Indulgence 2: One Glimpse (43 page)

“Son of a bitch!” It was John, cursing and growling as he struck Evers down with a punch to the jaw. He descended on him.

“John, stop!” Sam cried, but Richard and Henry were already pulling John back. He struggled against them and fell back on the carpet, but Sam rolled away from the desk and dropped to his knees behind him. He wrapped his arms around him from behind.

“Stop, stop.” Sam pressed his lips to John’s ear and neck. “Stop.”

John twisted around and cupped the back of Sam’s head. “Are you hurt? I heard you cry out.”

“No, I’m all right.” Sam hugged John tighter, his rushing blood making him shaky.

“He was going to, though.” John turned his hard gaze back on Evers. He lay on his back, crab-like, his arms propping him up as he stared in shock at all of them, though his attention froze on Sam and John embracing on the floor as Sam pressed calming kisses against John’s ear.

“Stop gawking, Ev. You’re in trouble.” Richard sneered.

Evers blinked as if waking from a dream. “A-Avery? Brenleigh? The fuck are you doing here?”

It was Henry who stepped forward. “We’re here for Sam, and you’re going to leave him alone.”

Evers froze. When he turned his attention to Sam again, Sam glared at him through the veil of John’s hair. He still held John, pressing his cheek against his neck. He did not care. Let Evers see. Twisting around, Evers looked in the direction of the open door on the far wall that led to the little room where Sam kept his rare books and accounts, and where John and the others had been hiding. He then turned back to the four of them, the sick panic in his eyes showing that he understood. He stared at Richard, then Henry, and back.

“Oh my God.” Evers gasped.

“Listen here, Ev.” Richard bent down as if speaking to a child. “You are going to forget about Shaw and Darn here, and you’re going to forget about Miss Shaw and her dowry. And if you’re smart, you will make certain whatever scum you hired to follow them forgets too.”

Tears filled Evers eyes, but he snapped angrily through his teeth, “I can’t.”

“Can’t?” Sam growled. “You will.”

Henry raised a staying hand. “We aren’t giving you a choice.”

“No, no.” Evers shook his head. “You don’t understand. It’s too late. If I don’t—”

“You have no idea the hell that is going to fall on you if you don’t.” John fumed.

“What will you do?” Evers looked at each of them in turn. His skin looked like cheap paper. “K-kill me?”

“No, we aren’t going to kill you.” Richard took a knee and sighed. “I was outvoted on that one.” Richard turned to Sam, his brow raised in question. When Sam nodded, knowing what came next, Richard turned back to Evers. “I will tell you what is going to happen, though. If Darnish or Shaw are hurt in any way, if there is so much as a whisper of rumor about either of them—or myself and Henry, for that matter—we are going to tell every like-minded man we know that
you
know about them. That
you
are planning to blackmail them, and I can tell you, Ev, there are more than a few of them who don’t share our scruples. They won’t talk to you or try to confirm. They will just deal with you.”

“Deal with me,” Evers croaked.

“Kill you,” John growled. He moved to rise, and Sam got up, still holding John’s arm. If John chose to go after Evers again, Sam doubted he could restrain him, but touching him was comforting. And he needed comfort for where the conversation was about to go.

“Yes,” Richard continued. “You would be very surprised to know which powerful men prefer particular company, and not all of them are gentlemen. I’m warning you.
We
are warning you. Do anything stupid and we will tell such men what I already said, and you will just disappear one day. They’ll find you in the river, or maybe not find you at all, and”—Richard threw up his hands, disgusted—”we likely won’t even know who did it.”

Bile burned the back of Sam’s throat, and he clutched John’s arm tighter. He hated this. He hated Evers, but the thought of the man getting stuck with a knife in a dark alley made his head swim.

“For God’s sake, don’t be a fool,” Sam pleaded. “Just walk away, and…” An idea struck him. “And I want you to leave. I don’t want to see you in London for at least a year. I don’t want my sister to even see you passing in the street.”

The others looked at Sam, for they had not discussed that in their plan. Still, no one objected. They turned their gazes back on Evers, a solid front in their agreement.

Evers struggled to his feet. He stumbled back and righted himself on the back a chair, his gaze never leaving them. His jaw moved, but no words came out. He seemed only able to stare at each of them with cloudy eyes. Whether it was shock or fear or both, Sam no longer cared.

