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CHAPTER EIGHT

Percy

“I do not understand why I must attend.” Henry glared.

“Because you received an invitation from Blackthorne Manor, and you shall attend.” I was the one who was not clear why my attendance was required.

Earls did not generally request their valets to attend them at soirées, did they?

Probably they did, but I was not in the mood to leave the house either.

I wished to be abovestairs. With Henry. Making love.

Instead, we were walking to the coach from the house.

Slowly, but steadily.

Much like Henry’s progress. In small amounts. Each day.

I was incredibly proud of how far he had come in such a short period of time. November had passed, and our first snow had been last week. It had melted, though, and so although the grounds were soggy, the stones in the walkway were dry.

Alas, my lord could not procure a single excuse not to attend Lord Blackthorne.

Or, as he was also known, John Sutherland.

Sailor.

One of the very few Black lords in England.

So why the Earl of Hartridge, also a Black man, should hesitate was quite beyond me. The two men would have much in common. Former military men. Unexpected heirs. Single men in possession of large fortunes.

Yet, Lord Blackthorne, in the two years since his arrival in the county, had not wed. Had not attended a ball. Had not, if rumors were to be believed, even courted a woman. Despite his dark skin, many women would be happy to be Lady Blackthorne.

“Harumph.”

That was all Henry said as we arrived at the carriage.

The footman assisted him in, and I took my place riding above.

The driver was a man of no words, so the trip passed in complete silence.

When we arrived, I again had nothing to do as Henry was assisted from the carriage.

A striking Black man stood near the door. His grin grew as he clearly laid eyes on Henry. He strode forward. “You are most welcome, sir, to Blackthorne Manor.”

“Yes, well.” Henry frowned.

Likely he, like myself, had not realized how young the lord was. A decade younger than Henry, if I had to guess.

Henry shook the man’s hand. “Lord Blackthorne.”

“Lord Hartridge.” John grinned. “I look forward to discussing many things with you. Would you like a glass of port? A tour of the house? Or straight to food?”

Does the lord not entertain often? Or is he merely excited to have someone so like himself?

And not just in appearance—John was never supposed to inherit.

Neither was Henry. Both had lost family members unexpectedly.

Both were from the military—although navy and infantry were different.

Perhaps a friendly —or not so friendly—rivalry?

I had so little experience with these things.

The carriage departed, the gentlemen headed inside, and I stood like a landed trout without a single notion of what to do.

“You are the earl’s valet, are you not?” A soft-spoken man with weather-beaten features approached me. Easily in his forties, he had wrinkled skin, and his blond hair had liberal gray. He stood proud, though, although shorter than myself.

“Yes, I am.”

The man smiled. “My name is Phillip. I am Lord Blackthorne’s valet. If you wish to accompany me, I will be happy to find you somewhere quiet to wait. Perhaps you would like some food while our gentlemen speak?”

Our gentlemen. Not our masters.

A very subtle distinction, but as I caught a gleam in his eye, my curiosity was piqued.

And by the time the hour of midnight was upon us and Henry was finally ready to leave, I had become good friends with Phillip.

Henry’s grin as he took his leave also lightened my heart.

As I dressed him for bed, he carried on about all the things he had discussed with John.

A wide range of topics as, apparently, both men were well-read.

John might have been just twelve when joining the navy, but his education before that had been exceptional, and he had continued his love of reading well into his time on ships.

Oh, and he ensured Phillip acquired a love of literature as well. When John first boarded the ship, Phillip had taken him under his wing. In turn, when John assumed the position of lord at Blackthorne, he had secured Phillip as his valet.

As I tucked a tipsy Henry into bed, I offered a smile. "You realize the two of them...?" I held my breath. At first, while speaking to Phillip, I had been reading between the lines. Eventually, however, we found a kinship and had shared our secrets.

“Well…” Henry scratched his nose. “Yes. I guess because they were sailors?” He squinted. “Are you coming to bed, or are you going to stand there gawping?”

“No, it is not because they are sailors. I am a sodomite, and I have never been a sailor or a soldier. I was born this way.” A radical statement to make, but this was something in which my conviction never wavered.

Nothing in my past made me other than how I was.

