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CHAPTER FOUR

Percy

Of all the states I thought I might find Henry in, aroused and hard was not one of them.

My first instinct was to pretend I did not notice.

Meeting Henry’s all-too-knowing dark-brown eyes assured me that ruse would not work. Because of his dark skin, I was unable to ascertain whether he was blushing or not.

I suspected he was.

For all his bluster, he had always been a private man.

When I learned of his upset over Caroline and Willam’s engagement, I had understood with great clarity.

Henry had brought the woman home as a potential betrothed.

She instead chose his brother. The heir. The pale-skinned brother.

My friend had been humiliated. Had fled the next day. And stayed away for fifteen long years.

After my personal encounter, when we were merely fourteen years old, I believed Henry to only be attracted to women. Until this very moment, I maintained that belief.

And perhaps he did. Becoming aroused was a natural reaction. Maybe he was thinking of women. Even of a particular woman.

As I had the thought, though, and held his gaze, my perception shifted.

Run or face this once and for all?

“How may I assist you?”

“I cannot…” He let out a long breath. “I cannot…that is to say…well, I…” He clenched his left hand.

“Um. Well. Your, uh…”

“Ignore it, Percy. Sorry.” He winced, apparently truly apologetic.

“Would you like me to, uh, step outside for a moment?” Because that was the proper thing to do.

“No.” Another sigh. “Would not do any good. I cannot get off. Stupid hand will not work for that.”

His look of disgust at his left hand pulled at my heart.

Although the appendage was uninjured, he struggled to accomplish tricky tasks with it.

Before I could speak, though, he did. “Oh, but... Ignore it. I apologize. Just wash my hair. If that would be all right. Yet another thing I cannot do for myself.”

“Certainly, my lord.” I reached for the soap but, at the last moment, hesitated. “Unless, my lord…? Would you like me to?—”

“What?” He blinked.

“Well, I could…” I gestured to his engorged member that had not, through our discussion, lessened even a bit. “You know…”

“I'm sorry, I do not understand what you mean.” He blinked. “Oh. Right. Well…”

On impulse, I stuck my hand into the water. Unerringly, I grasped his cock.

He shuddered. “Oh fuck. Oh yes.” His hissed out the last word as his eyes rolled back.

I held on tight and did for him what I had done for most of the men who had come before. There had not been too many of them over the years, but I was conversant in how to make a man feel good. Had done it to myself many times as well.

He sighed.

I rubbed my thumb over his slit.

He moaned.

I continued to hold him in my hand. Jerking him to a rhythm known only to the two of us.

His hips moved restlessly, and his left hand gripped the side of the bathtub.

Some water sloshed over the side.

Still, I continued to work him. I need you to come for me. I need to bring you pleasure. I did not give voice to the words. This was about him, not myself. How I could bring him to completion. How I could make him feel.

“Percy… I…” He stuttered as his body went rigid. He pulsed in my hand before emptying his seed into the lukewarm water. “Oh God.”

Inwardly, I grinned. Nothing like it when a man thanks God for something I’ve done . Inordinately pleased, I continued to hold him until he finally went limp. Slowly, I let him go.

And the loss hit me keenly. I had wanted to do this for twenty years.

Since that night in the stables, all those years ago.

When we had been mere boys. Young men creeping into the realm of adults.

Still na?ve. Still so young. Still so inexperienced.

I had not understood entirely then what became clear to me in later years—that I was a sodomite.

That I preferred the intimate company of men to women.

That most men, and the Church, would condemn me if my preference were to become known.

That I might hang in the public square or be shipped to the colonies if my proclivities were discovered.

For fifteen years I had been judiciously careful with whom I chose to associate. I never took chances.

Bringing Henry to climax was a huge risk. One whose ramifications I could only begin to contemplate.

Henry’s eyes slowly opened. “You are very proficient.”

Does he mean…? “Your lordship was satisfied?”

He cleared his throat. “Uh. Yes. I would say that was an enjoyable…endeavor.”

Endeavor? “You have, that is…men in the army…”

“Yes. Of course men in the army. Uh…” He squinted one eye. “Perhaps we might wash my hair. The water grows cold?—”

“I will fix that.”

Henry submerged himself, and rivulets of water went from the top of his head, along his cheek, down his neck, and combined with the water of the bath.

I longed to trace that path with my tongue.

Folly.

He gazed at me.

I assisted him out of the bathtub. This time, I snuck a peek at his impressive, yet flaccid, cock.

Oh the things I want to do to that. To you. Images flashed through my mind as I imagined the pleasure I would bring him.

Over and over and over again.

I dried him off and dressed him in his finery. Tonight, the Marstons were coming for dinner.

