Indulgence 2: One Glimpse (45 page)

The carriage made a turn he was not expecting, and he moved to tap the roof.

“Don’t.” Richard stayed his hand. “I gave your man another direction. We’re not going to Shaw’s; he isn’t there.”

“What? Where is he?”

“Before we left, I suggested to Henry that he wake Sam long enough to take him to our house. I thought… Well, I thought it would be best if you were able to be with him tonight.” Richard cleared his throat and gazed out the window. John could swear he looked embarrassed.

“You said ‘our house.’ What house?”

Richard chuckled. “Shaw did find himself a green one in you, didn’t he? Henry and I have a small house, unworthy of notice, where we can go. Our relationship is hardly limited to quick embraces in the study before the servants bring tea.” He cleared his throat again. “Anyway, you and, eh, Shaw are welcome to the place tonight. I can’t imagine with that runner having been following you—”

“No, right. Our, um, arrangements are going to have to be changed.” It was John’s turn to gaze out the window. How absurd that there should be awkwardness. They were both cut from the same vine, so to speak. He nudged Richard’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

Richard grunted a reply, which made John smile. Only two weeks ago John never would have fathomed that Richard Avery preferred men. Recalling all the times he had observed Richard and taken some innocent pleasure in his handsome face and fine physique, he wanted to laugh. He did.

“What’s funny?”

John shook his head. “Nothing. I was just remember a time we ran into each other at Tattersall’s, and I… Never mind.”

“Oh, you mean that day you told me I would cut a fine figure riding a black stallion?” Richard laughed through his nose. “I remember, and was quite flattered.”

“Curse it.”

“By the by, thank you again.”

“Shut up.”

“Relax, Darn. I won’t tell Shaw.”

John snorted. “I won’t tell
Henry
.”

* * * *

Sam woke to the sound of the bed ropes creaking. The mattress dipped behind him, and he shifted to keep from rolling back. He was so tired, weighed by the damn laudanum he knew he must have had but could not remember taking. Curse Henry. Then a cool hand slid over his waist, and he woke fully with a start.

“Shh-shh. It’s me, love. Go back to sleep.”

“John?”

“Yes. Let’s sleep now.”

“Mmm. D’you have Henry drug me?”

“You could barely stand. You needed it.”

“Hate laudanum.”

“I do too.” John settled in behind Sam and pressed a kiss to his cheek, making him moan. He rolled over and into John’s arm. He snuggled his face against the tickling hairs of John’s chest without a care to how childish he was being. He was not even sure where they were and was too dazed to care. John did not seem to care either as he wrapped him arms around Sam. John kissed his head again.

“Y’smell funny.”

John’s chest rumbled with laughter. “I have been to strange places tonight.”

“Still good, though… Smell like you.” Sam thought he was slurring even though his words sounded fine to him. Odd.

“You are well past foxed, my love. Best to sleep it off.”

“Mm-mm. ’s your fault.”

“Yes.”

“Sills, happened?”

John sighed. He began stroking Sam’s back, drawing little moans Sam seemed unable to control. “Everything is fine,” John whispered. “Richard and I took care of it. I will tell you everything tomorrow.”

Sam nodded, then thought about John and Richard running around the city together, like heroes in a play. He chuckled. “Mm-mm. Richard doesn’t like me.”

“I’m not sure if that’s true.”

“No, ’s true. Made him hate me cause was an ass.”

Laughter rumbled John’s chest again. Oh, Sam liked that. So deep, and the vibration felt good. He would have to make John laugh more. All the time. Yes, he would do that.

“Shh. Sleep, Sam. I’ll pretend it’s for you, but I can hardly stay awake.”

“All right.” Sam yawned, and when his lips brushed John’s chest, it felt like just the thing to kiss him, so he did. John’s chest felt nice.

“You are killing me, love.” John chuckled again.

“Henry took me to…’s house, for us, be at his house.” Did he say that or just think he said it? It didn’t feel like he said it.

“I know. We’re here.” John rocked him.

“Henry’s nice.”

The rocking stopped. “Yes. Henry’s nice.”

“Mm-mm. Loved him.” Yes, he had loved Henry. Such silly boys, taking such delight in holding hands.

“All right. Did— Do you still love him?”

