Page 105 of Coming Out at Crofton Hall

Before Ben could argue, Alex was gone and he was now faced with the horror of having his husband trying to bag a fireman while surrounded by his friends no doubt egging him on and even bankrolling the endeavour. He was going to kill Dorian, and Robin, and not even Simon could save them from a slow and painful death.

“Lord Crofton, we’re ready for you.”

The ever dependable Mr Hill was ensuring the chattel were in place. Ben wished he’d taken the opportunity to down a large brandy but that sweet respite was lost to him now. “Best get this over with.”

When he’d been younger he had loved the premise, and had taken part in an auction and had been fought over by a load of horny strangers—he’d included more than just dinner as part of the prize. But that was a lifetime ago, and all he wanted was to be back at the hall singing nursery rhymes and letting Davy fall asleep in his arms. Fucking hell, life had changed and he could only say it was for the better.

Ben drew himself to his full height and prepared himself for battle, in a way he imagined his great-great grandfather had done during the war when he had to face Churchill after a mission had gone south. There was a minor local celebrity acting as compere, who no doubt had his ego deflated once word got around that Dorian was in the building, and he was starting with his patter.

“Now ladies and gentlemen, one of our prime lots,” began Terence, who Ben thought was a local newscaster. “Benjamin Redbourn is the 16th Earl of Crofton, a patron to many local charities and friend to countless worthy organisations. He has spoken at length about being openly bisexual, so there’s no reason for any of you not to place a bid.”

That was his cue and he walked out onto the stage to loud applause and several catcalls.

“We’ve already surpassed our minimum bid of a thousand pounds for his lordship, so let’s see where we can go from here…”

Ben slapped on his trademark charming smile—he’d not been instructed to speak but to stand there and look pretty, and that was what he would do. The great hall of the manor had been set out with tables and he scanned the room to see where his rat of a husband was with his traitorous friends. Ashley was laughing, Simon leaning in and whispering in his ear and Robin and Dorian were waving their champagne glasses in his direction. At least there was no sign of the fucking fireman so he hoped Ashley had been unsuccessful. He recognised several other faces in the room, some of them were friends he’d known biblically for a night and many others were people he knew from estate business, including the mayor who appeared delighted. Maybe he was lucky and she was bidding, because they could have a nice chat about local primary schools over dinner.

Ben’s ego didn’t need any encouragement most days, but he couldn’t help being smug when the bids hit ten grand and there seemed to be a battle between two fervent supporters, which was getting Terence super excited. To many of the people in the room ten grand was small change but it would be huge for the charity and he had already decided to match the winning bid with a personal donation.

“Bloody hell!” cried Terence. “It appears someone really wants to get their sticky paws on Ben—the bid has jumped to fifty grand!”

He’d been hoping that Ashley might have been one of the bidders, but there was no way he would have considered Ben worth that much, no matter the charity. But the mega bid did seem to seal the deal.

“Final call, ladies and gentlemen. Three, two, one… and sold. For the price of fifty thousand pounds to Robin MacLove.”

He didn’t know what was more shocking, Robin using Simon’s last name or the amount he’d bid. Bastard. But at least Ashley would be happy.

Mel came over to greet him as he jogged down the stairs from the stage, she’d been delivering the goods to their temporary owners. “I knew you’d be smashing, darling. I can’t believe how brilliant the outcome is.”

“Given the name of the winning bid, I might make him chip in a little more. He didn’t tell me he’d be here.”

“Can’t say I know the name.”

“Come now, Mel. Who’s the Robin in the room who can drop fifty grand without a thought?”

“But he’s a Flint not a MacLove.” She glanced at the table number. “But you’re right it is that table.”

“MacLove is his partner’s name.”

“Ooooh. Does that mean they’ve bought you together for a bit of fun?”

He thought he did well not to call her a rude name. “Unlikely, especially with my husband at the table, and Simon being one of Ashley’s good friends.”

“Silly me. Well, since you know who’s who I’ll let you toddle off to your new owner. I think Miss Tinker has had a few too many glasses of champagne and might need reminding that there are boundaries to be observed.”

Ben sauntered over to the table to the hoots and wolf whistles of his so-called friends. Robin pushed away from the table and patted his lap. “Over here, cupcake. Let’s have a proper look at my winnings.”

Simon whacked him one. “Remember I told you to behave or I’d cut off the booze? Well, this is your second warning.”

“Hey, he’s cost me fifty big ones, I should get a little fondle.”

“According to the stories, you’ve had more than a fondle in the past so quit it.” Simon was joking but there was only so far either him or Robin would joke over this one. “Besides, you said he was a present for Ashley for looking after me so well, and it’s rude to play with other people’s gifts.”

Ben should have realised Simon was the mastermind behind all this. He would have known Ashley wasn’t so happy with Ben taking part but felt he couldn’t object after their fight.

Ashley smirked. “Over here, honey. I want to inspect the goods.”

He took the spare seat at the table. “There are strict rules, Mr Redbourn. You should have read the small print.”

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