Bed of Crimson Joy

[BluesDog]

CHAPTER I

The Brigand had suddenly reappeared in London.

I must have gaped like a Billingsgate carp as I stared across the crowded room. My heart pounded and my legs felt weak. I perceived that were I to collapse from the shock, the crush of guests would have prevented me from reaching the floor. Much time had past since we last met, perhaps fourteen years or more, but I could not mistake him. Unfashionably wigless, his dark, unruly curls were gathered at the nape of his neck by a black ribband, but not even the frock coat of bottle green velvet could make Daniel Moore appear the dandy. To the contrary, even in this rarified society, he had that air of danger and power that I had been unable, or unwilling, to forget

The ballroom of Bedford House off Grosvenor Square was illuminated by sparkling light from the great crystal chandeliers overhead and the tapers in sconces flanking the numerous mirrors. La crème of society in the latest fashions swirled in the space between us to the strains of an orchestra. When first we met, seemingly a lifetime ago, at Macalester’s School in Eastcheap, Daniel had been such a hellion that the Head Master declared, “The mark of brigandry and the gallows are stamped upon your forehead.” Ever after, he was known as “The Brigand,” a name that suited his dark looks and brooding eyes. If not deterred by Daniel’s height and the impressive span of his shoulders, none who looked into the depths of his eyes would dare to obstruct his way

When we had parted ways at the end of our term at school, I with some small distinction to Christ Church College at Oxford, he to His Majesty’s army, I never expected to see him again. Yet, here we were, our paths again converged to but a few steps’ difference.

As the violins launched into a spirited quadrille, I moved toward the doors to the terrace in order to take a turn in the gardens and gather my rattled wits when I brushed against Lady Bedford, our hostess. I bowed deeply to her and offered apologies for my clumsiness.

She brandished her fan in my direction, braying, “There is no harm, sir.”

Lady Bedford could scarcely reach my shoulder even when tottering on the towering heels with which she was shod this evening, yet she was one of the most formidable women in London. Almost no one dared to refuse an invitation to Bedford House, and it is whispered that even the Duke of Wellington virtually groveled if he had a prior engagement. For this glittering assemblage, she was gowned and wigged in a style that had passed from fashion during the reign of Mad King George, when her ladyship made the most dazzling debut of the season. In spite of her willful refusal to yield to the passing of taste, with the Bedford emeralds dripping across her expansive decolletage, Lady Bedford was as relentless a force in Polite Society as one of the new steam engines.

“How delightful to see you here so late in the season, “ she said somewhat acidly as she adjusted her gloves. “Just last week Lady Ponsonby expressed that you would have retreated already to your country house to fiddle with your books and your scientific papers. I told her that the country would hold little charm for you since your estate is devoid of feminine ornament.”

I suspected there was a barb cunningly concealed in this remark, but her bland expression betrayed nothing.

“This is quite a impressive turnout,” I said, warily eying the multitude thronging the ballroom and the adjacent salons. “One of the events of the season, surely.” I purposefully manouevered myself so I was facing away from Daniel and would not see him.

“Tut, sir.” Lady Bedford retorted. “A few friends gathered for a little amusement.” Her eyes took on a malicious sparkle as she continued, “But did you see my great triumph? Not even the Queen can offer her guests such a fellow. Look , sir! Look!”

As she jabbed my shoulder with her fan, I was forced to turn to again face Daniel. I pretended to survey the crowd as I queried,” For what especial treasure am I looking, Madam? It is a virtual Debrett’s made flesh.”

“There,” she crowed, pointing at Daniel. “There! The looming colossus that is suffering the simpering attentions of Countess of Windham. Do you know who he is? Of course, you do not. No one does, but you will recognize his name, sir. All here know his name, but he never frequents London, and I have brought him here. My great triumph, my Trafalgar”

My mind raced as I wondered if she knew or suspected that I knew Daniel Moore by sight I asked, “Madam, please do not keep me on tenterhooks. Who might this paragon be?” I tried to keep my voice even, but there was a catch that Lady Bedford was too self-absorbed to note.

“My dear sir, it is none other than Colonel Moore of the Royal Horse Guards! Wellington himself singled him out for his conspicuous merit on the plain of Waterloo.”

“Ah,” I said lightly. “A true hero.”

Lady Bedford looked at me sharply. “Indeed he is, sir. A very great hero. I am determined to keep him here in London for the rest of the season and to see him properly wived. ‘Tis a pity he has no family or property to speak of, but I wonder…” She trailed off with a speculative glance around the ballroom. “With his sterling character and, dare I say it, his great beauty, I think he will be quite the catch for a certain type of heiress. Not suitable for one of my granddaughters, of course, but many a family would count themselves fortunate to snare our Colonel Moore.” She snapped her fan open and languidly stirred the air. “I do not understand your generation of fashionable young bucks, with your aversion to sweet married bliss.”

I averted my face and smiled to myself. Lord and Lady Bedford’s icy relationship was the stuff of legend, even in Mayfair where bitter, decades-long campaigns of marital warfare were as common as housemaids dismissed with swollen bellies. I plucked a cup of brandy punch from the gilded salver of a passing footman and sipped in silence as Lady Bedford prattled on. Daniel was distantly reflected in a mirror over her shoulder, and while I saw him only at the edge of my vision, I was keenly aware of his virile presence.

During our school days, he had an almost ethereal beauty that entranced the masters so that even his most egregious transgressions of the rules were always forgiven. In the intervening years, the angelic quality of his face had been replaced by something more brutally erotic. The misadventures of war, I supposed. Something of the sensual air of one of the great cats at Regent’s Park lingered about him, a tiger or a leopard in threatening repose.

I looked more closely in the mirror at his reflection in time to see a broad grin he directed at Lady Windham, his teeth flashing white and even between deeply-carved dimples. He could, I thought, provide as apt a model for a marble Adonis that the most discriminating of the ancient Greeks desired.

“Now, sir, I must leave you,” Lady Bedford sighed. “ If I do not rescue Colonel Moore from Adelaide’s clutches, he shall sound the retreat to whatever refuge he can secure, and I shall lose him again. There is a limit to any man’s valor.” I bowed, laughing, in her wake as she sailed across the ballroom.

To my horror, she divided the crowd of people like a Moses in violet moiré and nothing but empty air separated me from Daniel.

His eyes swept the room and stopped as he saw me. Recognition flashed in his face, and then as quickly disappeared. With a faint upturn at the corners of his mouth, one could not really call it a smile, he bowed slightly and sauntered with fluid grace across the parqueted floor toward me.

Suddenly, Daniel and I were face to face again. “Sir William,” he said. “What a lot of time it has been.”

Too much time, I thought desperately, and not enough.

 

[DonQuixote]

Dear Blues Dog,
This is an intriguing start. A foray into Victorian England at its height. All the pomp and circumstance of full-busted ladies in their whalebone corsets magnifying their magnificent decolletage. And the men, in their Knee length breeches, stockings, velvet suitcoats and powdered wigs.

The Raw, Savage, Masculinity of the focal point of our narrator, keenly apparent. What have we, some Mollies of the era, to borrow from the historical perspectives of Diana Gabaldon and her Outlander Series?

This is certainly a much more formal piece of literature. I look forward to your next installment.

 

[gaytxn09]

Nice. Hope this continues. I've always loved historical fiction.

 

[angelus]

Very interesting start. Always been a fan of Historical Fiction and you've built the suspense up very well. What's the story between Daniel and William. Can't wait to find out.

 

[BluesDog]

Chapter II

Daniel and I stared eye-to-eye, unlike in our schooldays, when he had been pleased to press an advantage of height. My pulse raced furiously, while my breath caught in my throat. He extended his hand to me, but I could do naught but stare at him in dismay.

"Will you not take my hand in friendship, William?" he queried serenely. "Or are you too much of the Gentleman-Farmer to greet an old soldier?"

With great reluctance, I shook his hand, and at the touch, a frisson of electricity coursed through me. If Daniel felt the spark, he betrayed no emotion, but seemed to hold my hand longer then cordiality required or convention would dictate as prudent.

"Ah!" he remarked, "you have the hand more of a farmer than of a gentleman."

"Hard toil on one's estates were no shame, Colonel," I retorted. "Their increase and ornamentation afford great satisfaction."

"Nay, sir, you mistake me. I was merely remarking the fruit of you labors since I had appreciated the admirable manner you fill..." The damnable man paused and seemed to rake a glance over the front of my breeches before continuing, "your coat." The warmth of Daniel's smile was sincere, but some quality in his eyes alarmed me.

A thousand emotions and feelings I thought long gone seized me in an iron grip, and every instinct urged me to fly from this place and this man.

Fourteen summers had gyred into fourteen winters since the last time I had seen Daniel. Fourteen Aprils had witnessed my silent salute to his birthday as I grew from a mere stripling to a man of property and reputation, but here I stood before him quivering as any blushing maiden. Would that I could deny his hold on me, but while he had been a charming youth in possession of a devilishly comely face, Daniel radiated now a stunning splendor, and he seemed much too large even for the magnificence of the Bedford House ballroom.

The glowing light of the candles drew unevenly across his rugged face, casting deep shadows around his darkly mysterious eyes. He regarded me intently, searching my face as I struggled to regain my composure. I was immersed in unexpected... and most unwelcome... sensations, but I was saved from embarrassment when I noticed Edward Hall hovering a few steps away.

