Page 77

Sam

Later that day…

Sam halted in his tracks a step inside the Bentley townhouse study. A blue and a green gaze glinted back at him.

Sam’s eyes narrowed on the man standing in the middle of the study. “I wasn’t informed anyone had arrived yet.”

A wolfish smile flashed at Sam. “I tend to avoid using the front door,” Ryker said. He examined his nails with disinterest. “It’s so…typical.” His gaze flashed up. “I prefer to be unconventional.”

Yes, no one would argue with that. “Apparently, the Jennings need to invest in better locks.”

Ryker’s smile grew. “No lock can keep me out, Thorne, or I suppose I should say, Dalreoch.”

Distaste climbed up Sam’s throat. Every time someone called him by his title, panic jolted through him. A cruel reminder of the pain of losing Felix. Unfortunately, it was all he heard lately.

Footsteps sounded behind Sam, and he turned to see the Kozington brothers striding down the hall. Well, Lord Kozington was. His brothers were wrestling with each other while they walked.

Lord Kozington swept by Sam. “I heard you failed to use the front door again, Ryker. What was it this time?”

“Bentley’s bedchamber window.” He winked at Sam, and Sam shot him a glare that threatened death. He lifted his hands. “Jesting! I was jesting!”

“Is there any food?” the twins asked at the same time.

Sam had been warned by Felicity he must keep the twins fed. They’re like small children. When they get hungry, they throw tantrums. “Yes, behind you is a spread of food.”

The twins cheered and made their way to the table of assorted biscuits, cheeses, cold meats, and breads. A few more members of The Harborage shuffled into the room.

“Dunmore,” Sam greeted with a nod.

“Dalreoch.” The marquess clapped Sam on the shoulder and winged a brow. “My most dearest of friends.”

Sam’s lips twitched. Society might find the Marquess arrogant and rude, but Sam enjoyed the man’s sarcasm and insouciance. He supposed because he recognized the shield; he wore that one too, just with charm instead of scorn.

Dunmore indicated to the two gentlemen behind him with a cant of his head. “This is the Marquess of Rutledge. I didn’t have a chance to introduce you last night because he disappeared with his wife.”

A man with wild curly brown hair and an imperious expression stepped up beside Dunmore, though his haughtiness was slightly ruined by the blush tinting his cheeks.

“I don’t think that last detail was necessary,” the man muttered to his friend before turning to Sam.

“It’s nice to meet you, Dalreoch. Any friend of the Bentleys is a friend of ours. ”

A snort came from Ryker, who was now sprawled lazily in a chair, one leg thrown over the arm. “Friend? That’s an interesting way to phrase it.”

The marquess’s brows drew together, a question in his brown eyes. One Sam would be answering soon enough.

A man who matched Sam in height and breadth limped up to Dunmore’s side. “And this is Ironcrest. He doesn’t frequent balls. Especially not now that he’s married.”

“Dalreoch,” the man said, more grunt than word.

Sam bowed politely. “Your Grace.” His gaze lingered on the sharp scar cutting down the man’s face, the dark, unreadable eyes, and surly set of his mouth.

He could see that this man wouldn’t be one for the frivolity of the ton.

Sam couldn’t help but wonder what sort of woman had the mettle to marry a man like that.

At that moment, Ash came striding into the room. He glanced around. “Everyone’s here? Excellent. We don’t have much time before Bentley returns, so we should get started.”

Sam made his way to Felix’s desk and leaned against the front of it, facing the group gathered in the study.

He gripped the edge of the desk to prevent himself from fidgeting, but it didn’t stop the way his stomach was flipping over.

A few people in this room already knew of his friendship with Felix.

And they were aware of his need for support in bolstering his reputation in society.

But no one besides Ash knew the true reason why.

“Thank you all for coming,” Sam started.

“Oh!” Ryker interrupted. “I didn’t know it was that kind of gathering. I love a good orgy.”

Kozington smacked him across the back of the head, while Dunmore sniggered.

Sam just kept speaking over them, though his stomach settled at the small jest. “A few in this room are aware of my past…and the nature of my relationship with Lord Bentley.”

Silence settled over the room, and all eyes locked on Sam. He cleared his throat, all moisture in his mouth having decided to go on holiday. A glass of whisky appeared before him, and he took it gratefully from Ash. He threw back a sip, let the burn fuel him. Here went nothing.

