Page 18 of Coming Out at Crofton Hall

“Yep,” Dara said. He now had his own phone out and Alex thought he might be tapping out a message.

“So you think the billionaire is really going to turn down the movie star for a policeman? Can this Simon bloke breathe through his ears, or something?”

Chris looked confused. “Why would that be a reason?”

Dara sighed. “Honestly, Chris, you can’t be that naïve. Alex is suggesting Simon’s ability to keep Robin is due to his oral skills.”

Chris dropped his phone. “Oh! No! Well, I wouldn’t know, but I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be the only reason.”

Alex laughed and wondered what planet Chris lived on. “He must be pretty special, though. In my experience, rich men want rich men or women. It’s all about prestige. Whether that’s for the camera or the board.”

“Sounds like you’ve not met enough decent humans,” Chris said. “I lived in LA for a few years, and while there were lots of wonderful people, there were lots who were awful.”

“I’m not saying there aren’t any, but once someone has a lot of money their level of humanity tends to be inversely proportional.”

“Robin’s not like that. And neither are Ben and Ashley,” Chris said, the colour rising in his cheeks.

“There’s always exceptions that prove the rule,” he said, not wanting to antagonise, although he was curious, especially about Ashley and his colourful family. “And I guess Ashley’s from a pretty well-off family, which is different to this Simon bloke, right? Is it true there’s gangland connections?”

“Yes, but Ashley is not his father. He gets quite upset if people make assumptions about him.” Chris paused for a moment. “Ashley does have a side of him I wouldn’t cross though.”

Dara scoffed. “Ashley’s a pussy cat.”

“Pussy cats have claws! If you might hurt someone precious to him then I reckon all bets are off. He gave me the shovel talk over Jack.”

“Jack, your partner, the barrister?”

“Yes.” Chris beamed and seemed to gaze into the middle distance. Dara elbowed him. “Ow!”

“Jack’s Ashley’s best friend,” explained Dara. “I doubt he did more than any friend would do. Chris is prone to letting his fiction bleed into real life.”

Alex laughed at Chris’s indignant expression. “A challenge I imagine—as a historian.”

“I’m only a part-time historian. I’m also the hall’s writer-in-residence.”

Ben had mentioned something about a play based on the 1st Earl of Crofton and his actor lover, although he didn’t have much more detail, then a nugget of information clicked into place. “Oh, you wroteHidden for the Duke.”

“That’s right.” Chris preened. “Well, sort of, I wrote the unfinished bits that Sebastian Hewel hadn’t got to. He was Anthony’s lover and an actor at the time.”

Alex got the distinct feeling he had an awful lot to learn about the history of the Earls of Crofton.

Dara, who had been staring at his phone let out a deep sigh. “Well, that answers the question about if Simon knows. He’s started getting messages on Instagram telling him to do the decent thing and leave Robin so he can go back to Dorian.”

Chris looked scandalised. “That’s awful!”

“Someone has to be leaking this shit to the press.” Dara scowled as he read something on this phone, and he turned the screen for others to see. “Oh Jesus wept.”

Alex’s eyes widened and he nearly knocked over his pint as he read the headline.Three-way gay affair for Denial Dorian, Randy Lord Redhorn, and Rampant Robin?

CHAPTER8

Dorian rubbed Robin’s back and he leant over hyperventilating, rocking to and fro. “No, no, no. This cannot be happening.”

The photos of their night out had been innocuous, three friends who were having a few drinks, nothing that would have caused a stir if some bastard hadn’t also told the press that Robin and Dorian had dated in secret for several years. There were only so many people who knew, and even fewer with an axe to grind to spread rumours.

“It’ll blow over and no one will give a fuck in a few days,” Dorian said, aiming to reassure Robin, not that he was having much luck.

They’d got home a lot later than he’d envisaged they would, close to five a.m. and after having drunk far too much red wine and tequila. He’d emerged after six hours of poor quality sleep and had attempted to drown himself in the shower. Ben had got up looking refreshed and as if he’d slept for a week, but Dorian had forgiven him for being so perky because he’d come bearing gifts of painkillers and water.

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