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“I cared for you too, Henry,” he said hoarsely. “When you left me, it felt as though my whole world had broken in two.” He shook his head. “But that was a lifetime ago, and we have very different lives now.” He sighed and turned away, rising from the bed and reaching for his drawers. “Speaking of which, I should get dressed and get back to the club. I’ve neglected my duties too long.”

“Kit?” Henry’s voice was hoarse.

Kit stared at the linen clutched between his hands. He couldn’t look at the other man. Didn’t want Henry to see how raw he felt.

“Yes?”

“May I come back?”

Kit squeezed his eyes closed.

“Please,” Henry said into the silence. “I don’t want this to be the end, Kit.”

And when he put it like that, neither did Kit. There was something unfinished between them. Something to be settled before he could close the door on his ill-fated affair with Henry Asquith, once and for all.

“All right,” he said. “You can come back next week.”

18

Henry

A few days later, Simon Reid called upon Henry while he was having breakfast.

“Do you have some news for me?” Henry asked, once Reid was settled at the table with some tea.

“I do,” Reid said. “I’ve looked into the situation with the solicitors in Lambeth. The rent’s been collected regularly since Parkinson’s death—I expect it’ll turn out to be an associate of Parkinson’s, perhaps a family member or friend. The senior partner of the firm is desperate to resolve the matter—he’s assured me he’ll get the bottom of it, though we may have to wait till the next rent falls due on Midsummer Day if we’re not to alert the culprit.”

Henry nodded. “What about the tenant? Have you spoken with him.”

Reid grimaced. “I have. He’s not willing to give the house up, I’m afraid. And having perused the lease, it will be several years before you are able to terminate it—unless you wish to challenge its validity in court.” Reid’s expression told Henry what he thought of that idea.

Henry shook his head. “No, I don’t want to do that. I'm willing to leave the lease in place as long as he wishes to stay—it’s been the man’s home a long time now.”

Reid looked briefly curious, then nodded. “I’ll let him know. I take it you don't need the property back now?”

Henry shrugged. “Kit will have none of it,” he said. “I wanted to make good my debt to him but he will not accept any compensation. Nevertheless, the house needs to be taken care of and the rent collected, so I’d be grateful if you would take over its management. And my other city properties, if you are willing.”

Reid smiled, plainly pleased with this development. “Very willing, your grace,” he said, toasting Henry with his coffee cup.

They talked for a while longer, then Reid took his leave.

Only a short while later, the door opened again. It was Freddy this time, and once again he was looking very much the worse for wear.

Henry watched silently as Freddy made himself up a breakfast plate and sat himself down at the table.

He’d always been the most energetic of Henry’s children. Unlike his older brother, and to the despair of his tutors, he hadn’t shown the least bit of academic prowess. However, in every physical skill, he excelled. He was a neck-or-nothing rider, a fearless swimmer, an intrepid climber. Henry had long ago resigned himself to unmitigated worry that Freddy might suffer some injury on one of his escapades. He had not, however, foreseen the worries that this new Freddy—the fashionable young man about town—would bring. His enjoyment of prizefighting and racing were entirely unsurprising and of no great concern. But the heavy drinking, and gambling were rather more worrying.

Henry watched in silence as Freddy attempted to eat his breakfast. He soon abandoned the effort, setting down his cutlery and seeking sanctuary in his tea cup.

“Were you out last night?” Henry asked at last, though it was obvious he had been.

Freddy nodded. “A few of us made up a party at Vauxhall Gardens.”

“I’m surprised you’re up so early, then.”

“I’d have stayed in bed, but Fenchurch and Grantham are racing today,” Freddy said. “We’re going to watch.”

“We being you and Bartlett?” Henry asked.