Page 43 of To Tempt a Troubled Earl
“Kit,” he breathed, and his eyes filled with tears. “My dear Kit.” He brought a hand up to Kit’s face and traced a finger along the line of his lips. “Thank God. I was so scared I’d lost you.”
Kit’s voice was husky with sleep, his mouth dry. Even talking pained his ribs. “Not that easily.”
“Are you…do you…do you feel quite awful?” Lando’s beautiful eyes worriedly searched Kit’s face.
Despite feeling as if he’d been run over by the mail coach, Kit managed a small smile in return. “Not at all. How could I possibly, waking up next to you?”
A wince spoiled his gallantry as he tried to shift onto his side to face Lando.
“Shh, lie quietly.” With a gentle but insistent palm, Lando pushed him down again. “The doctor said you must rest. There is laudanum should you require it.”
Kit’s head spun enough already. “Perhaps. But not yet.” He twisted his stiff neck to the side, taking in the empty room. They were alone. Of course, because, scandalously, the eleventh Earl of Rossingley was in his bed. “You must leave through the adjoining door before the servants awake,” he whispered in as urgent a manner as his pains allowed.
“There is no need.” Lando sounded amused. “I think my fondness for you is now quite apparent to all members of my household.”
After drawing himself up, Lando reached across to the chevet where a glass of water waited. “Drink, but only a few sips until you can be sure your stomach is settled.”
With Lando’s aid, Kit found a comfortable position on his pillows, half reclining. The cool water tasted divine; if his nursemaid allowed it, he’d gulp it all down. Deeming him to have had his fill, Lando replaced the glass and took Kit’s hand in his.
“But…but…you’re in my bed,” Kit croaked. Fondness between gentlemen was all well and good, but clearly, Lando had not yet grasped the nub of the problem. “They will know what…what you are.”
Lando’s lips twitched. “Yes, I do believe that has become quite apparent, too, over the last few days. Reinforcing what they have already known for many years.”
He turned Kit’s hand over and kissed the rough palm, laughing softly. “Rest assured, Kit. I am not the first or only…ah…sodomite at Rossingley. And I daresay I won’t be the last.”
Kit’s black and blue brain felt quite muddled. “You…what? The other…earls?”
Lando laughed again as he trailed off. “Yes. One could describe my household staff asspecially curatedover several generations. We Duchamps-Averys have always prided ourselves on looking after our people, and in return, they serve us well, with utmost loyalty and discretion.”
That blow to Kit’s head must have been even worse than he’d believed. “So they know your…your…um…preferences?” He’d had a suspicion Pritchard might be aware of his lordship’s proclivities, but Kit was hard-pressed to imagine others were also privy.
“Gadzooks, yes.” Lando chuckled again. “The Duchamps-Averys are a rare breed; we manage to procreate and keep the line strong despite our naturally inverted tendencies. Not every generation, but more of my ancestors than one would expect are afflicted. My grandfather, for instance, had many a tale, by all accounts, though he did his duty and sired five children.”
Kit was puzzled. “You call it an affliction.” In brutal honesty, his head swirled so strangely, he would not be surprised to learn this whole conversation in his bed was nothing but a disconcerting and wonderful dream. Life could be damned confusing sometimes.
“Is it not?” Lando raised his eyebrows in surprise.
Blearily, Kit regarded his loveliness. “From where I’m lying? No.” He felt himself blush. Damned head injury had made him soft. “If I had the strength, I’d gather you up in my arms and cover you in kisses.”
“Then I look forward to your strength returning,” replied Lando, his smile widening.
“It’s… How the blazes did I get here, Lando?”
“You took a heavy blow to the head.”
“That part I’m very aware of.” Kit dabbed around the edge of his dressing. “Several, I’d wager.”
“You were mugged. Jasper fought off your attackers, then brought you back here.”
If his brain hadn’t felt ready to fall out of his skull, Kit might have queried why the dickens Jasper was there in the first place. And then confess to Lando that his beating wasn’t a mugging. That a chap named Clark was on his tail. That Clark might prove a fly in the ointment ofthe plan. But, overcome with weariness, those ideas did nothing but tickle the edges of his bruised consciousness, and he yawned widely.
Lando drew himself up. “And to that end, I should leave you in peace. You need rest. Jasper will be here soon with your breakfast and to help you eat and wash.”
“I am thoroughly spoiled,” Kit replied, and then, a little needily, “Are you going?”
“I must.” Lando placed a firm kiss on his bare shoulder. “You need some breakfast and then more rest. Though I will return to see how you are faring later. My brother awaits.”
“Brother?” Kit’s fuzzy mind wasn’t sure if it recalled a brother.
