One Indulgence (7 page)

Henry was sitting up in the bed now, thankfully covered from the waist down by the sheet he had pulled over him. “No. I’ve never done anything before tonight. Well, almost once, but not really until tonight.” He drew a deep breath. “And I have never been with a woman, if that is your next question.”

“It was. But…” Richard tapped his fingers on the back of the sofa. “We don’t have to leave until we want to. Trust me. This is no tyrannical posting inn. We may stay for as long as we like.
And
they may add it to your bill for as long as you like.”

Henry laughed despite himself. That made sense. There was another awkward pause between them; then Richard crossed the room toward an ornately carved wardrobe. He pulled out several elegant quilted dressing gowns until he found one that fit and pulled it on.

“How did you know those were there?” Henry asked.

Richard grinned and shrugged theatrically.

“Mmm. Never mind,” Henry said with a laugh, though he did wonder why Richard was bothering with a dressing gown. Now appeared as good a time as any to get dressed and be on their separate ways. That did not mean Henry wanted to do any such thing.

“Are you hungry?” Richard asked suddenly. He was kneeling down by the hearth and stoking the fire back to life.

A sharp gurgle from Henry’s middle reminded him that he had been too nervous to eat anything the day before. He was downright ravenous. “Yes,” he replied. “Very.”

“Good. I would be terribly insulted if you told me that you hadn’t worked up an appetite.” Richard lifted his brow and grinned. Henry couldn’t help but laugh, knowing his cheeks had colored yet again. “I’ll call for dinner.”

“Dinner?” Henry rose from the bed and grabbed his shirt from the floor. “But it must be past midnight.”

“Well past, but houses such as these don’t exactly keep country hours.” Richard went to the door and pulled the tasseled sash next to the frame. Somewhere down in the servants’ hall, a bell would be ringing for service.

The room was still chilly despite the renewed fire, making the notion of a dressing gown appealing. Henry retrieved one from the wardrobe, choosing to ignore the fact that he was slipping into a garment that other men had obviously worn, and went to the sideboard to pour himself a glass of water. He was parched and hungry and sore, and had never felt so wonderful in his entire life. He grinned, knowing that Richard could not see his face. He felt the smile consume him to the point of giddiness, like a naughty child who had just stolen a plate of pastries. A heady sense of triumph engulfed him, even if he was still feeling ridiculously awkward.

“Are you all right?”

Richard had approached so quietly that Henry had not noticed. He turned and nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

Richard’s expression was wary. “You are sure? You aren’t regretting anything? I didn’t hurt you?”

“What? No. Of course not.” Henry examined Richard’s eyes, trying to see what he was thinking, but whatever had prompted his questions vanished under a relieved smile.

“Good. I’m glad,” Richard said. “Dinner should be up any moment. They keep food always prepared, I think, and—”

A polite knock at the door drew their attention, also causing Henry to nearly jump out of his skin.

“That was fast.” Richard went toward the door.

Henry knew it was just one of the brothel servants, but that fear to which he had grown so accustomed crept down his back like drops of cold water. It was the same prickly feeling of terror he always felt when he inadvertently made eye contact with a man he had been appraising, or when one of his father’s old acquaintances would make some chuckling reference to his bachelorhood.

He stepped away from the sideboard and closer to the bed, out of sight of where the door would open onto the room.

Richard went to the door and managed to take a loaded tray from the servant. He carried it to the low table before the hearth where their clothes were still scattered about.

“Thank you,” Henry said as he recovered himself and came to take a seat on the sofa. “I would not have thought to request food. I would merely have gone home and starved until breakfast.”

“Your servants don’t wait up for you?” Richard asked. “That is, if you have servants.”

“I have servants.” Henry laughed. “There is no way I could even find the linen closet in a house the size of C—” He snapped his jaw shut before the words “Cortland House” could leave his lips. Dear God, had he almost been so reckless?

“But they don’t wait up for you?” Richard said. There was a small pitcher of milk on the tray, which he took up and poured over two teacups.

“Yes, but I…I told them not to tonight.”

Richard leaned back in his chair, cool milk in hand. “Smart man.”