Henry had attempted to put off the engagement, but Mr. Fortescue held firm that the most illustrious family in the country must be accommodated. They were headed to Scotland for the winter, and so, needed to be welcomed as guests before their departure.

Why anyone would go to Scotland—north of where we were—heading into the winter was quite beyond me. Alas, I learned early on not to question the butler. Be that my father—or now Fortescue—the men usually knew best. Had the best interests of the family at heart.

Whether Henry wished it or no, he had responsibilities that simply could not be delayed any longer.

As well, Miss Blanche Marston was of prime marriageable age. Perhaps a little immature for the likes of Henry, but the young woman came across as a gentle soul. At least from the little I had seen of her.

“You look handsome, my lord. The Marstons and Thortons will arrive shortly. Do you require me to review their names and ages?—”

“I am not daft, Percy.” He held my gaze. “I can retain the name of a dozen people who will be gracing me with their presence.” He eyed his right arm. “This evening is not going to end well.”

“Cook will prepare your meal cut into small pieces. Allen will be there to assist, should you require it.”

“I want you.”

I smiled. “I know you do.”

“Percy.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“You had your hand around my cock half an hour ago.”

“Well…yes.”

“Then you can call me Henry.” With that, he grasped his cane and headed for the door.

As gracious an exit as he was capable of making.

I made my way to the kitchen to secure some food before heading back upstairs to arrange the master’s room.

The kitchen staff bustled in preparation for the big event.

Nothing so grand had been seen since the Earl’s death.

Geoffrey, not William. William and Caroline had been in mourning for the previous earl.

As avaricious as they had been, even they understood the need to wait until the mourning period was over.

Henry should have been given the same grace .

Except people for miles around knew of the estrangement.

And word of Henry’s injury had traveled just as quickly.

He needed to be seen as capable of attending to all Crosswood’s affairs.

The quickest way to put the rumors to rest was to host the most-prominent family in the country—the Marstons.

Throwing in the biggest gossip for six townships, Lady Amaryllis Thorton, was simply self-preservation.

After having put the room to rights, I settled back and put my feet up.

During my last trip to London before the earl passed, he asked me to purchase as many new works as I could.

I had procured a copy of Percy Bysshe Shelley’s Queen Mab as well as a copy of Pride and Prejudice .

His lordship had quite enjoyed Sense and Sensibility the year before.

By a lady did not provide me with the name of the authoress, but having read the first book, I was looking forward to this second one.

I was unaccustomed to this form of literature, preferring Shakespeare’s plays, but I enjoyed the challenge of reading these.

“Ridiculous.” Henry shoved the door open as he stormed into the room.

I set aside my precious book as I took him in.

His cravat was askew. His jacket was half off as he had managed to get his injured arm out. His face alternated between rage and pain.

Not a good look .

I rushed to him to assist the removal of his jacket—hoping this might alleviate some of his anger.

It did not.

Next came the cravat, vest, shoes, and pants.

Still his breathing came harsh and fast.

Is he going to faint? Is this some kind of nervous affliction? Should I call for a doctor?

“I shall be all right, Percy.” Between harsh exhalations, he managed to force the words out through gritted teeth.

“I know you will, my lord.” I headed to his closet to hang his clothes, so he might have a moment to collect himself. When I returned, his breathing was returning to normal. He shook less.

Still, I wanted to press my body to his. To reassure him physically in a way I felt incapable of with just words. Despite my love of books, words did not always come easy for me.

I assisted him into his nightclothes.

“I need to piss. Too much wine.”

Oh dear . I assisted him in locating the chamber pot and doing his business. “Are you drunk? Did you say something inappropriate?”

“I did not. I wanted to…but I restrained myself.” He pursed his lips. “I want to go to bed. I want to forget all that went on this evening. I am certain Fortescue will provide me an update on the morrow, and it will be, I am convinced, unwelcome.”

“Does this…” I cleared my throat. “Does this have something to do with Miss Marston?” Because I could not fathom what else might have him so upset.

And, despite myself, I felt his distress deep within me. In my soul. I wanted to soothe him—even if that would likely be unwelcome.

“Miss Marston. Her parents. The Thortons. The entire lot of them. I want nothing to do with society.” He gestured to his bed.

“Of course, my lord.” I yanked down the covers.

He could get into bed himself and, despite his assertion he had drunk too much, he appeared no worse for wear.

“I’ll let you sleep?—”

“I do not wish to be alone.”

“My lord?” I frowned. “If Miss Marston is not a suitable match, I’m certain?—”

He laughed derisively. “That is not what I meant. If I forgo marriage for the rest of my life, that is of no consequence. I meant…” He held my gaze.

“Oh.” This I had not anticipated. “Tonight?” In my most fervent wishes, I had hoped he might one day turn to me, but perhaps not in these circumstances.

Still, as he held the bedsheets back, I took the plunge.