"Dr. Hall," I said hoarsely, "Good evening to you."

"Sir William," he murmured as he bowed to me, "Quite a splendid soiree, no? Very different from our colloquia at the Royal Society. Very different, indeed. The presence of the fairer sex. No women allowed at the Royal Society, sir," he warned me sternly.

I groaned to myself. Hall was one of the most fashionable physicians in London, much in demand in Society, even numbering patients from the more remote reaches of the Royal Family, but he really was a horse's arse. To call him an incompetent buffoon would be to insult buffoons everywhere. An evening passed in his company was never counted as among my happiest.

"To be sure," I said. " I hope to be seeing a new paper from you soon."

While talking to me, he greedily stared at Daniel, "I have a poor trifle or two that I may have to soon release to the eyes of a cruel audience, or see my efforts wasted as they languish on the shelf."

The sheer galling impertinence of the man was scandalous.

"Dr. Hall," I inquired to prevent further discussion of his pen's lamentable yield, "Do you know Colonel Moore, late of the Royal Dragoons."

"My pleasure, Colonel," he squealed. "The gossip has run its course crying your name this evening, but I am delighted to meet such a hero!"

Daniel inclined his head slightly, inquiring, "Do I understand that you are in the Royal Society with William?"

"Indeed," Hall simpered. "Perhaps you are familiar with my study on the nature of the Fainting Sickness among ladies?"

Fainting Sickness was his polite invention for a certain failing brought on by too much Spanish Sherry and too tightly-laced corsets, but the quack had amassed a considerable fortune through his "study" and a tonic of his own devising.

To a casual observer, Daniel looked contrite as he admitted, "No, I am not familiar with your work." The crestfallen dismay on Hall's face was priceless." But I am sure it is important."

The good doctor beamed. "It is a veritable epidemic I am fighting, as severe as the Great Plague."

Colonel Daniel Moore may have deserved his reputation as a great military strategist, hard-won on the Belgian plains, but he had just left his flank open to the enemy in a breathtaking blunder. Dr. Hall had seized the bit and was off in pursuit of glory.

I blocked the torrent of ego and self-promotion from my hearing and watched Daniel grow increasingly discomfited as the monologue waxed longer, my mind coursing on long-forgotten paths in pursuit of elusive quarry.

If I did not escape from his presence, being so close again to Daniel would surely be my undoing. After so many years, I was shocked that the wounds he inflicted on me were not scarred over as I had thought, but had merely been numbed, and now they throbbed anew more vigorously than ever.
I longed to disappear into the crowded night and not look back.

"I hope," said Dr, Hall to an increasingly bored Daniel," to soon have a new paper to read on the subject at a meeting of the Society."

"Splendid," I lied. " That would be our great fortune. If you'll excuse me, I see Lord Trevayne at the whist tables, and I must press him on a brood mare I wish to purchase."

Daniel made an exclamation of surprise and dismay, but Dr. Hall had a rudely firm grasp on his arm, preventing my one-time school mate from following me.

"Sir William, may I call on you while I am in London?" Daniel asked.

"Regrettably, no," I said coldly, looking at a point on the wall behind him. "I leave for my country house tomorrow. It has been my pleasure to see you again."

"Not yet, sir," I heard him say as I hurried off before I fell victim to his effect and thereby seized my ruin. Dr. Hall was loudly declaiming on another topic, holding Daniel firmly captive.

“But a moment, Sir William...” I heard more distantly behind as I hurriedly escaped through the suite of ornate salons, bowing to acquaintances left and right, left and right, a Death's Head grin affixed to my face.

In the cold night air, I slipped a coin to a liveried footman standing in the shelter of the portico to call my carriage.

Lady Bedford opened wide the door, and inquired, "Departing so soon, Sir William?"

"Yes," I coughed into my hand. "I feel a bit feverish."

"Do take care of yourself, dear boy," she said indifferently. "We should all quite keenly regret an absence of any duration."

As the door shut behind her with a whispered click, I wondered Would she still say words of polite formula if she knew the black wickedness I tenderly secreted within my heart?

 

[angelus]

The intrigue grows. Can't wait for more.

 

[harry113]

Thanks Bluesdog. this period piece is coming together well. More please
Harry

 

[BluesDog]

Chapter 3


After arriving at my home, one of a row of terraced houses facing Hanover Square, I dismissed the hired barouche. As I mounted the short flight of marble steps, a light flared behind the fanlight, and my servant opened the broad, paneled door. Joseph was a slender, stooped man of some three-score years and had been in service to my family for most of his life. He held a lantern high to provide me with light.

“Back early tonight, are ye?” he groused.

“Yes,” I said shortly.

“Shortage of punch?” he asked. “Couldn’t give your poor servants a quiet night?” He took my cloak and my hat, and held his hand out for my gloves. “It is a wretched master that so cruelly abuses his servants.

“That’s enough of your impertinence.”

“Plain speech from a plain man. No need to snap at me, sir, because you couldn’t find anyone to listen to your long-winded stories.”

I glared at him. “That is enough, Joseph.”

“Grumpy as a bear with a thorn in his paw. He must have lost at cards, too,” he muttered to no one as he busied himself with the lighting of a candle for me.

I gritted my teeth, saying, “Maybe a thrashing with a birch rod will remind you your role here and tame your saucy spirit.”

Joseph shook his head, sadly, “I was there when they put the first nappy on you.” He started slowly up the stairs. “You should know by now that you can sack me or you can accept me. What you can’t do is change me.”

Even in my anger over Daniel, I suppressed a smile. “Is there at least a fire in the library?”

He continued mounting the stairs, each step a weary rebuke of the tyranny of a wicked master. “Doubt it, but you’re closer to the door than me. Go look for yourself.”

I pushed open the door to the library and was relieved to see that a low fire burned in the grate. This was my sanctuary from the stiff formalities of London Society. Large windows looked out over Hanover Square, and tall book cases filled with bound volumes lined the other walls. The smells of leather and tobacco calmed me as I crossed to the fire. After throwing another log onto the hearth and coaxing it into a blaze, I sat in one of the wing chairs flanking the hearth, unbuckling and removing my shoes.

I sat for a few moments warming by the fire still maddened by Daniel’s presence at the Bedford’s soirée, enumerating all that I had to lose if he chose to expose me to Society and, worse, to the judiciary. Looking around the room, with its delicate plaster ornamentation on the ceiling and the new oil paintings of perspectives of the park at my country house, I was nettled that he held such power over me once again.

As I heard the bells of St George’s tolling the hour, I padded across the thick Aubusson carpet to a dark corner of the room, pausing before a shelf of books bound in Morocco leather, their titles picked out in gilt letters. My fingers trailed along them, searching for a particular volume, “Ten Sermons Against the Heresy of Idolatry in the Border Counties, Newly Translated into Latin.” Not even the most diligent reader among my guests would ever pull this off the shelf, so it remained neglected unless I extracted it myself.

When opened, the book revealed that the pages had been cut away and hollowed out to create a hiding place from which I pulled a single sheet of fine paper, creased and unfolded many times, the wax seal crumbling and the binding ribband frayed and faded from scarlet to old rose. I unfolded the sheet, smoothing it upon my knee, turning it towards the fire so I could better see the lines written there in a hand no longer child-like, but bold and masculine, hinting of the man to come. I read the letter even though the words had long been inscribed on my heart.

Carefully refolding the page, I placed it back in the book and withdrew the other object secreted there, a chain of fine silver links with a chased and embossed medallion suspended from it. My thumbnail inserted and twisted in the seam of the pendant opened it in twin halves with a lock of fine, dark hair on one side and a portrait, scarcely larger than a shilling, on the other. In a few deft strokes, the miniature captured a sardonic gleam in the eye and a curl of the lip that perfectly revealed the sitter.

As I stared into the fire, seeing time flicker in the dancing flames, reflecting on our adolescent relationship and wondering what had brought him back after all these years of silence. My thoughts turned darker as I concluded inevitably that his unwelcome reappearance related to my last letter to him, ill-advised and incriminating in ways that after fourteen years still had the power to make me tremble with shame. The delicate silver chain trickled though my fingers as I contemplated the abyss that threatened to swallow me.

The quiet creak of the door’s hinges brought me back to the present. Thinking it was Joseph, I said, “I don’t need anything. Go on to bed.”

I was shocked to hear Daniel say, “An interesting proposition, Will, but I am unfamiliar with the location of the bed chambers.”

Jumping up from my chair, I demanded, “What the hell are you doing here?” I had the presence of mind to slam the book shut hiding its secret compartment and to slip the chain and portrait into my waistcoat pocket.

“Why, I came to see my dear friend in his home,” Daniel said, then assumed a mock look of dismay. “This is your house, isn’t it? I haven’t stumbled into some nest of your liaison d’amour?” he leered.

“Yes, it is my home! How did you get in?”

He threw himself in the wing chair opposite me, sprawling comfortably. “Vaulted over the garden wall, through a kitchen window, up the back stairs. There may be a broken pot on the scullery floor,” he shrugged. “Sorry.” I doubted if the man had ever truly regretted anything in his life.

“Daniel, again I ask, why are you here?”

He tugged off his boots, ignoring my question. “I danced with some heiress, Arabella something or other, after you skulked out of the cotillion…”

I interrupted, “I did not skulk out!”

