The Hunt Club Chronicles Bundle (7 page)

He’d known that. “Where is your family?”

Stackpool sighed. “Dead. I’ve taken care of myself since I was seven.”

Now that was news to Nathan. If he remembered correctly, there had been a glowing reference from several respectable Londoners, all attesting to Stackpool’s character and reliability. There was no mention of him being an orphan. “And this friend of yours that Lewes is so interested in. Who exactly is he to you both?”

“A friend, and a whore.”

“A woman?” Nathan was surprised. Lewes had little use for women. He couldn’t imagine him searching for one unless he’d been swindled.

Stackpool’s face reddened. “Rather than have you guessing all day until you get your damn answers, I’d rather get this over with. My friend is a whore from
London
’s Hunt Club, a place where I worked until I entered your service.”

Nathan stilled as his mind connected Hunt Club with a distant memory. “Hell’s teeth, were you employed there as a whore?”

Chapter Eight

Henry flinched. Byworth had learned of the Hunt Club’s male companions.

Heart pounding, he wriggled off the bed and searched for his trousers. When he didn’t find them, he turned around. “Where are my clothes?”

The duke sat up and swung his legs over the side of the mattress. “Below stairs. They stink of white smoke.”

Uncomfortable with standing naked before the duke, Henry grabbed a pillow and set it before his groin. “If you will excuse me, Your Grace, I’ll be on my way.”

As Henry passed the duke, breath churning with anxiety, His Grace caught his arm. “Get back into bed. I cannot have you prowling the house in that state. The coachman might return at any moment.”

Henry hesitated. Being found in such a state by another man without clothing to hide his desire would be risky to the duke’s reputation. As much as the duke might wish him ill, Henry would not cause him to be unfairly accused of involvement with a sodomite.

The duke’s thumb stroked over Henry’s arm. He glanced sideways and caught his master gazing at his bare bottom. Startled, he turned so the pillow stood between him and Byworth. “I think, perhaps, I should be on my way before you send for my executioner.”

The duke tugged Henry toward him. “No executioner. You’re much too handsome for the long drop.”

Henry’s mouth fell open.

The duke tugged his arm again, sending Henry staggering toward the bed head. “Get your ass back in bed, Stackpool, before I do something incredibly stupid.”

 Henry dove under the sheets, hiding his erection as best he could. Yet his heart thudded with the knowledge that Byworth knew his inclinations and didn’t care enough about them to raise a fuss.

A surge of relief passed through his heart. He may not have to leave
Grantley
Park
. He may not need to live in fear that his employer would learn of his inclinations and dismiss him any longer. He’d still have to take great pains to remain respectful and keep his desires well hidden. However, even with those conditions, a great weight lifted from his shoulders. He smiled suddenly, then schooled his features to polite subservience again.

“Tell me how you came to be at Lewes’ estate?”

The duke’s calm question whipped Henry from his ruminations. He licked his lips, debating whether he should keep secrets. Given the duke knew of his nature, and hadn’t thrown him out, he elected to tell the truth. “We met at the village tavern, and he invited me to join him at his hunting box.”

“Invited? That doesn’t sound like the Duke of Lewes I’m acquainted with.”

Henry grimaced. “Perhaps invited was too mild a word, but to refuse him would have drawn attention. I had intended to slip away unnoticed later.”

The duke scowled. “After he, and his cronies, had their way with you?”

Even after all this time, a hot flush crept over Henry’s cheeks at the subject. “Lewes never touched me that way. I wasn’t agreeable to his demands.”

The duke stared. Usually his appraisal caused only a momentary rush of desire that he could control, yet today there was an odd edge to the glance. Eventually, the duke nodded and glanced away. “You should rest. I’ll have your clothes returned after Brown launders them.”

Henry sat up. “Don’t launder them. Bring them to me.”

“No.” The duke stood. “I’ll not bring that stench up here.”

“Please, Your Grace, you can throw them out the window when I’m done but I must see them now. It’s very important.”

Although the duke frowned, he left the chamber while Henry fidgeted to get comfortable. He hoped that his suffering had been worthwhile. He hoped he hadn’t lost the duchess’ diary.

The duke hurried in, arm held before him, and tossed a messy pile of cloth to Henry. He quickly found his waistcoat, ran his hands over the lining, and touched paper. “Thank heavens.” Henry pulled the torn pages from a slit he’d cut and made a stack on the bed. “The duchess’ diary, Your Grace, sans cover. I’m afraid I had to excise the sheets.”

The duke plucked the pages from the mattress and shuffled through them. “Did you read any of this?”

“Other than determining the authenticity of the handwriting, I did not. That is every page written by the duchess’ hand. I left the cover and blank pages behind to delay the Lewes’ discovery of the theft.”

The duke’s deep sigh rattled through the room. “Stackpool, what would I do without you? You are the most loyal and selfless man I know.”

Before he could stammer out a reply the duke crossed the room, clutched Henry’s skull, and kissed him full on the mouth. For a moment, Henry was too stunned to react. But as the duke’s tongue teased the seam of his lips, he opened his mouth and kissed him back. Pleasure fizzled along every nerve as the duke bore him to the mattress and continued his tender assault.

