Page 71 of Restored

“Yes. I shan’t be home for dinner, incidentally. A group of us are going on to Sharp’s.”

“Sharp’s?” Henry echoed, frowning. “Don’t you think you’re spending rather too much time in gaming hells?”

“Sharp’s isn’t a gaming hell,” Freddy scoffed. “Besides, I’m not going to play. Percy has a game arranged with someone or other, so we’re dining there, then after his game we may go on”—he waved his hand vaguely—“somewhere else.”

Henry frowned, unhappy, but said nothing. Freddy was only doing the same as any other young man of the ton, but Henry could not help but worry about the idle existence he was presently leading. Despite being born into great wealth, Henry had been expected to play an active role in managing the ducal estate and to learn what that entailed from a young age. He had never been, as Freddy seemed to be, entirely lacking in purpose.

Except,a small voice inside Henry said,he is not entirely lacking in purpose, is he? You know what hewantsto do with his life.

Henry sighed and rubbed at the tense spot between his brows.

“Is something wrong, Father? Do you have a headache?”

Henry looked up at that, and for an instant he caught a glimpse of the old Freddy in his son’s concerned gaze. The impulsive, affectionate little boy who had so often cheered Henry in his lowest moments.

“A bit of one,” he said. “I think I’ll go and have a walk. The fresh air will do me good.” He stood and, on his way past Freddy, paused to squeeze his shoulder, wishing he could embrace him the way he used to, when Freddy was little. Things had been so much easier then. “Enjoy the race,” he said, and headed for the door.

Curzon Street was located very close to Hyde Park Corner, a circumstance for which Henry had been very grateful since he arrived in town. He greatly missed Wiltshire, where it was his habit to ride or walk most days. But at least he could be in the park within a few minutes, and it was sizeable enough to provide him with some reasonable exercise.

He began a brisk circuit, enjoying the sunshine and the light breeze.

It wasn’t long before his mind circled back to thoughts of Kit and their last encounter. Their extraordinary, unforgettable last encounter. Remembering what they’d done together made his cock harden with lust even as a wary anxiety churned in his gut that he’d shared too much, made himself too naked, too vulnerable.

But when he was with Kit, it almost felt as though the last eighteen years hadn’t happened. As much as he had changed, at heart Kit seemed to Henry to be fundamentally unaltered. He was the same kind-hearted, perceptive man that Henry had known all those years ago. A little harder, yes. A little more suspicious, certainly. But incredibly, neither bitter nor vengeful.

And that last night together, he had given Henry something that Henry hadn’t even known he wanted, no,needed. In mastering Henry, Kit had given him pleasure like he’d never known, and brought him peace that he’d never dreamed of.

There was no one else in the world Henry would have trusted to ask for such a thing.

As Henry walked, his mind poked carefully at that thought.

Henry might feel unsure and wary now, but when he’d been with Kit, he’d had no such concerns. He’d trusted him, despite everything that had happened.

Was he a fool to believe that Kit would not wantonly hurt him? When he had done so much, albeit unintentionally, to hurt Kit?

Ah, but the past was a battlefield of old hurts. When he thought back all those years ago to when Caroline had first asked him to give Kit up—that had broken his heart, but he hadn’t even felt entitled to acknowledge as much. He’d told himself he was selfish to grieve and buried the pain deep, letting it grow cankerous inside him, a stifled, unacknowledged sorrow.

For years he'd thought his feelings entirely one-sided. But Kit had disabused him of that.

“When you left me, it felt as though my whole world had broken in two.”

He wasn't sure if that made matters better or worse—certainly right now it was making his chest ache and his stomach churn.

The wind was getting up. Henry put down his head and walked stoically on. He thought of Kit’s bleak expression as he’d listened to Henry’s confession about what he'd written in his letter.

“Itold you… how very much I cared for you…”

Cared for you.

Such mealy-mouthed words—all these years and he was still limiting himself to careful half-truths. Lying to Kit. Lying to himself.

He’dlovedKit.

All of a sudden, hot tears were pressing behind his eyes and gathering in a solid ball in his throat. He wasn’t sure why he—a man who rarely wept—felt suddenly as though he could drop to his knees and soak the earth. All he knew was that something was rising in him, feelings that he'd been pushing down, relentlessly, for too many years. Powerful emotions he had thought were spent were surging to the surface again, as though seeing Kit Redford had lit a flame under him and now everything was about to boil over.

A bird screeched overheard, making Henry glance up. He realised that he’d walked almost all the way around the park, and was now at the other corner next to Edgeware Road, barely a mile from Kit’s house.

Kit was not expecting to see Henry so soon—or for Henry to call upon him at his home. When Henry had asked to see him again, Kit had told him to return to Redford’s.