Page 23 of The Duke's Mysterious Lover
Family
Friends
Lovers
There were very few of number one left, which was how he’d become the Duke of Stroken in the first place. His parents had died close together when he’d been young, although the memory of their affection for one another did much to mitigate that grief. He had no siblings, and until very recently, his only cousin had been his uncle’s legitimate son John, who’d died a few years before his father, leaving Thorne as the unwilling heir.
As for friends, well, that was different. He hadplentyof friends—that was, after all, what had made him such an attractive recruit for Blackrose. He knew men and women from all walks of life—princesses to dockhands—and genuinely enjoyed their company. He flattered himself that they liked him.
He wasgoodat being liked.
Which, of course, led to the third category: lovers. He found his pleasure where he could, as often as possible, and made certain to give it as well. Despite thecarousingover the years, he’d been very careful when he chose his lovers, knew he was clean and healthy, and brought only pleasure—not worries—to the table.
Or the bed.
Or up against the wall.
Or behind the rosebushes in the garden.
His preferences ran toward the feminine, but he didn’t limit himself if the other party was interested and willing and delectable.
But he rarely spent the night with a woman, and never with another man.
Those categories? They were very, very separate. Servants had never even had their own category before.
It was only recently that he discovered one of his friends was actually a cousin, meaning someone from category two moved up to category one. Fawkes MacMillan, who’d been an unwilling poisoner for Blackrose for years, turned out to be the illegitimate son of the last Duke of Stroken, making him Thorne’s cousin.
That had been a…strange realization.
So while it was apparently possible for the lines between the categories to blur, Thorne hadneverhad a lover turn into a friend, or vice-versa.
So what in the shite had last night been about?
He needed more tea to deal with this.
A full stomach was helping the confusion, and when the silent footman refilled his cup, Thorne nodded in thanks.
Kit had been that footman, only a fortnight ago.
Then he’d become Thorne’s valet.
And last night, his confidante.
Nay, more than that. He’d…he’d seen something missing in Thorne that Thorne himself had not seen, and offered it freely. He’d allowed a…shite, there was no other word for it: a release. Not just sexual, though Thorne had slept well for the first time inmonths. Kit had…taken care of him.
Caredforhim.
Kit isnae yer friend.