He flashed a maddening grin at me, “You skulked.” He massaged one foot and then the other, moaning obscenely like a man in the last throes of passion, “In the course of a few minutes she managed to step on every one of my toes several times.” Daniel looked around with a hopeful expression. “Might we ring for a wee dram of something? The punch tonight was a rather puny offering, and I find myself quite parched.”

I replied with as much coolness as I could muster, “I am not awakening the servants to attend to your thirst.”

“William, you are an abominable host,” he scowled. “Making me call for my own drink.” He threw his head back and bellowed, “Hullo! Whisky here!”

“Shut up!” I hissed. “You’ll wake the whole house. I’ll get it myself.”

He amiably beamed at me, “Good man! I’ll take a whisky if you have a good one; some brandywine if nothing else is available.”

At the sideboard, I poured the liquid from a crystal decanter into two heavy glasses. Daniel took a swig from his and smacked his lips appreciatively. “That is a fine drink, Sparrow. I’m impressed.”

As he watched me drain mine in a single gulp, he lifted a dark eyebrow in amusement. “Don’t call me that!” I snapped.

“What?” he asked. “Sparrow?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Those days are over.”

He cast an eye around the room. “Yes,” he said slowly. “I can see your old nickname could be inappropriate for a man of your standing and reputation.”

With Daniel’s reference to my reputation, a chill fell over me as I was reminded of the power he wielded with the letter in his possession.

He leaned back in the chair, his long legs stretched before him to warm his feet at the fire. “You may be wondering why I am here, William.”

I frowned, “It has occurred to me to ask again, but you would no doubt continue to ignore the question.”

“As you know, after having been away for a long period of time, serving the Crown with no regard for my own personal safety,” his dark eyes danced merrily as he ironically spun his legend, “a grateful public clamors for my company for the balance of the season.”

“So I have heard,” I observed sourly.

Daniel was suddenly more guarded, almost tense, “Counting many friends in the army but few among the dandies of society, I find myself with few options for lodging on my poor soldier’s pay.”

I was beginning to catch the scent of the trail and didn’t like it. “Yes?” I asked, afraid of what was to come.

He leaned forward to say, “I hope that I can presume upon the hospitality of an old school chum.”

“Indeed? You want to stay here?” My mind raced through possibilities, afraid that if I refused, he would produce the letter and a scheme for blackmail.

Daniel added quickly, “I would pay you what I could, of course, to defray the cost.”

My blood pounded in my ears as I cast about for some way to avoid living with this scoundrel under my roof, but at last had to admit defeat. “No, I could not accept any payment from a guest. You are welcome to stay until the Court retires from London for the summer.”

He relaxed visibly and grinned at me. “Excellent! I do so look forward to renewing our friendship.”

After leaping up from the chair, Daniel swaggered across the room--- that’s the only way to describe how the damnable man moved--- to help himself to a liberal portion of my whisky.

“I assume you have someplace else to stay tonight and will return tomorrow?” I asked.

He looked at me in mock alarm. “I am at the White Horse Inn, but surely you don’t plan on casting me out at this time of the night with all of the footpads and ruffians!”

“I would pity the footpads that tangled with you, but if you choose to stay here tonight, you’ll sleep on the settee there. I won’t disturb the servants to ask them to prepare a room for you.”

“Will, I am astonished by the tenderness you display for your servants. I am quite sure that they take shameless advantage of you and are robbing you blind.”

“My household affairs are none of your concern.”

Daniel eyed the settee dubiously, kicking it with an air of general disdain. “This looks damned uncomfortable even to a soldier accustomed to sleeping rough.”

I pointed out tartly, “You may find more comfort at the inn.”

Daniel favoured me with a dazzling smile full of white teeth and deep dimples, “Certainly the master’s bed would be more comfortable. What say ye, Will? Once more for old time’s sake?”

I was almost speechless with anger, the letter he held be damned. “The days when I was your bum boy,” I said through clenched jaw, “at your pleasure with a crook of your finger are long gone, deader than Ceasar himself.”

Something almost like sorrow flickered across Daniel’s face, but he continued in the same light, mocking tone, “I remember the naughty nights of our youth with great fondness, Sparrow, and I am taken aback that you feel such bitterness.”

“Don’t call me that,” I whispered hoarsely. “If you had any sense of decency you wouldn’t dredge up those sordid days.”

He smirked, “If I had any sense of decency I wouldn’t be nearly as amusing or have half as much fun.”


As Daniel prepared the settee as his bed, I watched him, alarmed by this night’s turn of events. He would have me under his thumb for the next several weeks, ready to unleash ruin and disaster at his least whim.

He rolled his greatcoat to serve as a pillow and began unbuttoning his breeches. Turning to see me still standing, he said, “You are welcome to gawp at me in my dishabille as you wish, William, but I assure you that I have nothing you haven’t seen before.” He gave me a seductive glance that made my heart flutter. “Some of it quite intimately.”

I made a feeble snort of derision and stalked out of the library with my dignity in tatters, Daniel’s quiet chuckle taunting me all the way up the stairs. Adding to my humiliation was his soft call, “Good night, Sweet William!” accompanied by the echo of amused laughter.

 

[Craiger]

Oh my god, BD. Six plus years and another chapter. What a delightful surprise. It's really good to have you back continuing this story. I can sense the fear William has and rightly so during such a period of British history. But I also sense he will become the "bum boy" again and with pleasure.... Can't wait for the next chapter.

Craiger

 

[BluesDog]

Chapter 4

After a long night of uneasy sleep punctuated by disturbingly erotic dreams about Daniel, I awoke to the sunlight slanting through the shuttered windows.

As I dressed, several thoughts afflicted me… I was as yet unable to discern whether he intended to produce the letter I had foolishly sent him in our late adolescence, and if he did produce it, to what effect? Nor had he provided a clear indication as to whether his frequent references to our former intimacy signaled a desire to return me to a subordinate role in spite of the change in our respective fortunes and positions in society. Most galling of all the questions was why he had reappeared following fourteen years of silence after he had abandoned me at a time when I was in dire need of a friend. A more distressing event could scarce be borne, especially when I considered that my pulse pounded with yearning whenever I looked at him.

Many men of the upper classes, if not most of them, had engaged in little dalliances and escapades with schoolmates in their youth, but almost all had outgrown those ways and were now married with varying degrees of happiness to ladies of Society. I had not made a similar progression, and was unsure if Daniel had. At thirty-one years of age he was uncommonly old to be still be a bachelor, but he did have a distinguished military career that provided an excuse. His flirtation and the frequent seductive glances might be sincere or they might be an intrigue in his game. Clarifying that distinction was foremost in my defense.

Putting those questions aside, I slipped quietly down the stairs and peeked into the library. It was empty. No sign of my guest… his boots were not on the hearth, his great coat was not spread over the settee. For a foolish moment, I hoped that Daniel had thought better of his scheme to remain in London for a few weeks and had already left.

After walking down the hall past the stairway, I pushed open the heavy door to the dining room to find him sitting at the table, telling a story to a rapt Joseph. “The Prussian troops were held down by cannon fire on the left, but just as Bonapart’s Régiment de la Vieille Garde began to sweep towards them, the sun flashing off their sabres, we came out from cover off the small hill behind them, howling like wild Irish banshees, scattering them like leaves in a November wind.”

“Give that old Boney hell, sir! The Frenchies killed their king and they want to do grievous harm to ours, too,” Joseph cried. “But you stopped ‘em:”

Taking a place at the table, I said drily, “You make it sound as though the victory was due to him alone.”

Daniel grinned and shrugged. “There are one or two gentlemen that claim to have made some trifling contributions, but I don’t begrudge them a bit of glory.” He wore no cravat, and I could scarcely tear my eyes from the muscular column of his throat rising through his open collar.

A meal such as I have never seen in this house was spread over the table: cold boiled beef, two types of sausage, grilled chops, oatcakes, fresh bread with three different jellies, roasted potatoes, rice custard and a macédoine of dried fruits in a rum sauce, all served on my grandmother’s famille verte porcelain brought from China on an East India ship.

Daniel speared a chop with his fork, exclaiming, “William, what a delight to find this fine fellow is still in your employ. And the food! How do you keep so trim?” A smear of grease across his full lower lip caught the light as he spoke, and I wanted to lean forward to thumb it clean.

“I count myself lucky if I find a slice of yesterday’s loaf awaiting me,” I grumbled, tearing my eyes away from him. “Joseph, I’ll take my tea now.”

With furrowed brow he stared at me as though I had asked him to sprout wings and fly about the countryside, retorting, “My hands are full, and the pot is at your elbow.” He shook his head at Daniel, “Just like having a young child in the house. Expects to be waited on hand and foot.”

Joseph shuffled off to the kitchen as I poured the fragrant Darjeeling into a cup. I wondered, not for the first time, what he thought his job was here in my household.

Daniel asked, “What are we doing today?” His voice, pitched low and soft, was like warm honey in my ears, weakening my resolve, but alarm coursed through me at the thought that he expected me to escort him about town until he left. Constant exposure to his relentless efforts to return to my bed would surely be my undoing.

I gathered my wits to respond, “You have a bed while you are here,” wincing as Daniel smirked at the mention of a bed, “but I am not able to keep you company all day. The paper I am writing for the Royal Society is only half done, and there are still the estate accounts to go over.”