“Well?” Henry pressed. “Are you going to drop it? Leave town?”

“Remember your options,” Richard added.

Evers nodded. His whole body shook as he skirted around the furniture near the hearth, the only path that allowed him to reach the door without passing any of them. Sam had to allay his own panic at seeing Evers go, as if the first thing he would do once he left the house was run to White’s and shout their secrets to the rafters. When he was finally at the door, he grabbed the knob and turned. His gaze bored into Sam’s, their once bright blue depths dull. Sam gripped John’s arm tighter, waiting, but Evers said nothing. He turned and fled.

“Oh, God.” Sam sighed and leaned against John, who pulled him into a tight embrace. Sam heard the door close, then the sound of feet. They pulled apart.

“Thank you,” Sam managed to say. “I don’t know what I would have done on my own.”

Richard nodded once. If Henry had a silent reaction, Sam did not see it, for he did not look at him. He could not. He
still
could not, and the truth of that shamed him to no end.

“I think we should go, then.” Richard laid a hand on John’s shoulder. “Keep your ears open the next few days. We should all make the rounds, keep our invitations even if we don’t feel like it.”

“Right. And I think we’ve given Sam’s servants enough to be curious about for a while.” John kissed the top of Sam’s head, and it warmed Sam to know John was not embarrassed by it.

“We’ll go, then, and talk to you later—”

“No, wait,” Henry cut in. “Sam, I want to have a word with you.”

“Darling, leave it,” Richard whispered, taking his hand.

“No.” Henry moved, stopping in front of Sam. “No. We need to talk. You have to listen. Just this once.”

Sam pulled away, and John let him go. He didn’t want to listen to Henry, but he also knew he owed him that much. He did not have to forgive him or believe him, only listen.

“Fine.” Sam still did not look at him as he turned and spotted the open door to the book room. “We can talk in there.”

Henry turned back to Richard, and they had a whispered exchange, their heads close. Sam met John’s gaze and was startled to see he looked worried. “I’ll be fine,” Sam whispered. “Just a quick word.”

John’s smile was forced, another thing that confused Sam. “You should. You knew him long before you knew me.”

Sam frowned, wondering what John could mean by that, but Henry was going to the little room, and Sam needed to follow him. He needed to be done with this, once and for all.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Henry

“I don’t think we have anything to say to each other,” Sam started the moment he closed the door. “I am thankful for your and Richard’s help, and if you ever need me or John for anything, I—”

“This is not about Richard or Darnish or bloody Evers. This is about you and me.” There was iron in Henry’s voice. He stood in the middle of the small room, the walls lined with shelves and the cluttered bits of Sam’s most treasured possessions. Strange that the person who had once been Sam’s greatest treasure now stood among them.

“Fine. Then say what you want to tell me and we’ll be done.”

“Will you not even look at me, Sam? Do you hate me so much?”

God, don’t do this, Henry.
“You left me.”

“And I am so sorry—”

“You’re sorry,” Sam spat. “For going with me in the first place? Letting me spill my damn soul to you before you threw it back at me?” He covered his face, praying the hurt and rage to go away, but it wouldn’t. It never had.

“Please. If I could do it over, I would.”

“What would you do differently?” Sam pushed away from the door and stopped at the shuttered window, only the narrows slits between the wood showing any light. “Choose not to follow me into that cellar? Choose not to pretend to be my friend,
more
than my friend, for months?”

“I never pretended.” Henry’s eyes went wide, glassy. “I cared about you, I never pretended—”

“You’re a liar. And the only thing worse was that you were a damned coward too. You couldn’t just tell me you didn’t want me, that I wasn’t good enough for you. Instead, you lied. You made me think you weren’t like me, you called me—” Sobs trapped his words. He couldn’t breathe, could hardly see past the salty sting of his eyes. “You called me an a-abomination, Hen. You said I wasn’t a man.”

Henry was crying, the tears cutting lines down his reddened face. But his jaw hung open, as if he could not believe what he had just heard. “Is…is that what you think? That I didn’t want you?”

