those lilies it had gone
very well.

Will scowled and hid his face, aware once
again of what a dismal valet he was. At least his hands did not
shake when he rested them against Charlie’s throat. He felt
Charlie’s hot skin against his fingertips for a bare second before
he tugged at the knot of Charlie’s cravat and slid it free.

The silk rushed through his fingers. Will
watched his gentleman swallow and then set to work on his collar
and the buttons of his waistcoat. “Did you have a good night, sir?”
It was speak or lean forward to replace his hands with his mouth
and that was the one thing Will could not do. He focused on pushing
the sedate, simple waistcoat over his gentleman’s broad shoulders,
taking care not to jar the right arm.

He’d set the waistcoat down and returned to
finish undoing his master’s shirt buttons when Charlie sighed his
answer. “Well enough. It was everything it should have been.” Will
took some comfort from the lack of enthusiasm in his gentleman’s
voice. “Will,” Charlie began, then stopped. Charlie, as Will called
him in the safety his own mind, had a deep but soft voice, one
hardly ever raised in anger. It reminded Will of brandy or port,
something fine and dark and intoxicating but just beyond his reach.
“Will,” Charlie said again, causing Will to shiver, “You do not
have to undress me if you are tired. I gave you the night.”

Charlie tilted his chin up so Will could
remove his shirt and then it was his turn to shiver as if the room
were cold when it wasn’t. Will slid his master’s shirt and braces
from him and had to bite back a delighted moan to see his master’s
skin untouched. There was not a trace of an eager mouth or a rough
hand on him, none of the kind of marks Will would have liked to
leave on his master’s skin if ever given the chance. Will skated a
hand over his gentleman’s chest, keeping his expression innocent
despite the drag of his fingertips in the patch of dark hair. Then
he curled his fingers over the shiny, warm metal at Charlie’s right
shoulder.

“I wouldn’t be much of a valet if I left you
to do this yourself. What would people say?” Will teased, his tone
as light as he could make it with the pads of his fingers caressing
scar tissue, trailing up toward the leather straps holding the
prosthesis in place.

“I do not give a damn what they would say.
You are my valet and—” His master gave a small grunt, as if
pained, and Will gentled his movements even more. His master
continued slowly. “You are my valet and I am happy.” The pain in
his voice eased but Will could see how Charlie glanced away and
breathed hard.

Will didn’t reach for the buckles to the arm
piece until he’d eased the heavy, so very heavy, metal arm through
the sleeve. He winced at each catch on the fabric, which would tear
despite his efforts. The arm was not meant to be worn under clothes
yet once again his gentleman had insisted.

For
her
he had insisted, not wishing
to make her uncomfortable. For Miss Lily-of-the-Valley, although
everyone in London already knew of the war hero and outspoken MP
with metal arm and leg, the man with the will and body of steel, as
the Fleet Street rags called him.

“Will.” His gentleman tried to protest once
more. He would have been able to do this himself if left alone but
it would have not have been easy. The arm had motion but buttons
required concentration and the hour was late.

“Hush.” Will was bold though his mouth was
dry. He stripped the shirt from his gentleman with a practiced
gesture. Charlie only smiled faintly at his insolence. He should
not do that. It only made Will long to be bolder. His hands went
back to the ridge of scar tissue at Charlie’s shoulder. This close,
Will could smell cologne and the leather of the straps. His fingers
curled around them for a moment and his gaze rose. The muscles
under his touch were tense. He studied the shadows under Charlie’s
eyes, the tight, set line of his jaw, then ducked his head back
down.

He should not care if Charlie found happiness
with someone, even in the arms of a woman who wore too much
perfume. He should want his master to be happy. Instead his other
hand was grasping at Charlie’s side, splaying out in an attempt to
be gentle before he undid the straps and unwound the mechanisms
that allowed the arm to come free. Instead of being happy his
gentleman might have found love Will was spitefully pleased that he
was the only one allowed to touch him like this.

Charlie did not fight him again on the care
he was taking, though more than once after a night off Will had
come home to find his gentleman attempting to sleep with the arm
attached, grooves from the weight in his shoulder, his body stiff
and uncomfortable above the covers. His master went still when the
metal prosthetic was gone and kept his head turned until Will
returned with the top half of his Turkish pajamas. They were silk
as well, Will’s doing, for Charles Howard, esq. had no taste for
fabric or style. The colour was black, sombre and serious, and it
suited him so well that Will almost did not mind covering up his
nakedness with it.

He looked down as he slipped what remained of
his master’s arm through one sleeve and caught his master’s eyes on
his chest. Will had not bothered with his own buttons, not in the
middle of the night. He held his breath but then his master’s eyes
moved on.

“I can manage the rest, Will.” Charlie
dismissed Will in a tight voice.

Will allowed himself a frown as he dropped
his hands to his sides. “There’s nothing else, sir?” He had to
clear his throat to ask it. Charlie glanced at him, his gaze sharp
for a moment in the yellow light. Then he thinned his lips.

“No. Good night.” The frown was sad and
familiar but his master’s voice was soft again. A whispering echo
of his words followed Will through the closet to his small bedroom,
as did the sounds of his gentleman shifting on the bed to slide his
other prosthesis free from his leg. He swore, once, but quietly, as
if not wanting Will to hear, as though Will didn’t leave the door
open between them in case he was needed in the night.

Sometimes there were nightmares, and he was.
Sometimes there were no nightmares but Will wanted the sound of his
master’s breathing to help him fall asleep. Sometimes there were
other sounds, intimate ones Will was too experienced to blush to
hear, yet which set his skin afire just the same. Tonight was one
of those nights and it was a long time after, with his own spunk
cooling on his stomach and his bottom lip stinging from his teeth
and the effort to keep silent, before he could recover enough to
sleep.

He laid in the dark, listening to his
master’s breathing grow slow and wondering what his master thought
of when he pleasured himself, if it was anything like what Will
thought of, if he also felt it would never be enough.

It was a stupid, lonely thought, but one Will
had dared to have before. It kept him awake until early morning,
when the sounds from the other room finally gentled into real
sleep.

~~~

Will rose early despite his restless night.
There was always much to do and it always seemed to take him longer
than it would have taken others. He didn’t have a natural talent
for making a gentleman’s home. In truth, his skills at ironing and
button sewing were weak and he had no gifts in the kitchen. Even
toast was beyond him. He did keep things neat, that was certainly
true. He could answer the telephone, monitor appointments, and fix
drinks. He could iron newspapers and shirts, trim hair, give a man
a shave, but any valet could do those things, and usually
better.

Until he had started work in this house, Will
had not been the kind of valet expected to excel at such ordinary
tasks. Until this house, he had been more of a rich man’s
convenience than a valet.