Joseph returned to hear Daniel agree cheerfully, “Do whatever you need, Sparrow, I can care for myself. I shall be the very model of patience until you are ready.” His dark eyes were fixed upon me intently, making me suspect some subterfuge in his words.

“Don’t call me that!”

Joseph asked, “Why do you call him ’Sparrow’?” I gave him a withering look that would send any other servant scurrying back to the safety of the cellar, but it had no visible effect on him.

Daniel said expansively, “One of my favorite stories!” He nibbled a bit of cheese thoughtfully. “On my first day at Macalester’s School, we were… what, William… perhaps, eleven years old? I was a tradesman’s son dropped in to be educated with the toffs through the generosity of an unknown benefactor, so you can imagine the cold looks and harsh words from the little blue bloods. I knew this education to be of a stroke of great luck for me, and I had been cautioned to expect that I would be the object of much resentment. Any retaliation on my part, no matter how justly deserved, would result in my expulsion, condemning me to remain for life among the ranks of the undeserving poor.” A glint in his eyes and a hard set of his mouth revealed how much this slight still rankled Daniel even after twenty or so years. “At the afternoon break, two or three of the snobs cornered me in the courtyard and began taunting me about my low birth and uncouth ways.” He smiled ruefully, “I was more than a little rough around the edges, so it was a fair accusation if not a welcome one. As they heckled me, I kept my eyes on the ground, but that just goaded them more. The taunts became shoves, the shoves became slaps, the slaps became punches. Soon, I was on the ground curled up as they kicked me. Suddenly, William comes barreling into midst of these bullies, his tiny little fists flying…”

“Oh, that is too much!” I protested. “I was not ‘tiny’!”

“Weighing hardly six stone soaking wet, you can not deny it.”

I grunted in disagreement.

“May I continue?” he grinned at me. “My ears were ringing from the beating, but William gives a fine oration about compassion and honour and all his other highfaluting philosophy as he shoves them all away from me. They were quite astounded. The shock of being attacked by this wee child rendered them quite immobile. As the bullies slink away, one of them says, ‘Did you ever? It was like seeing a sparrow take on a flock of hawks.’ Will helped me up and Introduced himself as ‘William’ but I have called him ‘Sparrow’ and my friend ever since… a friendship that a quickly deepened into something more.” With one eyebrow arched he looked positively devilish as he selected the largest of the sausages to hold up for inspection.

Joseph, thankfully oblivious to Daniel’s innuendo nodded and said, “Aye, he always has had more heart than brains. And the wicked boys, Colonel, they always left you alone after that?”

Before he could respond, I retorted tartly, “They beat the bloody hell out of both of us for the next three years. It was only after we were both able to give as good as we took that they eased up.”

Joseph started clearing some of the dishes from the table, muttering about so-called betters but I wasn’t opening a discussion about to whom that might apply. Daniel again turned his attention to the food, and I sipped my tea as I studied his handsome profile from beneath my lashes. He was a classical statue made flesh, a Greek god crossed with something darker and more dangerous, a buccaneer or a highwayman perhaps. As my thoughts returned to the sincerity of his attempts at seduction, I decided it was time to take the upper hand. I leaned back in my chair, lacing my hands behind my hand so that the arm and chest muscles hardened by labor in the country would strain against the thin fabric of my lawn shirt. I slid forward on the seat of the chair to ensure that the fine woolen fabric of my breeches would cling to my manhood. Stretching my legs towards Daniel, I said, “You may be correct that the weather is too fine to stay inside today. Let’s ride in Hyde Park this afternoon.”

Daniel looked at me, and I had to suppress a laugh as his eyes glazed over like a pole-axed steer and crumbs of oatcake fell from his open mouth. As he slowly recovered, the stunned look in his eyes was replaced by raw desire. I did not dare to lower my glance to his breeches to see if there was proof of his desire there as well, but I knew then that if I could still inflame him with lust like that, I had an arrow or two in my quiver and would not be entirely at his mercy.

“Joseph,” I bellowed.

“What now?” he groused, poking his head through the door.

“Give a boy on the street a ha’-penny to run to Richardson’s Mews to tell them I’ll take a pair of horses today. Nero, I think, for me,” I looked at Daniel appraisingly, “and perhaps… Venezia… no, Salamanca. Yes, Salamanca will do very well for you.”

“A spirited steed is he?”

“Little better than a child’s pony, but he’s big and handsome so you won’t look foolish on his back.” I quickly added, “Be ready in an hour,” and left the room before he could turn the comment about ‘big and handsome’ to apply himself.

I bounded up the stairs two at a time to my bed chamber, my heart less burdened than it had been since Daniel reappeared in my life. Now I knew that he did not hold all of the power and that I had some options, admittedly very few, and some room to maneuver.

First, I had to select the clothing that would attract attention of Society during an afternoon ride in Hyde Park. During my father’s day, gentlemen had a wide range of colors to choose from and could select elaborate laces and embroidered fabrics to peacock around in. Nearly two decades of wars with the French had resulted in fashion focused on more limited choices but of better quality and cut. Quickly stripping to my small clothes, I opened the cupboard and selected a pair of fine riding breeches in pale grey buckskin. A pair of boots pulled onto my large and rather ungainly feet had been polished to a glassy sheen, one of the few tasks that I could rely on Joseph to do well. Several waistcoats were considered and discarded before I settled on one of brocade the colour of pale, shimmering cream. I loosely knotted an apricot silk cravat around my high collar in the style that the Prince Regent had popularised and searched for an appropriate coat. This was the difficult part of dressing for me since my muscular torso was ever the despair of my tailor. One had even said within my hearing that fitting me was like dressing a gorilla. Needless to say, my patronage was quickly transferred elsewhere.

I finally found the one I wanted: a well-cut coat of black broadcloth that Poole’s had skillfully contrived to drape over my broad shoulders as though I were the idlest gentleman one would happen to meet. The mirror reflected a fashionable man of the town, a face of aristocratic features that befit the grandson of an earl and a body of pleasing proportions. While I was regrettably thicker of chest than was considered tasteful, my slim hips and trim waist meant that I did not have to resort to a corset to achieve the proper silhouette.

After tipping a high-crowned hat at a rakish angle over one eye, I bounded down the stairs to find Daniel pacing restlessly in the stair hall. I ignored his wide-eyed inspection of me and the lust radiating off of him, instead focusing on pulling on my black kidskin gloves and asking, “Are the horses here yet?

Joseph opened the door to show two grooms in the street walking the animals back and forth in front of the house.

“Splendid,” I exclaimed. “Nero! You look well rested.” I vaulted into the saddle on the back of a fine chestnut Arabian with an uncommonly intelligent eye, and indicated to Daniel, “Colonel, take Salamanca there.”

“What a superb mount!” he declared from the back of the grey gelding.

I leaned forward to rub Nero’s shoulder and asked, “You are weary of life in Town, aren’t you? Dreaming of tender Surrey grass, I’ll wager. You’ll be there soon enough.” He regarded me solemnly and flicked his ears a couple of times, slapping his hooves against the cobblestones to indicate that he was ready to be off.

“You speak as though he understands you, William,” declared Daniel.

“This stout fellow certainly does understand,” I laughed. “Furthermore, if he isn’t in Surrey within a fortnight, he’ll bring a suit against me for breach of promise!”

We were soon trotting south though Berkeley Square. With my riding crop, I pointed out the homes of various illustrious citizens including my brother, Charles.

“Charlie? Good Lord, how the devil is he?” Daniel asked.

“Quite well, I think,” I replied. “Married rather well, considering. Now they have three rambunctious sons, each one more like Charles than the other.”

“Considering what?”

I shrugged my shoulders and declined to answer the question in any detail. Truth be told, the problem Charles had was me, or rather because of me. Our father had died a few weeks before my twenty-first birthday. By the time we were summoned for the reading of his will, I had attained my majority, and that was the beginning of Charlie’s predicament. As the solicitor read Father’s documents, nothing untoward appeared… the country house, Norwood, and the large mansion on Berkeley Square properly went to Charles as the eldest son along with sundry other properties. I had a 500-pound bequest, which was quite generous for a “younger son of a younger son.” There seemed to be rather a mass of liens and claims against the estate that would fall to Charles to clear, but nothing too excessive, I thought.

Once all that was cleared up, Mr. Jorkins turned to the question of my recent birthday and the prerogatives and privileges that brought me, to wit, a secret bequest from my grandmother. I had truly enjoyed her company and was the only member of the family to visit her with any regularity during her long and bored widowhood. As a result, the marriage dowry that remained legally in her name was now left to me, the house in Hanover Square and a tidy little estate in Surrey. These were both dwarfed by the properties left my brother, but she also left me an eye-popping amount of cash that had been sequestered from my father’s fortune, leaving very little to pass on to Charles.

My brother was, of course, furious that he was virtually a bankrupt on the very day he came into his inheritance. Through the solicitor I offered to invest heavily in Norwood, but he rebuffed me, from pride, I suspect, and our relationship had been strained ever since.

Daniel and I turned west into Piccadilly, and traffic became noticeably heavier as we neared the park, and as we slowed almost to a crawl, I pointed out the handsome yellow stone mansion by the entrance to the park. “That’s Number One, rumored to be the new home of the Duke of Wellington.”

