Aiden hissed. “You are not leaving without me. I’m coming with you.”
Terrance’s head snapped up. “Don’t be ridiculous. Your place is here.”
“My place is with you.” Aiden threw himself off the bed and crushed Terrance to him. “I’ll not stand to be parted from you again. I won’t allow it.”
Although his words were probably meant from the heart, what Aiden suggested was impossible. A duke did not up and follow his gentleman lover to the far side of the world on a whim. Come tomorrow, he’d change his mind about it all and eventually laugh at his ridiculous response.
Terrance curled his arms about Aiden and squeezed. He should have known Aiden would react so strongly to the news. He reacted strongly to everything else. Perhaps he shouldn’t have told him, just disappeared from his life again like last time. But Aiden had become a different man since then. He allowed himself to be fragile and had placed his trust in Terrance. He rocked his lover in his arms until he pulled away.
Aiden crossed the room and snatched up the painting. When he turned it around, an astonished frown creased his brow. “But this is Lady Henderson. The former Lady Henderson. Why would you take this?”
Terrace took the portrait from his hands and placed it face out on an arm chair. His mother’s smiling face peeked back at him, exactly as he remembered her from long ago. He could almost imagine he scented the lingering hint of roses in the room now that she was here with him again. He missed her. He loved her. He’d never lose her again.
Terrance turned to face Aiden, waving his hand toward the portrait with regret. “My mother.”
Aiden’s mouth opened in astonishment. Then he snapped it shut without a word. While he was silent, Terrance righted the room, tossing strewn clothing on another chair in preparation for the morning. When he was done, he climbed into bed and let his gaze fall on his mother once more.
Aiden moved to stand between him and the painting. “Lady Henderson’s only son died with her.”
“So I’ve heard many a time.” Terrance settled on his side as long fought memories rose and fell restlessly. He blotted them out by thinking of Aiden’s smooth prick sliding over his tongue. It was better to think of the present instead of the disappointments of the past.
He closed his eyes as the bed dipped when Aiden climbed in behind him. When his lover snuggled up against his back and hugged him tightly to his chest, Terrance weakened and turned over. He hugged his lover hard as tears flowed from his eyes.
Aiden accepted his lapse of control without a word, smoothing his hands over Terrance’s shaking back, holding his head firmly to his shoulder as his tears flowed without relent. When he was empty and numb, he grabbed a corner of the sheet to blot his weeping eyes. He couldn’t look at his lover now, not after that outpouring of troubling emotion. He kept his head tucked away and settled in for sleep.
The last thing he remembered before oblivion claimed him was Aiden’s repeated whisper, “I’m definitely coming with you.”
Chapter Eleven
A week ago Aiden would not have given another man’s discomfort a moment’s thought. But Terrance’s refusal to look him in the eye, or speak more than one word at a time, had him scrambling for the correct words to utter. Last night’s startling revelation of Terrance’s connections had silenced both of them. Aiden didn’t know what to think. He sat down in the cold kitchen and reached for a piece of cheese.
Terrance shifted restlessly in his seat. “It’s not what you’re used to, I’m sure.”
Aiden quickly swallowed the food in his mouth without tasting it. “Are you saying I’m spoiled?”
A sad smile twisted Terrance’s lips. “You’re used to the best. To me this is a feast. I should warn you that I don’t expect to eat much better on my adventure. You should stay here.”
“My adventure, too.” Yet a tumbling disquiet stirred Aiden. He sat forward. “Do you want to tell me what happened to Viscount Hathaway? If memory serves, he was very young at the time of his reputed death.”
Terrance stood abruptly and walked to the open rear door. He stood looking out, tense, muscles clenching and unclenching alarmingly. His arms wrapped tight about his chest. “His mother pushed him from the carriage as the swollen river swept them downstream. She didn’t follow him out as she promised.”
Aiden could imagine such a scene. “That was a brave thing to do. She must have loved you very much.”
“The only one who did.” Terrance set his head to the doorframe. “It would have been better to have drowned together,” he whispered.
“Don’t say that,” Aiden snapped.
“Why not?” Terrance shouted. “Surely death would have been preferable to what happened to me after.”
The agony behind his words brought moisture to Aiden’s eyes. He crossed the room and leaned against Terrance’s back, not holding him but offering his support should it be needed. “What happened to you, Terrance?”
“Something no child should ever be a witness to. Sickness, madness.” His voice trailed off on the last words and a shudder rocked him. “I wanted to die so many times. But I was never alone. There were more children, all weeping and scared like me. The number rose and fell every day.”
A lump formed in Aiden’s throat. He curved his arm slowly around Terrance’s waist. “Yet you survived.”
“I was fortunate. A servant left the door unlatched and a few of us slipped out. We stayed together for a while, stealing what we needed without any thought but survival. Wild savages every last one of us. One day I came across a wagon stopped by the side of the road, the driver taking a piss behind a tree. Since it was heading in the direction I wanted to go, I hid myself and, after a while, ended up in
London
. I was eight by then.”