I preferred men. To me, this was very simple.

“You are not afraid of people knowing?”

“Of course I am.” I arched an eyebrow. “I would not be employed and potentially jailed. Sent to the gallows or to the Americas. But Phillip and John are careful. We can be careful too.”

He cleared his throat. Then smoothed the edge of his blanket with his hand. “Who said anything about us? I…”

“Yes?” What is he trying to say? “You are not still angry at me about the kiss, are you?”

He frowned. “The kiss?”

“When Mr. Bartley nearly caught us.” As if there could be any other kiss .

“What kiss?”

I stared, gobsmacked. “We kissed. In our seventeenth year. Mr. Bartley almost caught us. You left for school days later. You never came back?—”

“I came back. With Caroline.”

But you never came back for me .

“Oh.”

Something in my expression must have clued him in.

“This must sound horrible, but I do not recall a kiss. I was obsessed with academics, as you know. Father said I could attend Oxford if my academics were sufficient. I wanted away from here— although not away from you—so I focused. As you know, I met Caroline, brought her home, and the rest is…” He flailed his hand.

Then he stilled. “You cared for me? Even back then?”

“Yes.”

His gaze narrowed. “You have loved me ever since then?”

“Yes.”

He pursed his lips. “I am expected to marry.”

“Do you wish to marry?”

“Isabella needs a mother.”

“Your niece has Mrs. Fernsby, Martha, and everyone in the household to fuss over her. She will not lack for female attention should you choose not to marry. But the choice, my lord, is up to you.”

“What about when she grows up?”

“You yourself have arranged for Mrs. Fernsby, a competent former governess, to reprise that role. Isabella will be well cared for.”

Again with the furrowed brow in evident contemplation. “What about what people think?”

“About what? About you not remarrying? About Isabella’s governess?”

“About you and me.”

“Think that you have a valet? Come on. Most lords have valets. That is how society functions. Even if you were not in your…predicament, you would not be expected to dress yourself. That is simply not done. Men of your stature do not do things for themselves—even if they did while in the army.”

“But…”

“Henry, do you want a wife?” I had no sense of that from him. He was about duty and honor . Perhaps those would overcome what he really wanted for the remainder of his days.

“Not really.” Still his brow continued to furrow.

“Then do not marry. You do not have to. Shall I let you in on a secret? Earls are not required to marry. Henry, do what you want to in life. Have you not earned the right to do as you wish for once?”

“But…” His eyes still held a hit of panic. Of uncertainty.

I sighed inwardly, but showed no sign of my exasperation on the outside. “You became a rake to show Caroline and William you did not care. You joined the army to show your father you did not care. How about working out what you do care for?”

He nodded. “Isabella. I care about Isabella. And I love Crosswood Hall. I want to just live here without people telling me what to do. And—” He swallowed. “—and... well… I think I care about you too.”

At long last! “Then grasp it with both hands. Raise Isabella. Live at Crosswood. Dare to fall in love with your valet.”

“That sounds deceptively simple.” He eyed me with the same distrust he had when we were boys. When I had attempted to convince him frogs were tasty treats.

“Would you like to return to Blackthorne Estate and ask Phillip and John about how they manage to be in love as lord and valet?”

“No.” He jutted his chin out. “I am not like you. I am not that brave.”

“Then you forge your own path. We make up our own rules. We do what we want.” And perhaps this was deceptively simple . But it also felt entirely possible.

“I never realized men could fall in love with other men. I thought it was just... sexual.” He winced.

I grinned. “Sometimes it is. Sometimes you just want to bring pleasure to an earl in the bathtub. But yes, men can love. Are you brave enough to try?” Please agree. Please make the commitment to me that I have already made to you.

He squinted. “Yes, I think I am.” He shifted, attempting to straighten. “I am certain.”

“Well, that is good, especially because I love you, and you would have had to banish me forever to actually rid yourself of me.”

He raised his arm. “Please undress and join me forthwith. I do not wish to be alone as we celebrate the fact we shall be lord and valet until the end of our days.”

The lasciviousness with which he said lord and valet made it perfectly clear to me that we were to be so much more than that.

Which was perfectly acceptable to me.