“Damn, William, if you aren’t a veritable cascade of information!” he cried.

“You must remember that in Society, gossip is the currency that drives the market. One’s wealth is not just in common pounds and shillings, but in secrets and innuendo. A juicy bit of gossip can fly about London with more speed than you can imagine.”

We turned into the park, joining the throng of the fashionable crowded into the lanes. For a bit, Daniel was riding ahead of me, the very image of a well-bred horseman on his sturdy grey gelding, one fist resting on his hip, the reins lightly held in the other, back erect, gazing with interest on the passing parade. I quickly realized, however, that the view of his tightly bunched thigh muscles playing against the fabric of his breeches was proving too distracting, so I trotted ahead of him to greet Lady Ponsonby in her open phaeton with her daughter-in-law, Mrs. Clement. Drawing up next to the carriage, I drew off my hat, and bowed to them.

“Ladies, I count it a singular honor to have seen you here today,” I offered.

“Much too chilly for me!” complained Lady Ponsonby, as she drew her furs about her. “It does not seem that spring will ever be here at last. And so dreary with all the rain.”

Mrs. Clement drawled, “Every garden party has been cancelled on account of bad weather. The streets are a sea of mud.”

Lady Ponsonby tapped me on the arm with her parasol, “Have you heard about Amanda Wentworth?” I caught Daniel’s eye over her head, and he smiled at me, the dimples dancing in his cheeks.

“I have heard nothing. I trust she is not ill?”

Her eyes sparked maliciously, “She broke off her engagement to Lord Grasington.”

I chewed my lip thoughtfully. “Has she disclosed her reason?”

“Her reason!” shrieked Mrs. Clement with angry disbelief. “Her reason! He is a Peer of the Realm with a title that dates back almost to the Norman Conquest, and she is the daughter of a brewer.” Her face was a dangerous shade of purple. “The idea of a little nobody with a fortune made from Commerce breaking off with an aristocrat of the best breeding! Everything is topsy-turvy now.”

“Do settle down, Charlotte,” cautioned Lady Ponsonby. “People are staring.” She turned to me and asked, “Sir William, who is your companion?”

After I introduced them, she remarked, “Lady Bedford mentioned you to me, but said that you were not resident in Town this year.”

He said, “I will be William’s guest through the end of the Season.”

Lady Ponsonby’s eyes narrowed as she did the rapid calculation determining how this arrangement mathematically balanced in the social hierarchy of London. She must have determined that both guest and host benefited since she asked, “You must join me at the theatre one night this week. Mrs. Wallace is presenting scenes from Shakespeare. Do let me know which night.” She called to her coachman, “Drive on!”

As they moved off, I heard Mrs. Clement petulantly complain, “I do hope they ride quickly away from us. Two such handsome men together have drawn every lady’s eye and no one is remarking my new bonnet.”

After we rode on, greeting other members of the beau monde, Daniel pulled up questioning, “Who is that milk sop staring daggers at me?”

I glanced at the man he pointed out, and my heart shriveled. “Lord Richard Morris,” I replied curtly. Lord Morris was indeed giving Daniel a look of the purest hatred, eyes blazing and his lips thinned and stretched over his teeth in a grimace of distaste,

“Who is he?”

“Youngest son of the Earl of Newton.” I bowed to the man as we passed, but his eyes were locked on Daniel and he ignored me.

“Never heard of him. Why would he so angry with me. Damn me if he wouldn’t slit my throat if we could reach me.”

“I assure you I have no idea.”

Daniel’s handsome brow furrowed as he thought. He rode on for a few more moments. “Wait… could it be?” I silently commanded, Daniel, leave it be! “That whispy fop?… and you?”

“Not that it is any of your concern,” I said stiffly, “but it was of very brief duration and over long ago.”

“You may think it’s over, but I am not sure that the news has reached him.” He suddenly threw back his head and roared with laughter. “The thought of the two of you! Too rich.”

I burned in silent humiliation, once again.

“No… no… he is all wrong for you. Of course, it would never work.” He flashed that infuriating grin, his tongue running over his lower lip. “Do you know what sort of man I think would suit you?”

“Nothing could be of less interest than your opinion on this topic.”

“Very well, I’ll tell you,” he said thoughtfully. “He would have to be a virile, masculine sort, nothing like that pale, prissy…“ he searched for the right word, “shadow of a man.”

“Hmmm,” I said idly, bowing to a gentleman I knew from Tatt’s.

“Certainly as comfortable in the country as in town, in the paddock as in the drawing room. With your interest in the hunt and racing, he would have to be a superb horseman, of course.” He warmed to his subject, “He should be witty and intelligent, but not bookish; charming enough to draw you out of your melancholy thoughts.”

Unwillingly, I asked, “Melancholy?”

“Yes… you do tend towards dark moods from time to time.” He pointed his riding crop at me. “He must be at least of your height and quite handsome lest you continue to be vain about your ludicrous beauty.”

“I am not vain!” I protested.

“Please note that you did not deny your beauty. Vanity, thy name is William,” he insisted. “I have counted at least half a dozen mirrors in your home.”

“It is a scientific fact that candles reflected in mirrors increase the amount of light,” I protested.

He smirked, “Indeed?”

“Anything else?” I grumbled.

He pretended to ponder, his face creased in concentration. “Yes, if at all possible, he should be a soldier, or at least retired from the army, so he would have the military distinctions: Discipline… Duty… Courage… Honor… Love of King and Country.”

“No doubt,” I said sarcastically, “he would also be very humble.”

“Yes! Yes!” Daniel shouted with delight. “He would tell you that modesty is first among his many virtues.”

“And where, pray tell, am I to find this paragon?” My irritation grew by the second.

He shrugged airily, “Perhaps he will fall into your lap someday.”

Angry that he had once again goaded me, I shouted over my shoulder, “And perhaps he’ll find my boot applied to his arse!”

Turning back to face a carriage of goggle-eyed matrons staring at me, I bowed deeply to them in apology for my vulgarity and urged my Arabian into a canter back to Hanover Square as Daniel’s raucous laughter again rang after me.

 

[Craiger]

Another charming and intriguing chapter, BD. William doth protest too much, however, he does have to be cautious of Daniel and his charm. Not forgetting the community and gossip that could be his downfall. I wait for the next installment.

Craiger

 

[BluesDog]

Chapter 5

The evening after the ride in Hyde Park was rather tense at Hanover Square. I knew that I had reacted with excessive ardor to Daniel’s flirtatious teasing, and I suspected that he was fully aware that he had tweaked me on a somewhat sensitive subject, but as is often the case, neither of us could find that spark of grace within himself to apologize. As a result, the supper of cold chicken and early peas was passed in silence.

Afterwards, we withdrew to the library, where I completed my note on the historic range of the English Oak in the British Isles for the Royal Society while Daniel read by the hearth. For some time the only sounds were the crackling of the burning logs and the scratching of my quill. As the bells of St. George’s chimed ten times, Daniel sighed, saying, “If you will forgive me, William, I shall retire early.”

I nodded, without looking up from my papers, “Good night, sir.”

Without realizing it, I listened to his quick steps up his bed chamber on the third floor. With a deep sigh myself, I shook my head at the foolishness of longing for the touch of a man who had abused me so shamelessly. The essay again took my attention long enough to read it through one last time. It was a rather pleasing piece of research on a topic of a botanical nature, my only regret being that it would be submitted to a committee headed by that idiot, Dr. Hall, for approval. In the unlikely event that he had any objections to the material, I was confident that I could respond, but finding myself in a position where he would be judge and arbiter of my work was unpleasing in any event.

Finally retiring for the night myself, I fell into an easy sleep that was thankfully free of the erotic dreams that had plagued me since the arrival of my guest.

The next morning, Joseph met me in the stair hall with the news that Daniel was already out of the house and planned to spend the day with my Savile Row tailor and would later dine with some officers of his former regiment. The twinge of disappointment I felt puzzled me since I had so little inclination to subject myself to his company. “These fourteen years have proven him to be no friend of yours,” I muttered to myself, “so do not fall under the dominion of his allure.”

Besides my tea, the table held the morning post and a copy of the Gazette and Crier. As I ate, I paged idly through the newspaper, finding little of interest in its smudged pages beyond a few lines stating that the Prince Regent would race a horse at the track in Epsom next month. Among the letters were two or three addressed to Daniel that appeared to be invitations, so those were put aside for him to peruse.

In the library I opened a packet from my book sellers to find a volume of new poems by Lord Byron. I had just started scrutinizing it when the bell at the front door peeled. Shortly, Joseph entered the library to announce, “Lady Stratton and the Dowager Countess of Benton, sir.”

I smiled as I said in a voice intended to carry into the hall, “Tell them I am out. Or even better, tell them that I have gone abroad.”

An imperious roar came back, “We hear you, naughty scamp; admit us at once.

My Aunt Augusta swept in, preceded by her prodigious bosom and followed by Caroline, by virtue of her marriage to my cousin, the Countess of Stratton

Caroline entered with her head tilted just so in order to show off her bonnet. Her bright smile faded as she looked around the roomf, saying, “Oh, it’s just you.”

As I lifted my aunt’s fingers to kiss, she brushed my hand aside to grab the lapel of my jade-green silk waistcoat, instructing, “Blondes should never wear that colour, William. It makes your skin look as sallow as an old cheese.”