Aiden curled his other arm about Terrance and set his chin to his shoulder. “Why did you not tell someone who you were?”
Terrance spun out of his arms. “Did you think I did not? I shouted to everyone who had ears that I was Viscount Hathaway, a rich man’s son. Not one blasted person believed me. I told them my father would whip them for the wrong they did me. Instead of heeding my words they . . .” Terrance rushed outside.
Aiden followed as Terrance vomited his breakfast up over the garden beds. He set his hand to Terrance’s broad back as his shoulders heaved. He could only guess at what might have happened to Terrance to make him react so strongly. It was a miracle he’d survived at all.
Terrance pulled away, a bitter laugh bursting through his lips. “I thought my father would search for me. I thought he would move heaven and earth to bring me home. Instead, he married within six months and produced three daughters in quick succession. He never gave me or my dead mother a second thought. I visited the house the first time to confront him, but then I found her painting hanging in the house and simply stared at it. I couldn’t keep the painting with me until now.”
Aiden’s arms ached to hold his lover again, yet he couldn’t do that outside where anyone might see. He tugged on Terrance’s arm. “Come back inside and sit down.”
Terrance nodded and shuffled toward the house, his movements limp, drained of vigor, and utterly terrifying to Aiden. He pushed him to the bench and passed his glass of wine over. Terrance drained it and then another.
Aiden sat beside Terrance. “Thank you for sharing what was obviously a harrowing experience. You don’t have to say more if it upsets you this much. But I will listen any time you want to speak of it, again.”
Terrance regarded him in silence. Eyes dull, mobile lips stiff. The bright spark of mischief was gone from his eyes.
Aiden thought he might know how to get it back. He ran his hand lightly over Terrance’s skull and sifted his fingers through the long strands. “Now. About this trip, where are you taking me?”
“You don’t have to pretend you’re coming, Your Grace. It’s enough that you thought you wanted to last night.”
“Of course I’m coming. Can’t let you have all that fun alone. If you could extend your departure date by a few days, though, I’d appreciate it. Josephine will likely argue non-stop when she learns.”
“The Duke of Lewes has responsibilities.”
“Yes he does. He needs to keep Viscount Hathaway from getting lost again. Not that we’ll make use of our titles while we’re abroad. I’ve traveled a bit myself and they just get in the way.” He curled his arm about Terrance’s shoulders. “I cannot wait to travel the world with you.”
“God damn it,” Terrance hissed, pressing his fingers to his eyes to likely hide tears.
Aiden chuckled. “I am determined, Terry. You’re not escaping me now.”
“Terry?”
Aiden grinned. “Thought I’d try it out. There is so much about you I want to uncover. Do you hate the name?”
“Only my mother called me that.”
“May I, too?”
Terry nodded suddenly.
Aiden shook him. “Good, tell me where we are off to first?”
Although he would like nothing more than to pry every secret from Terry here and now, he judged he’d pushed enough for one day. While Terry listed the places he thought would be most interesting, Aiden ran his hand up and down his legs, soothing his lover as best he could. The nightmare that had been his childhood was still too raw and brutal, even after so many years had passed. Aiden may not be able to take the memories away, but he would do his best to support Terry the only way he knew how.
Touch. Terry thrived on sensations.
He could give him the gift of his affections if it meant he’d never feel so bad again.
He glanced out the door at the bright new day upon them. “I should go, but I’ll return tonight to let you know when I can be ready to depart.”
“Of course,” Terry’s reluctant response made Aiden smile.
He kissed him hard. “Until tonight.”
In truth, Aiden didn’t want to leave at all. But he had to pack and face Josephine and Robert, eventually. The short distance passed in a blur of excitement and when the door of Mercer House shut soundly behind him, he found Josephine, pale and trembling, waiting on the staircase.
Aiden’s eagerness died. “What on earth are you doing sitting there?”
She stood suddenly, descended the stairs and flew at him. But instead of the lecture he expected for leaving her last night without so much as a goodbye, she embraced him. “Thank God you’re home.”
He pulled her arms from about his neck. “Josephine, we need to talk.”
“We certainly do. I could have killed someone.”
Aiden frowned. “What’s that you say?”
“I could have shot someone.” She gestured behind her. “The pistol was primed.”
Aiden hurried for his study. A lingering scent of gun smoke permeated the room, a bookcase shelf splintered from a shot. His pistol, spent now, lay on his desk in silent accusation. He turned about as Josephine joined him. “What the devil were you doing in my desk drawer?”
“What were you doing with a loaded pistol?” She countered, hands settling on her hips stubbornly. “You are always playing with something in that drawer. Every time I come in here you shut it.”
“Never mind why. Do you have no respect for my privacy? Or anyone’s for that matter?”
“Of course I respect your privacy. If I didn’t I’d have asked different questions about your life. Why you’ve suddenly become happy, for instance. After last night’s ball, I can easily guess at the reason.”
Aiden’s throat tightened. Surely she couldn’t know about his preference for other men—especially for Terry. He met her gaze. “What about last night?”