Sam snarled as he turned away, slamming his hands against the window frame. “Don’t you dare lie to me again. If you didn’t want me, you should have left me alone and—”

“Oh, God! I was a coward, but not for the reason you think. I wasn’t afraid to tell you I didn’t want you, I was afraid to tell you I did.”

Sam faced him. “Why would you say that to me?”

“Because it’s true.”

“No. No, if you wanted me you wouldn’t have done that to me. How could you hurt me like that? Do you have any idea how much I loved you?” The words were free, and he couldn’t take them back, but he hated Henry all the more for knowing it now. He rushed toward the door, ready to flee this nightmare, when Henry caught him.

“Get off me!” Sam shouted.

“No, listen.”

“Don’t touch me!”

“I loved you too. No childish friendship or crush. I loved you.”

Sam went still. He was at the door, his back pressed to it by Henry’s hands on his shoulders. No. He had to be lying.

“I panicked,” Henry continued, voice straining. “You were there and you were touching me and I…I liked it so much and then you kissed me and I just panicked.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t want to be different. I wanted to be like the other boys. I wanted to marry and have children and be what my father wanted. God. I wanted to be normal.” He struggled to draw a breath. “And then you kissed me and I felt like that was it. I had to choose. Damn me, but I was still stupid enough to think I could decide what I wanted. So I chose trying to live a lie over you. And the things I called you…” He dropped his hands and stepped back. “I didn’t want to be those things. I thought wanting you made me those things, and I am so sorry.”

Henry turned his back. His arms worked as he rubbed at his face, but Sam could still hear the sobs.

He loved me.

He wanted me.

He was scared.

“Hen?”

“And I lied to Richard about you.” Henry sniffled. “I told him what I did, but I said you had nothing to do with me avoiding London all those years. It’s the only lie I ever told him that I didn’t recant when we came together.”

“You were avoiding me?”

“Yes, but I was keeping myself away from you too. I was afraid I would see you and go back on all my selfish promises. Couldn’t let myself be tempted.” He snorted a humorless laugh. “So much for that, huh? I met Richard because I went looking to be tempted. After a while, I stayed away because I was ashamed, and I didn’t want to face you.”

They were silent for a time, the embarrassing sounds of sniffling and wiping faces the only break. Shame coiled in Sam’s gut. Why had he not spoken to Henry sooner? If he had just let go some of his anger, they could have spoken and he would have known. He stepped away from the door and stopped behind Henry, who was still facing away and shaking out a limp handkerchief. Sam wrapped his arms around him.

Henry gasped and spun around, pulling Sam into an embrace that forced the air from his lungs.

“So sorry,” Henry gasped, cheek pressed into Sam’s hair.

“It’s all right,” Sam managed. “I s-should have let you talk to me sooner. You tried, and I wouldn’t listen. God, I tried to thrash you, even.”

Henry laughed, bitter and tear stained. “I’m sorry about that too. At Jackson’s. I was angry and—”

“And I didn’t leave you any choice. And, oh God, I’m sorry I said I hated you. I’m sorry.” Sam spoke against the ruffle of Henry’s shirt, still hugging him. He breathed, and the old scent of Henry’s cologne shocked him. It was still the same after so many years.

“I still hurt you that day. My reasons don’t make it much better. I hurt you, and I did it on purpose.”

“You were scared—”

“On purpose,” Henry insisted. “To push you away and make you never consider coming near me again. How can you forgive me?”

“I can, if you will let me.” Sam lifted his gaze, giving Henry a wry look. “Unless you are determined to convince me otherwise.”

Henry laughed. “No. If you are giving forgiveness, I will snatch it up. I have missed you. I’ve missed my friend.”

Fresh tears threatened Sam’s newly dried face. He forgot them when he felt Henry’s fingers brush under his chin, lifting it. He stared into those gorgeous cornflower eyes he had loved so much as a boy.

“I want to do something. I want to do that day over, just this one thing.” He did not need to explain. Sam knew, and he wanted it too. It would not erase anything that had happened or change the last nine years, but still he wanted that balm to his wound.

Henry kissed Sam. Just once, slow and simple, Sam’s bottom lip slipping between his like cool silk. He still smelled the same. How could he still smell the same? But things weren’t the same, and Sam realized he would not change them if he could, not now. He had raged and cried and hated so much, but if any of it had been different… He pulled back.