“How fortuitous that I have found new ways to disappoint my family,” I laughed.

“Silly boy!” exclaimed Aunt Augusta, lifting her face to be kissed. I had to duck under the extravagant blue and silver turban she was wearing to reach her cheek. “We see you all the time, but we were hoping to meet your heroic guest.”

“I regret that he is out for the day.”

“Oh, what a vexation!” said Caroline. Though her beauty had faded, she was still a handsome woman, and her sprigged muslin gown with a short jacket of pink velvet was rather becoming. “I so wanted to invite him personally to the ball tonight. Do you know if he is engaged this evening?”

“I do not believe he is, so I will accept on his behalf and send a note to you if I find otherwise.”

“I am most relieved, William. Thank you,”

“Will you take tea?” I asked.

“Certainly!” my aunt snapped as though it were rude to inquire. “But not in this room.” She looked around my library dubiously. “This is entirely too masculine. If I spend any time in here I shall sprout a full set of whiskers.” She turned to Joseph who was still hovering nearby. “We shall take tea in the Chinese Drawing Room.”

“Right away, m’lady!” exclaimed Joseph as he bowed deeply and scurried away. With me, Joseph was filled with the fiery spirit of the revolutions in North America and in France. With my Aunt Augusta he was all but tugging his forelock and groveling on the floor to kiss the hem of her dress. She has that effect on people.

We trooped up the stairs to the drawing rooms on the next floor, passing first into the Green Room, the larger of the two, overlooking Hanover Square, just as the library on the first floor and my bed chamber on the third do. The room had been decorated in a style popularized by the Prince Regent, green and grey striped silk hanging on the walls, and the furniture designed in what was popularly imagined to be a Greek fashion. Aunt August remarked almost at once a new painting above the mantle.

“What is this?” she demanded. “Is it modern?”

“Yes, that is by an artist by the name of Turner, J.M.W.Turner,” I said.” Do you like it?”

“What is it supposed to portray?”

“A ship at sunset.”

“Hmph!” she grunted. “All I see are blobs of orange and red paint.” She turned to Caroline, “Do you find it appealing?”

She said rather diplomatically, “William’s tastes are always in the vanguard. Our walls are so filled with real paintings from the old masters that we simply don’t have room for newer pieces.”

“In my day a painting of a bowl of fruit looked like a bowl of fruit. Now, just dibbles and dabbles of paint, and everything looks unfinished. Both Romney and Gainesborough painted me in the year I was presented at Court, and the paintings looked like me. I shudder to think what I would become at the hands of this Turnidge fellow. Just splots of green and red, I fear. Well, it’s your house, so chacun á son goût.”

We passed into the smaller of the two rooms, called the Chinese Drawing Room for the walls covered in coral silk painted with a fantasy of great branches of peach trees that improbably had the blooms, the leaves and the fruits all at the same time, as well as monkeys with almost human faces gamboling about. The furniture was Louis XV chinoiserie, fantastically carved and gilded, another part of my Grandmother’s bequest.

The maid, Mary Anne, came in with the tea and set it out on the little table adjacent to Aunt Augusta. I was relieved to see that Joseph had selected good, plain English Spode porcelain and not the famille verte that might have sparked a scolding about my luxuriant lifestyle.

“Aunt Augusta, will you take one of these biscuits?” I asked. “They are quite delicious and would not sit as heavily as cake.”

“I shall indulge in just one or two,” she replied. “We are calling on Lady Russell next, and I fear that the rumors that her cook gave notice are all too true. The collation offered there will be very poor indeed.”

Mary Anne poured the dark tea into the cups before handing them to my family and then passed the biscuits before leaving the room.

Aunt Augusta complained, “William, you really do have the most curious servants. That maid stared at me as boldly as if we were equals! You must impose discipline and order on them. An occasional caning may be needed.”

“Perhaps I should install one of those grates in the garden that the Royal Navy uses and have them lashed with a cat-o-nine-tails,” I offered.

“Impertinent!” my aunt exclaimed.

In order to change the subject, Caroline inquired, “What is the book you are reading?” She nodded at the volume I had brought upstairs without realizing.

My face grow warm as I confessed, “The new poems of Lord Byron. It just came today from the book sellers.”

“Oh, that rogue!” cried Aunt Augusta. “He is a scandal and an affront to his unfortunate family.” She nibbled a biscuit. “One hears the most outrageous comments about him. I blush in shame to even hear his name mentioned!”
The delight sparkling in her eyes and the upturn at the corners of her mouth proclaimed the falsehood of that statement.

“And you read his books, William?” asked Caroline, eyeing the offending tome on the little table avidly. “I shouldn’t dare!”

I cautiously admitted, “Some of them. His writing is quite fresh and new. He is taking verse in a new direction, I believe.”

“More modern rubbish,” proclaimed Aunt Augusta, “Have you met him?”

“No. He was pointed out to me as he arrived at White’s one evening last year just as I departed, but no one was there to make the introduction,”

“Now you shall be spared that embarrassment,” added Aunt Augusta. “I have it on good authority that he left for the Continent last month and vowed never to return to England.”

“Perhaps I shall go abroad myself to seek him out,” I grinned at her.

“Oh, you mischievous scoundrel! That is just the sort of horrid behavior that makes your family despair of you. Your brother is quite right about you, I think.”

“Indeed? What defect in my character has Charles uncovered now?”

“He thinks that it was a mistake for you to invite the man to stay here.”

Startled I asked, “Colonel Moore? Why?”

“He recalls that when you were in school together that he had a very malign influence on you and that his presence here may lead to further corruption.”

Drily I responded, “I suspect that at one and thirty years of age that I have been exposed to all the corruption the world has to offer, but I am intrigued that Charles seems to know of further depths I can explore.”

“Your brother is the very model of probity and morality. You would do very well to imitate him as far as you are able. She scolded, “The sooner we find you a suitable wife, the better. You have sown quite enough wild oats.”

To dissuade her from further discourse on that topic, I asked, “What is the latest news from Society?”

They exchanged excited glances. “ Have you heard about Miss Wentworth?”

Their faces fell as I said, “I heard several times yesterday in the park that she had broken off her engagement with Lard Garsington. Has anyone heard a reason why she undertook such a drastic step?”

“No,” sighed Aunt Augusta. “Everyone has been very closed-mouthed about it.”

“Everyone talks about it, but no one has any news,” lamented Caroline.

My aunt looked at me with wide eyes, “You don’t think that she would…” She trailed off, then shivered, saying, “No it would be unthinkable.”

“What?” demanded Caroline and I at the same time.

She dropped her voice to a whisper, and asked my cousin “You don’t think that she would come to your ball tonight, would she?”

The color drained from Caroline’s face. “I would hope that she has better manners than that!” She waved her fan furiously in front of her face. “Lord Garsington will be there, and as soon as she arrived, wouldn’t people start to leave?”

“Oh, certainly! She has no family to speak of! All she has to recommend herself is her money. Who could support her in the matter of snubbing a peer so openly?”

I groaned inwardly at such foolishness, but commented in an even voice, “Her wealth has opened a number of doors so far.”

“William,” wailed Caroline. “That is not helping.”

“Who would know her intentions?” cried Aunt Augusta. “She is very close to Mrs. Cartman, is she not? Might she have some idea?” They began gathering their reticules and gloves. “Thank you for the tea, William, but we must go.”

Kissing them, I promised, “I will send a note regarding Colonel Moore’s acceptance of your invitation.”

They more or less ignored me as they clattered down the stairs and into their carriage, chattering excitedly all the way.

At the door, I handed Daniel’s invitation to Joseph and instructed, “This is for this evening. I accepted for him, but will send Lady Stratton his regrets if he prefers.”

I closed myself in the library, grateful for the silence that descended on the house in the wake of my family’s departure, but then called Joseph back to give him the essay to post to the Royal Society, grateful that he was still too much under the influence of Aunt Augusta to do more than mutter a token complaint about the extra work.

I heard Daniel return some time later. His boots boomed across the stairway hall, and I thought that he paused before the library door for a moment before he ascended to his chamber. The mixture of relief and regret that I felt at not seeing him was becoming familiar to me.

———————————————————

When I came down to leave for the Stratton ball, Daniel was already by the door, fiddling nervously with his gloves. He looked quite splendid in his evening attire, cream-colored pantaloons stuffed into gleaming black Hessian boots, and a superbly-tailored black coat. However, he wore a most usual waistcoat of scarlet wool trimmed with gilded buttons that was reminiscent of a military tunic, and the cravat flowing loosely from his high white collar was striped with his regimental colors. My breath was caught in my chest as I descended the stairs contemplating how handsome he is.

When I was halfway down the stairs, Daniel’s dark eyes turned to me, and his full lips curved into a warm smile as he exclaimed, “Will, how I have missed seeing you today! And how magnificent you look. I fear that many a Society heart is destined to break this evening.”

“Any broken hearts, Daniel, will be debited to your account, I assure you. What a ravishing waistcoat.”

He grinned proudly, “Your tailor helped me with this today. Turned out rather well, I daresay.”

“Every veteran of the British army will be clamoring for one tomorrow.” Joseph held the door open for us. “Ah! The carriage is here.”

