Page 69 of To Defend a Damaged Duke
“If you follow that instruction to my satisfaction—and I have modest expectations—I shall return your full allowance and give you use of the rooms in Portland Street.”Before Lyndon’s next dollop of sarcasm, Benedict added, “There are conditions.”
“Of course, there are.”Lyndon’s eyes rolled.“I must dole out alms to the poor each Wednesday, join the Tuesday ladies’ sewing circle, and pay a visit to the church every morning.Twice on the sabbath.”
“No.Nothing as draconian as that.Though I’m not stopping you.I’m simply asking that, on your return to London, you restrict your club membership to Squire’s—you must rescind Bootle’s and White’s.That way, I can keep tabs on your gambling habits.Furthermore, you must use Squire’s stands to place your wagers for the same reasons.”
“Must I only fuck his chits too?”
“Actually, they’re the only ones you are prohibited from fucking, my lord,” answered Tommy smoothly.“I’m quite fond of them.”
“Oh, and you must stop using the word ‘fuck’ in my presence,” interrupted Benedict.“Especially when you dine with me and Tommy, which—again on your return to town—shall be every Thursday evening at six.It’s childish and vulgar, and Francis and Isabella will periodically join us.”
“On balance, I think I preferred father’s rules.Less prissy.Anything else?”
Benedict and Tommy exchanged a look.“No,” said Benedict.“I think that’s enough to be getting on with, don’t you?”
Halfway to the door, Lyndon paused, toying with the heavy book as if deliberating.Benedict waited.
“Indulge my curiosity, Ben,” he said at last.“How did you do it?Convince thetonyou were a scoundrel of the highest order?Word of your exploits is still reaching my ears all the way up in Norfolk.”
Benedict permitted himself a small smile.He imagined his thwarted nosy brother pacing the wooden floors of his gloomy Norfolk home, his clever brain increasingly frustrated.
“I recently discovered, since finding Tommy again, that I am not alone in my predilections.There are…ah…quite a few of us knocking around.”Unbidden, a picture of his dear Beatrice, strolling through the walled garden only a few hours earlier, arm in arm with Mrs de Villiers filled his mind.
“Some have been under our noses all along, if only one knew where to look,” he added.Rossingley’s slight frame flitted across his vision, but as he’d been when Benedict was a boy—a bright, dazzling bolt of colour in his stuffy, dreary boyhood.
“And the funny thing is,” Benedict continued, his gaze never wavering from his beloved Tommy, “despite our differences, we are allies.Which is a roundabout way of saying that I have more friends than I ever imagined.And they are a strong bunch.I would recommend not taking them on.Only, I think you’ve possibly worked that out for yourself.”
Even clever Lyndon had no answer to that.As he reached the door, Benedict spoke again.
“The book, Lyndon.It belongs to the Ashington estate, and you appear to still be holding it.Do leave it on the table on your way out.Poppet.”
*
“HE CALLED MEBen,” Benedict said excitedly.“Did you hear?He never calls me that.Not since we were very young.It gives me hope, Tommy.”
Tommy shook his head, though he was still smiling.“Hope was never lost, my love.”
He rose and sauntered to the door, carefully locked it, then sauntered over to where Benedict lounged on a settee plenty big enough for two.Settling himself, he snaked his arm around the back of Benedict’s neck, drawing him close and kissing his temple.
“I’ve never fucked in a duke’s library,” he observed.“A hunting lodge, yes, and in a bedchamber, of course.Also, on a drawing room chair, on a spindly study chair, which is sadly no more, and quite recently, across the bench of a duke’s coach and four.”He kissed Benedict again, no doubt recalling how they whiled away the hours travelling through Hampshire.“But I’ve never fucked in a duke’s library.”
Benedict chuckled.Already, he was loosening his cravat and fumbling with the fall of his breeches.“It’s a funny thing, Tommy.I don’t find that coarse word half as unpleasant spilling from your mouth.”
“What else do you like spilling from my mouth, Your Grace?”His fingertips traced slow circles up Benedict’s thigh.Benedict pulled him into his arms.
“The church service is not for another hour.Why don’t we find out?”
Epilogue
“WHERE IS EVERYBODY?” demanded Francis.“I turned around to find only myself and my darling new wife remaining on the dance floor!And now, her mother has pulled her aside to say her goodbyes to the northern side of the family.I’ll be embroiled for hours if I join her; they’ll make me promise all sorts of dreary treks to Yorkshire.I don’t have the constitution for northern living.”
He peered over Benedict’s shoulder as if expecting a contingent of elderly aunts armed with cuffs and chains.“I can usually rely on Rossingley to show a half decent leg on the dance floor, but he’s buggered off too.So, I need to appear terribly occupied over here for the next few minutes.”
“Rossingley and Angel retired an hour ago,” Benedict answered.“To their bedchambers in the east wing.”
“Angel was muttering something about soft furnishings, I believe,” added Tommy blandly.
“Oh, right…” Perplexed, Francis scratched his head before noticing Benedict’s mouth twisting into a smirk.