“Mm?” What was John asking about Henry? Sam was so tired. Why were they talking about Henry? “Talked to Henry. Told him.”

John’s embrace tightened around Sam enough that he wondered what was happening.

“You told him you love him?”

Sam blinked. John’s voice sounded strange, like he was scared. Love him? Love who? Ah, he must be asking Sam if he loved him. What a stupid question.

“Love you, John.” Sam chuckled. “Love you so much.”

“You don’t love Henry?”

“Hen? Rich loves Henry, stupid.”

“Good Lord, Sam. You are ridiculous on this stuff.” John laughed, his voice normal again.

“Huh? You’re ridicliss…dickalus. You’re a dick.”

John erupted with laughter, shaking the bed and pulling Sam into him arms as he rolled.

“Bah!” Sam cried. “Shut up. ’s wrong with you. Tryin’ to sleep!”

John continued to laugh. “I love you. I love being with you and holding you.”

Sam smiled. That was good. Yes, he didn’t mind the noise so much if John loved him. “All right good. Love you, but shh.”

John kissed Sam again and said something, but he had drifted too far. He only knew the warmth and the softness and John holding him, and knowing he was happier than he had ever been, and tomorrow it would be better still.

Epilogue

One Month Later

“How is Flor doing?”

Sam fingered the letter in his hands, the edges floppy and dark from being read a dozen times over. “Very well. Remarkable, in fact. It’s all just so remarkable.”

John squeezed Sam’s knee, an act they could easily get away with in the carriage despite the open curtains. Sam gave him a smile, and the ache in his cheeks spoke of how he had been wearing his happiness for days. The letter defied belief and had changed everything. Flor would return to town. She would be received and her disgrace forgiven. There were already invitations for her on his desk and supportive society matrons visiting Kat daily.

“I can’t believe he did this,” Sam muttered, perhaps for the hundredth time since he learned about the letters a week ago. Yes, letters. Evers’s script was all over town.

“Guilt pushed him, as it should have.” John scowled, still harboring no love for Evers. “I must admit, I didn’t think him capable of it. I have never had a good opinion of him.”

“But to do this, to take all the blame on himself.” Sam shook his head, still in disbelief.

Evers had written to every prominent hostess and society stalwart of the ton, confessing his sole responsibility for the scandal and weaving a rather ingenious lie to do it. He claimed he forced Flor to accompany him to Scotland under threat of blackmailing Sam with false allegations of a vague but nefarious sort. And Flor, thinking of nothing but the safety and happiness of her brother, had sacrificed her reputation and future joy to protect him. It was only through a last-minute pang of conscience that Evers had decided against the plot and returned Miss Shaw to her brother’s house, but the damage had been done, and it was entirely, utterly his doing. Miss Shaw had been given no choice.

It went without saying that any mention of that bastard Sills was impossible.

“Quite a thing.” John shook his head. “Recovering from the real scandal would have been hard enough for him, but this is untenable. He has destroyed himself to save Miss Shaw. But something about it feels off the mark. It is as if we never knew him at all.”

Sam understood the sentiment. He could not get over the uneasy questions swirling in his mind. Why did Evers tell them about Sills? Why did he burn his reputation to cinders to save Flor? What had he meant by those mad accusations of Sam ignoring him in school? Perhaps he would never know. With Evers’s ruining himself the way he had, it was possible none of them would see his face again.

“I do wonder what he will do and where he will go,” John said. “His father has cut him off, at least that is the talk anyway.”

Sam snorted. “The family is drowning in debt. I doubt Evers would have continued to receive his allowance for much longer regardless.” Sam folded the letter and put it away. He did not want to feel sorry for Evers, not after what he had done and the hell he had threatened to bring down on them. The fact that Sam was doing just that prompted him to change the subject.

“Did you happen to see Julian at all today?”

John made an apologetic face. “No, I’m sorry. He has not responded to your letters?”

Sam shook his head and sighed. He appreciated John’s concern, as Sam had been worrying about Julian for weeks. It wasn’t just the nature of their parting that worried him, making him fear he had lost an old friend. It was more than that. Julian wasn’t himself. The last time Sam had seen him he’d looked as if he had not slept in days, and had been wearing the same suit of clothes for just as long. Sam had even heard a passing mention that Julian had moved out of his rooms in St. James, which Sam could not understand at all.