We rumbled into the traffic of the Mayfair evening just as the bells at St. George’s sounded seven times.

I stared out the windows of the hack without seeing anything in the gloomy dusk, thinking that I would not be able to withstand the onslaught of Daniel’s charm much longer. He had broken my heart once before, splintered it so badly that in my anguish I had not thought I would be capable of loving anyone again, yet here I was again on the cusp of surrendering to him, no doubt with the same wretched outcome. I knew that I could not survive another such loss. I clinched my jaw, determined to resist any weakening of my resolve.

“William,” Daniel said softly from the seat opposite me.

“Hmm?” I murmured, only half listening, lost in my reverie.

“I didn’t come to London to quarrel with you. I am sorry that my teasing has vexed you so.”

“What?” I asked, startled that he had so perfectly read my thoughts.

“I missed you the long years that we were apart, but I have missed my old friend more these few days that we have been together and out of sorts with one another.” His eyes were fixed intently on me. “Can we not restore those bonds of friendship once again?”

I broke off eye contact with him and again watched the passing carriages. After a long silence, I said with much emotion, “You caused me great pain. I am not sure that what we lost can be recovered.”

“I most heartily regret exasperating you with my feeble jokes. Can we not move past my foolishness?”

My tongue was thick in my mouth, and my throat felt closed and blocked. “Not the teasing,” I managed to choke out. “Before.” I looked at him again, at his handsome brow furrowed with concentration.

“Before? When?” he asked, running a hand through his thick, dark curls.

“After you left for the army… while I was preparing for Oxford.”

“Yes? I remember that time.” A glimmer of understanding appeared on his face.

I took another deep breath, not wanting to give voice to the crimes I had committed that summer, but compelled to say it, leaning forward so that I could whisper out of hearing of the hack driver, “I needed you, Daniel. After what I had done, I needed you as my friend and I needed you as my lover.”
I was so close to him that his warm breath caressed my neck. I leaned back in the seat and said, “All I received from you was cold silence.” The hack lurched to a halt. “You abandoned me when I looked for you most.

Something that looked very much like relief flooded his face. “Oh, dearest William! Nothing could be easier to explain.”

The hack driver jerked open the door, barking, “Stratton House, gentlemen.”

I jumped to the pavement, desperate to escape the atmosphere in the carriage, paying the driver as Daniel clambered down behind me, saying, “Please! Let me explain.”

I joined the crush of people sweeping into my cousins’ townhouse, saying over my shoulder, “Later. We’ll talk back at Hanover Square.”

Mounting the broad curve of the staircase to the ballroom on the second floor, I though sadly that I had always thought that once I confronted Daniel about his silence since that summer, I would feel a respite from the pain, but all I felt now was more desolate and more alone.

 

[BluesDog]

In case you are interested, this is how I see the main characters.

Daniel


William

 

[Craiger]

Why didn't I live back in those grand days???? Both William and Daniel are extremely handsome and my hope is that William will not regret his unapproachable ways. I look forward to Daniel's explanation. A delightful chapter, BD.

Craiger

 

[BluesDog]

Thank you, Craiger, for your kind words. William is a bit of a problem for me since I have done a poor job of conveying the depth of his anguish. Plus he resists all of my efforts to butch him up a bit by nattering on about porcelain patterns and silk waistcoats. He is rather too old to ship off to a military academy until he is over this phase, so we just have to put up with him for a few more chapters.

 

[Craiger]

I think he is fine. Being in the class status he is, you expect him to have the porcelain and silk waistcoats around him. Besides, the male fashion of that time was fantastic. Also, being a time when male sexuality was forbidden one had to be extremely careful of who and where meetings could occur. How boring his brother must be...
Alas, I will be away for a week, so I will look forward to coming back and hearing Daniel's reasoning.

Craiger

 

[Craiger]

I'm looking forward to the next installment, BD.

Craiger

 

[BluesDog]

Thanks for the kind words. I vacationed in Europe for ten days, and now I've been distracted by the hockey story, but I'm back in 1816-mode now and should have a new installment by the end of the week.

 

[Craiger]

I hope you had a great vacation in Europe. I'm sure you were able to glean some of that ancient history to add to "The Bed of Crimson Joy." Looking forward to reading about it.

Craiger

 

[BluesDog]

Chapter 6

At the top of the stairs, my cousins were receiving their guests in an elegant antechamber. Stratton had grown quite stout lately, and his face was almost the color of the port wine he was so fond of.

“William!” he bellowed as I drew near. “I haven’t seen you these many weeks. Have ye been in town?”

I made a shallow bow to him. “Yes, but I’ve been avoiding the card tables at White’s for fear that you would fleece me of my ready cash and then go after all my property.”

He roared with laughter. “And I would, you know. You’re a sharp card player, but I’ve the skills to better you.” He waved a hand at his wife, Caroline. “See you can cheer my lady up. She’s been in a most aggravated snit all day.”

I gave her a sympathetic smile. “She is the hostess of one of the Season’s most incandescent soirées,” I murmured. “That would be enough to aggrieve even the most hardened of Society matrons.” Caroline was very agitated, her eyes darting about. I leaned close to whisper to her, “I fear that there has not been a satisfactory resolution to the question about Miss Wentworth’s attendance.”

She fidgeted with her fan, replying in a very low voice, “No, indeed there has been no word from that quarter all afternoon! I came very near to being quite rude and sending a note insisting that she decline.”

I raised an eyebrow. “But you thought better, of course.”

“Certainly!” she gasped. “But I pray she does not come.”

I bowed to her, “And I add my prayers to yours,” I said as I pulled a handkerchief of fine Indian muslin from my pocket to mop my brow.

“Are you feeling quite alright, William?” she asked. “You look rather a bit green.”

“Yes,” I reassured her, although I was feeling quite weak and queasy. “The crowd is somewhat close. Congratulations on a successful evening. It looks like one that will be recalled with envy by hostesses for many a year to come”

She patted my arm. “Do take care of yourself, William. The Earl is a few rashers of bacon away from a stroke, and I have plans for you to amuse me in my widowhood.”

“You minx!” Stratton barked, making her yelp with a pinch on the cheek. “You shall never leave my side.” To me he added, “I have left instructions that my dear Caroline be entombed with me. I can’t bear being apart from her.” He grinned broadly.

Caroline begged, “Please, William, intervene with the solicitor! This scheme sounds all too plausible for him.”

Nodding cordially to Stratton, “Cousin, with that I take my leave,” I moved into the ballroom.

“Send a footman to find me if you go into the card rooms,” he called. “Have a bit of the Madeira wine. We breached the last of the ’68. Tip-top!”

The ballroom was packed with couples dancing to the music from a small orchestra. My eyes automatically searched for Daniel. Because we were the two tallest men in the room, I easily found him among the dancers, his assured and confident movement through the figures of the reel looking for all the world like a wolf pacing around the hen house. I wondered what possible explanation he could offer for his behavior and thought about drawing him away to hear it here at Stratton House rather than waiting until later. My thoughts were interrupted by the unwelcome approach of Lord Richard Morris. I had not seen him since our encounter in Hyde Park a few days ago.

“Sir William,” he said coldly, a false smile that did not reach his eyes, pulling his waxy lips away from his large teeth,

“My lord.” I made a slight bow.

“Have you met my protégé, Lt. Sheridan Hunter?” He waved in the general direction of the dance floor. “He is there dancing with Lydia Thompson.”

The young man he pointed out really was rather dashing, with dark curly hair that he kept pushing back from his face and a quite engaging manner. What he was doing with Richard was a matter worth speculation, but then I had my own unfortunate history with the Viscount.

“I haven’t had the pleasure.”

He leaned close to whisper, “I assure you, he is a pleasure, and I had my pleasure of him twice this afternoon.”

I moved away from him as much to avoid his foul breath as distance myself from his crude repartée

He leaned again close to whisper, “I see that your new plaything has also taken to the floor. How it must gall you to stand here abandoned while he glitters through the dancing throng.”

My eyebrows arched as I asked, “Are you referring to my guest, Col. Moore?” He nodded with a nasty look on his face. “I have no claims on his time here or in any other location.”

“Sources have told me otherwise. I hear that you are quite enamored of him, and burn with unrequited lust.” The loathsome man searched my eyes intently.

I laughed, “Really, my lord, I am surprised that you listened to such silly gossip. One does hear the most outrageous things these days. I heard something in a similar vein about you, but I ignored it as baseless rumour,”

“Why? What did you hear?”

I moved very close to pull him into my confidence. “I myself was told only today that I find you a repulsive and distasteful creature and that I would rather remain chastely celibate until the Final Judgement than be subjected to your attentions ever again.”

His face crumpled as though I had slapped him, then twisted in a convulsion of rage. “I can ruin you at any time I choose, you vile guttersnipe. One word from me would have Society turn its back on you,” he hissed. “You would not be received again in any decent house in England.”

“Indeed?” I mocked. “I wonder at what this ‘one word’ could be since any reference to the vice that I blush to recall that we indulged in together would inevitably blacken your name as well, would it not?” I looked over his head at the dancing couples but no longer saw Daniel among them. “You certainly do not have an incriminating letter since I sent no correspondence to you beyond the polite and correctly-phrased missives required by social niceties.”

