Then luck had smiled upon his friend, Henry. He’d learned of a country household in need of additional servants, good positions well suited to their skills outside the bedchamber, and he suggested leaving the Hunt Club together. Terrance had jumped at the chance to join an estate far away from
London
. Despite their inexperience, he and Henry had gotten the positions and they’d left
London
for what he’d hoped to be more interesting parts for the country.
But the change of scenery hadn’t really suited his temperament. He’d grown bored too soon and found nothing to tempt his inner desires. Which was half the reason why he’d come to
Covent Garden
tonight before heading off into parts unknown. He was eager to find someone anonymous to take the edge off his desires.
Terrance followed along behind a crowd of revelers. A man alone was often a target for the harder class of thieves. For the time being, some caution was called for. He had no desire to test his skills at self-defense just yet.
The crowd stopped and met with acquaintances. Terrance envied them their large circle. He knew no one here he cared to acknowledge. But he saw Meg, the flower seller from
Arlington Street
, supplementing her income with a gentleman customer. She hooked her arm through her beau’s and disappeared down a dark walk. When Terrance turned back, his adopted group had moved on without him. He stood alone.
He chuckled.
How dare they?
Terrance set off at a leisurely pace, and came upon another group milling about. The company was all men, all finely dressed gentlemen and although he intended to pass them by, their conversation intrigued him. There seemed to be a genuine sense of companionship among them. One laughed aloud and the sound stopped Terrance in his tracks.
The Duke of
Staines
.
Terrance cursed under his breath. Another man turned his head and Terrance’s panic doubled. Redding—the duke’s and the Hunt Club’s problem solver.
Redding
took two steps from his group and Terrance took the same away, the movement akin to dancing. Yet Terrance knew he was engaged in a battle of wills. It just depended on whether
Redding
would leave the duke’s side and come after him.
A young man turned to see what
Staines
and
Redding
stared at, and the shock of him stilled Terrance’s heart. A younger Lewes stared back. Thinner, darker hair, but an almost exact copy. And then the real man stepped from his shadow.
Time halted.
“Archer?” Lewes whispered.
The shock of seeing Lewes in the flesh stopped his heart completely. His lover’s cheeks had grown sharper, yet his outward appearance was unchanged. He still wore the tight fitting coat that required assistance to remove. But he would know that face, and the obscenely large diamond cravat pin, anywhere. Like a ghost rising from the cracked ground, Lewes approached, bringing a rising tide of need with him.
Terrance shook his head. No. He’d not go back to the way things had been. He had his freedom now, and more control of his life than he had ever known. He spun about and strode into the darkness, little caring where his steps took him. He knew
Covent Garden
like the back of his hand and he quickly put considerable distance between him and the duke’s party.
Yet he was followed. He could hear the rough pant of a man pursuing him with little regard for his safety or his consequence. Irritated, Terrance ducked behind a wall and the man barreled past his hiding place.
Lewes. The damn fool.
He’d get his throat slit for the blasted diamond pin in his cravat.
Despite his better judgment, Terrance followed him, and just in time too. Lewes was stopped by a pair of barrel-necked bruisers twice his size. Although impressed that Lewes didn’t turn tail and attempt escape, Terrance couldn’t allow him to be hurt if he could prevent it.
He stepped up beside his former lover. “Gentlemen, there are easier pickings farther along,” he drawled.
The rough pair exchanged glances. Their postures tensed, prepared for battle. They rushed him. Terrance pushed Lewes out of harm’s way, landed a solid punch to one, and lodged his knee in the gut of the second. The first thug swung his fist and Terrance caught it, twisted his arm until the man screamed in pain and fell to his knees. Terrance released him, set his foot to his rump and shoved hard. The man slammed to the ground and moaned.
The second man stood with his fists raised before him gasping for breath.
An amateur boxer?
Terrance smiled. He knew how to deal with his kind. If nothing else, his childhood on
London
’s streets had taught him how to win. Speed. He stalked in quickly and struck a quick jab to his face. Ugly number two crumpled to the ground without delivering a blow.
Terrance turned, snagged the Duke of Lewes by the arm, and hauled him back toward his party. The idiot’s face was slack with shock.
“Fool. Do you have no sense left in you? The Garden is no place to walk alone.”
They had covered perhaps twenty paces before Lewes dug his heels into the earth suddenly. An odd gleam lighted Lewes’ usually barren expression. “I wasn’t alone. I was with you,” he blurted. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”
Wonderful
. This was what he hadn’t counted on. But he had little interest in Lewes’ attempt at conversation. Debating pugilism had no value to him. “Nowhere you’d want to hear about.
Staines
is in that direction. I suggest you rejoin his party without delay before someone else decides they want what you have.” He flicked the duke’s cravat pin to remind him of its value and turned to go.
But Lewes’ hand firmed on his arm. “Wait. Where have you been? Where are you staying?”
Terrance shook off the grip and ignored the questions. “Go back to
Staines
.”