“I have been discreet enough just sending letters,” Sam said. “But if I don’t have word of him soon, I will set my valet to see if there’s any gossip in the servants’ quarters. I’m not above it.”

“I have seen his father around.” John made a sour face. “He’s like talking to a disgruntled bull, but I will see if I can’t get a clue here or there next time I see him. If he knows anything, that is.”

“Or even cares,” Sam grumbled. He knew he had no cause to feel guilty over Julian, but he did all the same. If he was in some sort of predicament, Sam wanted to help. But all that was for another time. Today, he had other concerns.

“Will you tell me where we are going now?” Sam said, crossing his arms.

“Mmm? No, I don’t think I will.” John feigned a yawn and tilted his head back.

“Turnabout, is it? Wasting your time. Whatever surprise you’ve concocted can’t possibly be as grand as my palatial vacant shop with the white murals.”

“I agree, but I’m willing to take second place.” John licked his lips, then leaned over as close as safety allowed with the open windows. “I do miss that little set of rooms, by the way, even if we barely had time to make use of them. And I have missed you, love. It’s been too long.”

Sam blushed under the heat in John’s gaze. It had indeed been too long. They had both decided, reluctantly, that safety had to take precedence, and that had meant waiting to make certain they were no longer under threat. Sills’s spy and his family had boarded a ship with his newfound wealth and vanished to America, while John had followed the proceedings of Sills’s army commission like a jailer transporting a prisoner. Sills was gone, his spy was gone, and John’s hired men had concluded that no one was following them. They were safe again.

Sam took John’s hand and clasped it between his, caressing his warm skin in a sudden burst of want. He loved the feel of John’s hands, strong and callused, always so warm no matter the weather. He longed to feel them on him, around him, holding him down. The last one in particular sent a delicious shiver down his spine.

The carriage slowed to a stop, and John opened the door. “Here we are.”

“Thank God,” Sam groaned.

“In a hurry, love?” John smirked and raked his gaze down Sam’s frame, stopping them on the front of Sam’s trousers. “Quite a hurry, I see.”

“Oh, shut up.” Sam made his best scowl, but John merely replied with a wink.

As John paid the driver his fare, Sam craned his neck to take in the full three stories of a narrow, nondescript row house. The brick exterior was patched in several places, and the black front door was hardly a single step off the ground, suggesting the house had no cellar space to speak of. The windows were narrow, and the glass so colored and wavy Sam doubted one could discern a box from a bag on the other side.

It looked like heaven.

The cab ambled off, and John opened the front door with an absurdly large key. Once inside, John looked over the spartan front room with uncertain eyes.

“I know it’s a tad shabby,” he began, shifting his weight, “and the neighborhood is well into third rate, but I wanted to be sure we were out of the way of—”

John couldn’t form another word as Sam smothered his lips and sent him stumbling against the door. The muffled
oomf
that puffed past John’s lips only encouraged Sam as he laced his fingers behind John’s neck to pull him down, deepening the kiss. John opened for Sam, and he invaded like a conqueror. He knew what he was doing and just how John would react.

John grabbed Sam’s wrists, breaking his hold as he spun them around to trade places, pressing him against the door. The moment Sam felt his wrists pinned to the cool wood over his head, he trembled.

Yes, yes.

Bronze eyes bored into Sam’s, making him shrink down and pull against the hands that held him, just enough to feel the hold.

“I think you are goading me.” John’s eyes danced as he leaned in and placed a teasing lick across the tip of Sam’s nose. “I also think we should tour the house. A very
thorough
tour could take hours. The attics are of particular interest—”

“I think the bedchamber is of particular interest,” Sam blurted, the sound of his own coursing blood muddying his hearing. For weeks his thoughts had swirled around a single amorous dream, with each night and woolgathering moment adding more torturous detail. How could he be asked to wait for grace when he had spent weeks thinking about the meal?

John’s answering grin was playful and predatory at once. He kept hold on Sam’s wrist and led him through the house. Sam barely had a moment to notice the plush woven rugs beneath their feet or the amber-filled decanters on the sideboard before they reached a narrow staircase. They stomped up like a herd, John pulling Sam so quickly he stumbled twice, reducing them both to absurd giggles.