I studied his angry face. “Perhaps you imagine yourself in possession of some token of affection that I may have bestowed upon you in a moment of tender feelings?” I shook my head. “I think not since there were no such moments,” I paused before plunging the dagger, “at least not on my part.”

What little color the Viscount’s face held drained from it. I continued, “Furthermore, my Lord, your reference to my supposed origins as a ruffian of the gutters is laughable.” With a wave of my hand I indicated the exquisite room we were in and its splendid furnishings. “This is my family’s home. I was born in this very house. If you think that you alone have powerful friends and aristocratic connections, I assure you that you do not have a monopoly on those commodities. I would urge you to ponder with caution, sir, which of us your threatened campaign of slander would tarnish worse.”

Lord Morris was livid with rage, but for once had no snide response.

I made a curt bow. “Now if you will excuse me, sir, I see some gentlemen from the Royal Society have arrived, and I must speak with them.”

My encounter with that dreadful man left me feeling even more light-headed, but I made my way to my colleagues without my legs buckling. I made a shallow bow.

“Sir William!” one of them exclaimed with a warm smile that edged towards being a broad grin. “We were in receipt of your essay this afternoon on the distribution of the English Oak in historic times. Excellent work!”

“Most impressive.”

I bowed again. “You are very kind.”

“Nonsense! We were passing the pages back and forth and chattering with delight.”

“Such a forceful argument expressed in such elegant and felicitous phrases will certainly be the talk of the colloquium next month.”

I exclaimed, “You think it could be printed so quickly? Are there so few amendments to be made?” I was glowing with pleasure at their praise.

They flushed a little at my questions. “Ah, perhaps our enthusiasm for your work has made us rather impetuous,” one cautioned, adding quickly, “We are in complete agreement, I think, that your essay needs no meddling on our part.” His colleague nodded his assent. “But the chairman of the Publication Committee has not yet perused your work, and he will have final say in the matter.”

“Yes,” I groaned. “Dr. Hall.” Without a doubt the most accomplished moron in London, he had slipped my mind for a moment.

“Dr. Hall has such fine sensibilities that he often discerns error where others find no fault.”

I nodded silently, thinking If you mean that he invents points of grammar and rules of rhetoric to criticize the product of a mind superior to his own, I agree.

He hastened to add, “Of course, I do not call into question his ability or his qualifications.”

I concurred, “Nor do I. I hesitate to usurp that right from the survivors of his unhappy patients.”

They both stared at me with surprise, then roared with laughter.

“Rather droll!”

“Oh, I must remember that. Well done, Sir William.”

They continued to chat about news from the Royal Society while I listened politely, dabbing my face from time to time with my handkerchief and regretting the few sips I had of my cousin’s Madeira, now lying heavily in my stomach.

The noise if the room dropped suddenly as the majordomo announced, “Miss Amanda Wentworth.”

Poor Caroline. I thought. She so wanted to avoid this.

Miss Wentworth paused at the door, looking around the room with her chin held high. I had to give her all the credit in the world for her courage, but that would do little to save her on this evening. A pretty woman of some nineteen years, her plump cheeks held high spots of color. Chestnut curls piled on her head were complemented by a handsome, high-waisted gown of brown velvet and an impressive topaz necklace. She moved across the ballroom with fluid grace, nodding to her acquaintances. Her efforts were rebuffed by either a tiny, cool nod of the head from those disposed to support her or an outright snub from those inclined to condemn her. By the time she reached an empty seat between the French doors leading to the terrace, the snubs outnumbered the nods by twenty to one. She sat and smiled very sweetly at no one in particular while the guests who had been sitting near her hastened away. The only sound in the room was the spirited sawing of the fiddles in the orchestra. Even the dancers had halted to watch the slow strangulation of Miss Wentworth. Gradually they regained the figures of the dance and the level of conversation returned to his former levels.

The two gentlemen looked at me with some dismay, their scientific training offering little preparation for negotiating the intricacies of emotional social convention. I excused myself to make my way to Miss Wentworth’s seat.

“Miss Wentworth,” I bowed.

She nodded, “Sir William,” with a stiff smile.

“Is this seat spoken for?”

“I believe that is reserved for one of my new companions, Censure or Opprobrium,”

Her grace was truly admirable. I chuckled, “Until they arrive, may join you?” She gestured her consent, and I sank gratefully into the spindly little chair, feeling rather dizzy. “Did no one chaperone you this evening?”

She hesitated before admitting, “My father is in Liverpool on business and my step-mother took exception to my attending tonight and refused to come.” Only the rapid beating of her fan betrayed her high emotion. “Are you not afraid of being tainted yourself, Sir William, by being seen as too kindly partial to me?”

I smiled gently, “Miss Wentworth it is rather unfortunate but not any less true for being unfair, that a bachelor with a not unpleasing countenance, a guaranteed income, the sense to moderate his vices and a bloodline that arouses no objection will not be cast from Society as long as there are ambitious mamas with unmarried daughters.” She relaxed a bit as she laughed. “Are you not dancing tonight?”

’Thank you, no,” she said shortly, then implored, “If I might impose on you for a favor?”

“Certainly, ma’am. How might I be of service?”

“If you might converse with me for a few minutes? And then stroll about the room briefly? When we arrived at the door, I could slip out without exciting too many comments.”

“My pleasure. What shall we discuss?” I inclined my head towards her.

“It surprises me to hear that you think your vices are moderate.” I raised an eyebrow at such a bold opening. She scoffed at me. “I have never heard you name in connection with any vice, which can only mean that you either have none or that you are so wicked that your vices can not be discussed in polite company.”

I shrugged. “I fear that I am neither a saint nor a candidate for debauchery. The truth is that my vices have never advanced much beyond the nursery.”

“Indeed?”

“I share all the sins of a spoiled toddler, I am embarrassed to admit, since I am given to tantrums if my dinner does not please me, I pout when I can’t stay up as late as I desire, and I am most resolute in refusing to share my toys.”

Miss Wentworth smiled, “I don’t think that your vices shame you at all. I suspect that you are quite proud of them, as are all men. It is my observation that every creature of your gender assiduously cultivates those very qualities within himself.”

“A shrewd observation. You may be correct, but you are quite hard on we males of the species.”

“My apologies if I have given offense,” she said with a smile that said quite the opposite. “But we must put aside this discussion of vice. My step-mother would be horrified that we spoke of such an inappropriate topic.”

“What topic would she find acceptable?” I queried.

“First I may make some general observations about the weather. Then you may offer some consideration of the number of dancing couples.”

“I see.”

“Now I might offer an opinion on the midnight supper to come or on what I was offered for lunch, but I must not discuss both topics.”

“Why not?” I asked, genuinely intrigued.

“It’s Just Not Done,” she stated archly. “Or I may inquire after what you have read lately, and you may relate the plot of a fashionable novel.” She sighed. “But you are so serious, I doubt that you know even the titles of Society novels let alone the plots.”

I frowned, “You may have uncovered another of my shortcomings.” I ran a finger between my cravat and my throat, feeling increasingly uncomfortable in the crush of the crowd.

“We must put aside novels then, Sir William, but I’m afraid that the only remaining topic we would have is the latest gossip, and I am even more afraid that circles us back to me.”

I again swabbed my handkerchief across my face and apologized, “I have not provided much of a distraction for you, Miss Wentworth.”

“Oh, Sir William,” she cried. “Here I have been prattling on about silly things when you are not feeling well. Can i bring you a lemon squash? Or perhaps a glass of sherry?”

Before I could respond, a handsome young buck came up to us and bowed, “Miss Wentworth.”

“My lord,” she nodded.

“Might I have the next dance?”

She stared at him in astonishment and stammered, “Sir William is not feeling well. I was just going to seek some refreshment for him.”

The arrogant pup scowled at me like he would at something he scraped off his boot after a stroll in a pasture.

“Please do dance,” I insisted gesturing her towards the floor.

He offered his arm. “He has no need of you fussing over him. Look, here comes his cousin, Lady Stratton. She will tend him.”

As they moved off towards the dance floor, Miss Wentworth gave me a truly sweet smile and mouthed, “Thank you!”

Her seat was taken by Caroline, who asked, “Is there another man in London who could have restored her reputation with a few minutes of affable conversation?”

“What?”

“You have such a sterling character and faultless manners that Lord Bullington decided that if Miss Wentworth was worthy of your attention that he had best put his horse back in the race. I am most grateful to you.” Her face clouded as a thought occurred to her. “Oh, my dear! I do hope that you did not really have any designs on her! She’s a pretty thing, but I can’t see you happy with such an insubstantial creature. Please reassure me that your hopes have not been dashed!”

“I do beg your pardon,” I said weakly.

She looked at me sharply. “William, are you feeling ill?” She placed her fingertips against my face and gasped, “You are burning hot with a fever!” She looked around the ballroom. “Where is your friend, Colonel Moore?” She gestured to draw him over.

As Daniel neared, his face creased with concern. “Lady Stratton?”

“William is ill. Would you help him down the stairs while I have the footman call his carriage?”

“Certainly!” he agreed. To me he said, “Can you stand, William? Or shall we have a footman help you?”

I mumbled, “I’m not an invalid. I can walk.” Daniel slipped a hand under my elbow to help me up, but as I stood, the room swam and I collapsed back into the chair. The last thing I remembered as my vision misted into blackness was his wide-eyed look of shock while the orchestra played a Viennese waltz.