“Two decades ago, I was convicted of sodomy and set to hang.”

A curse fled Lord Kozington, and Ryker snapped straight in his chair, eyes glinting dangerously. It was the most serious Sam had ever seen the man.

“Who?” he growled. “I can make them disappear. I’ll do it personally.”

Sam smiled sadly. “They’re already dead,” he murmured. “My parents.”

Outraged exclamations and blasphemes erupted in the room, and an unexplainable warmth filled his chest. Not one person inquired if it was true, not one person exuded even a hint of judgment.

No one in this room cared about another person’s preference.

And it was a hard realization for Sam to wrap his head around.

“You’re still standing here,” Lord Rutledge pointed out, gaze assessing. “So, are we dealing with fugitive status, or did you manage to have the charge overturned?”

The way he said we , the way he implied they were all already committed to whatever Sam needed, spoke volumes of what Felix had created here with The Harborage. It had Sam lost for words.

“I broke him out,” Ash stepped in, all attention falling to him. “He had lived with me as my valet under an assumed name until…”

“Until he inherited,” the Marquess of Dunmore said, rubbing his chin.

“Not quite,” Sam said quietly. “For a short while, I took on a new valet position.”

“He was Bentley’s stallion!” one of the Kozington twins yelled out through a mouthful of bread.

Confused looks passed over a few members of the group while Ryker cackled.

“Stallion?” Dunmore asked aloud. “As in a kept man?” His eyes widened.

“Oh.” His tone deepened. “ Ohhh .” He pursed his lips.

“Well, that explains why Bentley looked like he wanted to murder Lady Camoys last night. And explains why she’s been panting after him all these years with no luck.

” A low laugh escaped him. “Then the poor dove manages to set her sights on an unavailable option yet again with you. Bentley’s man, to boot. The irony is delicious.”

Not exactly something Sam found palatable. But sure, delicious. “Obviously, we have quite a few problems to tackle here.”

“They’re nothing,” Ryker interrupted. “There isn’t a person in this room who wouldn’t move heaven and earth for Bentley. And that means you, too, Dalreoch. You’re one of us now. We protect what’s ours.”

Sam’s mouth worked soundlessly, once again at a complete loss for words at what had just come out of the man’s mouth. But for an altogether different reason. He swallowed thickly. He supposed he could see a bit of the man’s charm now.

“Bentley and his family have shown up for almost every person in this room. I will never be able to repay his father and mother for what they did for me when I was younger,” Kozington said to the quiet room.

“I feel much the same,” came Lord Rutledge’s deep baritone. “The Bentleys stood beside my wife when she faced scandal. I will always support their family however they need.”

Sam’s chest went light, buzzing with warmth. This must be what it was like to have a supportive family. He glanced toward Ash, whose lips were curved in a soft smile, a knowing glint in his blue gaze. See, mate? There is good in this world.

Their conversation back in Ash’s bedchamber all those months ago flitted back through Sam’s memory.

The one where he’d looked beseechingly at his friend, desperately hoping his friend would give him a reason to hold on to hope.

“Imagine what the world would be like,” he’d said.

“If there were more people like you, Ash.” And now he was in a room surrounded by them.

“I have no doubt,” Sam said gruffly, past the emotion thick in his throat, “that with the minds in this room, we can find solutions. Bentley has already come up with a plan, which some of you have already taken part in. But to be frank, it’s the wrong plan.

So, I want us to come up with a new one.

One that allows for two aristocratic men—one with a damning past, and both who will be very much in the eye of society—to be together.

And the biggest challenge in all of this will be convincing Bentley of its viability. ”

“What’s happening here?” Felix’s rich baritone silenced the room from where he stood motionless in the doorway.

Stares darted between Felix and Sam, but Felix’s was locked steadily on Sam. Unreadable.

“If you all wouldn’t mind,” Sam said. “I’d appreciate a moment alone with Bentley.”

Ash stepped forward, the Duke of Devonford taking charge. “Drawing room, men. We’ll return to finish this when they’re ready.”

The men murmured their farewells, the study emptying.

Ash sidled up to him. “You well?” he said for Sam’s ears alone.

Sam managed a nod. Even if the swarm of botflies in Sam’s stomach said otherwise.

Ash nodded, nudged Sam’s shoulder softly in encouragement, and then left to join the rest of the men.

That was the last of the group.

They were alone again.

Sam. Felix. And everything between them.