Determined to avoid further conversation, Terrance stalked off into the darkness. But before he’d gone too many paces, Lewes fell into step beside him.
Of all the idiotic things to do. A duke did not keep company with a male whore in public. Did Lewes want to be seen and risk his neck? He pulled Lewes into a secluded spot and shoved him hard against a brick wall.
Lewes gasped—the sound reminiscent of his weekly visits to the Hunt Club’s torture room. The reminder soured Terrance’s remaining enjoyment of the evening. “Damn it all. Must I spell out the situation using small words for you to understand? I am no longer a man whose attentions can be engaged for fifty pounds a night. I’ve not returned to whoring.”
Lewes heaved a heavy sigh. “That is the best news I’ve heard since you left me without an explanation.”
Terrance drew back. “Why would you care whether I informed you or not? Many men at the Hunt Club would do the job you want. I’m sure they found someone the next night to master you.”
Lewes leaned closer. “Our association was never as simple as that. You gave the orders and I followed. The last thing you said to me was get out. And I did it without question because you wished it, even though I wanted to remain and make amends for my outburst. What was I supposed to do after you disappeared?”
Terrance crossed his arms over his chest, but Lewes’ question did distress him. “You never, ever followed my instructions to the letter.”
Lewes lowered his head. “I should have. I will do whatever you ask so long as you don’t send me away again.”
Terrance raked his hands through his hair and tugged. He’d not expected his instructions to take, but it seemed Lewes might have taken them at face value and assumed he’d enjoyed what they’d done together. What would Lewes say when he learned it was all an act? “Can you not get it through your thick skull that we are done with each other?”
Lewes’ gaze rose, but he kept his face averted. A submissive gesture of obedience that he’d never offered before. Arousal roared through Terrance, mocking his belief that he could forget this man. His prick thickened, his fingers tingled with the need to push Lewes to his knees and brush the tip across his mouth. But Lewes would undoubtedly fight that kind of pleasure. He had before.
Lewes chin rose, and for the first time Terrance glimpsed more than just a flicker of emotion in his gaze. The duke was desolate. “If you are done with me, then my soul is lost. You’ve ruined me for anyone else. I belong to you. I want the same as you.”
Terrance’s heart jumped to his throat. “You would demand pain. I do not, that is to say, I was paid to inflict that upon my clients. I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore.”
Lewes shook his head. “I have pain now and I don’t care for it. Your way will suit me. Just give me another chance.”
“Were you always this stubborn?” Terrance growled. “If I had my way now you would be on your knees already with my prick between your lips.”
Chapter Five
This time the bluntly worded command did not disgust Aiden. This time his prick thickened with the knowledge that he could have Archer back in his life if he complied. He dropped to his knees, lips parting on a sigh.
Pain lanced Aiden’s skull as Archer pulled him to his feet by his hair.
“Have you lost your mind?”
“Isn't that what you want?”
Archer shook him. “There is a time and place for such matters. Do you want to see us both dance upon the gallows?”
Aiden glanced left and right. “We are alone. No one can see us.”
“You are as foolish as before, Your Grace. You haven't learned a bloody thing. Run back to
Staines
and make good use of the privacy afforded by the club for your pleasures.”
Aiden's stomach dropped to the soles of his bright polished boots. “Please,” he whispered, “I cannot go back to that.”
Archer's scowl grew, but Aiden wouldn't retract the word. Too much of his contentment rested on Archer's broad shoulders. Three years ago, he hadn't understood what he'd had, what he needed. He couldn't lose him again.
Archer's weight shifted from foot to foot, restless and wary. Aiden couldn't blame him. He needed a good reason to stay. “Did you get the key I sent through Arrow?”
A weary sigh passed through Archer’s lips and he stepped away. “Eventually.”
Aiden followed, anxious that he not disappear before they’d talked. “The contents remained locked still, and I haven't touched them or visited the Hunt Club’s upper rooms since you left. Please, stay with me.”
“Really.” Archer stepped closer, nostrils flaring in a way Aiden remembered and had missed. “Then I gather you're about to go off half-cocked?”
“No, sir. I am prepared and able to wait for your command.”
Archer leaned closer still. “Now, that is a valuable trait in a man.”
When he remained close against Aiden, hope and anticipation soared in his breast, but he suppressed his physical reaction and exercised the restraint he'd lacked before. Before, he would have rushed Archer, eager to get what he wanted and leave again. And Archer hadn't liked loosening the reins—he'd preferred his own slower pace.
Archer moved away. He stopped a few steps from Aiden and looked at him from over his shoulder. “Come along, Your Grace. The night is passing.”
Aiden shuddered at the invitation. He quickly reached Archer's side and forced his steps to slow as they strolled from
Covent Garden
as if they were simply friends out for an evening of entertainment. Aiden liked the thought of that. He’d never spent time with Archer outside the walls of the Hunt Club. The excitement of it woke his soul.