Yet the kiss ended far too soon. Henry shuddered as the duke drew away, wariness replacing his desire swiftly.

The duke, however, only stared at the pages in his hand. “Thank you for these.”

Byworth turned away, dragged a chair toward the window and bent his head to read, leaving Henry more confused than ever.

However, one thing stood out clearly in his mind. The duke had enjoyed that kiss: his trousers appeared quite snug in the front.

“You should eat.” The duke waved the papers in the air. “This could take a while.”

Henry held the beautiful man’s gaze as long as he could, but he knew a blush was flooding his cheeks. “Yes, Your Grace.”

But the sudden dismissal cut. To hide his discomfort, Henry fixed his attention to the heaped tray. When he had finished every bite, the duke was still reading so, with no other demands on his time, he lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes against his body’s aches and pains.

The summer light was fading from the sky as the bed dipped beside Henry. With a start he realized he’d slept the afternoon away and he quickly glanced at the duke to see if he was in need.

The duke sighed and raked a hand through his hair, disturbing the precise waves. “We need to return to Grantley tomorrow. Will you be well enough to make the journey?”

Henry quickly took stock of his aches and pains. He nodded. “I will be ready when you desire to go.”

The duke snorted. “I’d rather remain here, but—” he held up the remnants of the diary—“my duchess must be dealt with.”

Henry looked up at his master sharply. “What has she done now?”

Immediately, he regretted his demand for more information. It wasn’t his place to question his employer, but he did care for his reputation. Given the duke’s expression, the diary had contained something distasteful.

When the duke never answered, Henry lowered his head. He shouldn’t have asked. One soul stirring kiss did not make them equals.

The duke brushed his hand over Henry’s sheet covered foot. “Are you hungry?”

Henry hastily slid his limb away. “No thank you, Your Grace.”

Byworth shifted restlessly on the bed, rubbing his hand across his upper thigh repeatedly. Henry struggled to keep from staring. The master had impressively thick legs. He’d enjoyed the view for some time.

“I’ll return directly.”

As helpful as any footman, the duke scooped up the tray and ruined clothing and disappeared out the door. When his steps had faded past hearing, Henry thumped his head against the pillow.

Fool. Despite that kiss, he should not lust after his employer. Byworth was a married man and, like most titled men, given to chasing light skirts when in Town. Resigned to giving up an impossible wish, he curled onto his side and attempted to fall asleep before the duke returned.

But sleep proved impossible. He was wide awake when the duke returned to the chamber. Fabric rustled and then the room darkened, yet moonlight fell upon his face.

As the duke slipped into the bed behind Henry’s back, desire clawed through him.

Byworth moved closer and settled a hand on his shoulder. When he applied greater pressure, Henry rolled to his back. “Did I thank you properly for your devotion?”

Despite the dark, Henry ducked his chin as his face grew warm. He’d received a kiss for his trouble, but he selfishly wanted more.

His Grace’s breath tickled his cheek. “Thank you, Stackpool. You have saved me a great deal of embarrassment. But if you go near the Duke of Lewes again, I will paddle your narrow ass personally.”

Henry rolled toward the duke. His head landed on the duke’s bent arm, and he was pulled into a tight embrace. He winced at the pressure over tender bruises, but the distraction of the duke brushing his hair from his eyes stifled his voice. The duke’s lips pressed to his cheek, then proceeded to kiss a path to his lips.

Sweet heavens, when the duke claimed his mouth in another soul numbing kiss, Henry couldn’t resist. He grasped Byworth’s head roughly and slanted his mouth to deepen the kiss. When Byworth groaned, memories arose—a face touched by moonlight, dark hair threaded through his fingers and Henry’s wet hand pushing the duke down onto his prick.

Henry broke the kiss.

He hadn’t dreamt the kiss before, he’d lived it. Lips brushed again and obliterated every thought in his head. Henry let him have his way, feeling heat scald him where they touched. The duke’s hands were gentle, brushing over bruises, yet sweeping his body with hunger.

Henry’s ass clamped tight in anticipation, but in doing so he was reminded that he wasn’t capable of taking a man inside. Disappointment broke into his enjoyment. He pulled back from his master with regret. Byworth followed, pushing him deep into the bedding and pressed his lips to his neck, hovering over his pulse.

Henry freed his arm from between them and draped it over the broad shoulders. Hard muscles shifted and moved as his master repositioned to lick at his nipples. Given the degree of attention he was receiving, Henry couldn’t help but moan.

The duke chuckled. “Like that, do you?”

Byworth fastened his lips over the peaked bud and sucked, his face burrowing into Henry’s chest and setting his already over-wound nerves on fire.

“Yes,” Henry gasped. He threaded his fingers through Byworth’s wavy hair. No dream this time. His master pleasured him by moonlight.

A sudden caress against Henry’s prick dragged a whimper from his throat. “I take it you like that too, Your Grace?”