Page 139 of Their Master

This time his smile wasn’t just beautiful, it was genuine. “I’d adore some tea.”

∞∞∞

Luke had wanted to kick Charles Smith’s scrawny arse down the front step rather than let him in the front door, but it wasn’t his place to make that decision, which was something that rankled more than it should.

But he’d obeyed Moira’s order and waited five minutes before knocking

“Ah, Luke. Could you have a tray sent up, please,” Moira said, leaving macaroons out of her request and giving him a look that said she did not need any assistance ridding the house of the other man.

Charles looked at him and laughed. “Well, you are justeverywhere.”

Luke looked to where Charles was sprawled out in a chair, his eyes dancing with vindictive amusement.

“You know Luke?” Moira asked, as if she didn’t already know.

“I wouldn’t say Iknowhim, but I certainly see him here, there, and everywhere.”

Luke ignored his mocking. “I’ll have a tea tray sent up right away.” He bowed and left before he did something he oughtn’t.

Charles didn’t stay much longer, clearly disinterested in taking tea with Moira. Luke didn’t relax until Armand had shown him to the door.

Later that night, in bed, they discussed Mr. Smith’s erstwhile lover.

“He is just spoiled—as very beautiful people are often wont to be,” Moira said, excusing him far more readily than the bastard deserved.

They’d been naked and sweat-slicked from their lovemaking, Moira relaxing on top of him. She had kissed his nose. “You are very beautiful, too, so I’m not sure why you’re not spoiled.”

She’d been amused that her words had embarrassed Luke.

He knew he was attractive, but he’d never been comfortable with hearing it. It was just a shell and it would age and crack and wear. He wanted somebody to love him for more than his face and body.

He’d also not wanted to talk about hisbeauty, but rather about Charles.

“I hope you did not encourage him to return,” he’d said, and then had wondered at his own audacity at dictating to his mistress.

But Moira hadn’t seemed to mind. “I don’t think he’ll be back,” she said. “I think he was just curious. And lonely and perhaps a bit jealous.”

Luke had been able to smell the spite on the other man at fifty paces.

“Promise me that you won’t admit him if I’m not at home, Moira.”

She’d sobered at his use of her name—which he employed rarely. Rather than tease him about being able to care for herself, she’d nodded and stroked his face. “Of course, I won’t let him in if it bothers you.”

Just thinking about the visit now, four days later, his skin crawled to think of Charles coming back to Miss Moira when Luke wasn’t there.

As he made his way toward Mr. Smith’s for their usual Monday evening, Luke tried to discern why he disliked Charles so much. He didn’t know him—at least not more than a superficial knowledge—but there was something about him that had always been so acquisitive and self-centered.

Luke might worship and adore Mr. Smith, but he was fully aware of his flaws. Smith was selfish, vain, and wanted to have everything exactly the way he liked it.

At the same time, Smith did not manipulate people with lies into signing his contracts. Everything was laid out clearly and plainly. If Charles signed it, he should have agreed with what he was signing.

While it was true that Smith’s demands were… well,demanding,a person always knew where they stood. And as much as he expected from his lovers, he always gave more; at least that was Luke’s opinion.

As he walked through the late March evening, he wondered what he’d find at his destination. His last conversation with his master—the one about Moira and becoming her lover—had not gone well.

Smith had then been out of London for three weeks.

Tonight he fully expected to find that Smith had not yet returned. Or that he simply did not wish to see Luke.

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