Henry dug into the mix of bread and cold meats, not at all caring that it was pantry fare. They both ate in silence for a few minutes, the food providing a comfortable excuse. Finally, Richard cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry about that, by the way,” he said. “I should have asked you more specifically before I started having servants come to the door.”

“There is no need to apologize, really,” Henry assured him. “I’m just…not comfortable with it. I suppose that’s futile, isn’t it? As if the servants in this place don’t know.” He knew his face was red again, but his words struck him suddenly. The servants! Dear God, how could he not have thought of that!

“I know what you’re thinking, and there is no need to worry,” Richard said quickly. “Old Dorlet would rather eat her own date book than ever give information about the patrons here. Even to her own staff. They don’t know who you are any more than they know who I am, and if they managed to find out on their own, they would know to keep it to themselves.”

Henry smiled sheepishly and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Besides,” Richard continued, “no one like us is ever ‘comfortable’ with it. That would be reckless.”

“I know,” Henry murmured. “That’s why I came here and made my, eh, request the way I did. I thought it would be safe.”

“It is safe. You’re safe with me, Henry.”

Something heavy and warm seemed to flow over his skin. He darted a glance up, meeting Richard’s earnest gaze just before he turned his eyes away and squirmed rather awkwardly in his chair. The feeling of elation—strange, foolish elation—did not lessen, and it left Henry feeling bold.

“May I ask you a personal question?” Henry asked.

“By all means. I’m assuming it isn’t my full name.”

“No.” Henry shook his head. “I want to ask… What was your first time like? With a man, I mean.”

Richard’s expression fell, and his whole body seemed to go rigid.

“Forgive me.” Henry raised his hand. “That was too personal a question to ask. I’m not trying to pry.”

“When anyone asks a question like that, it can’t be anything but prying,” Richard countered. “But I understand what you mean. It’s all right. It’s just that it is not a pleasant memory and not something that I’m proud of either.”

“I understand,” Henry replied automatically. He sipped his milk and wondered what could have happened to make Richard feel that way. Had his lover been insensitive or brutish? Had he gone to a prostitute, and that was what left him ashamed?

“I’m sorry,” Henry said softly. “Not for asking, but sorry that it is not a pleasant memory for you. Tonight will be a glorious memory for me—”

Oh! Rambling fool!
Henry turned his gaze to the fire.

“I am glad,” Richard said sincerely. “But I think I will answer your question anyway.”

“You don’t have to. Really. It isn’t any of my business.” Henry heard the sincerity in his words but could not deny that he really did want to know. Though perhaps he just wanted to feel that Richard trusted him enough to tell him such a thing.

“But we have to be fair. After all, I know
all
the details of your first time.” Richard smiled and laughed, but there was an edge to it. He placed some more bits of meat and cheese on his plate and sat back. He made no move to actually eat.

“I said it wasn’t something I was very proud of, and it isn’t. You see, I hurt someone my first time. I didn’t mean to. I was young and stupid, and I think his feelings for me were much deeper than mine were for him.”

Oh
… “I see. He was expecting a deeper attachment, and you weren’t? You cannot feel bad about that, though. You can’t make yourself feel what you don’t.”

Richard shook his head slowly. “No. I don’t think you understand. I hurt him
physically
.”

The hair on Henry’s neck rose, chilling him. How could that be? Richard had been so thoughtful, so paced. How could he hurt someone?

“We were in our first year at university, and after we were both, well,
sure
about the other, we started spending all our free time together. We started finding ways to be alone, and in a place as big and ancient as Oxford, that isn’t difficult to do. It didn’t take long for us to… Well, we both wanted to, even though we really didn’t know anything.” He rested his elbow on the arm of the chair and let his head fall against his hand. “I was just so damn foolish. I had no idea what I was doing, and was too damn desperate and eager to care. I caused him a lot of pain.”

Henry frowned. “I don’t understand. You were hurting him, and you…you didn’t stop?”

“I didn’t know I was hurting him. He hid it. He lied to me.” A flash of anger crossed Richard’s eyes. “I should have noticed, I suppose, but I was young and too lost in my own selfish pleasure to see that anything was wrong. When it was…over…and I saw his face, I knew.”

“Why would he do that?” Henry said, aghast.

“Because he didn’t think very highly of me,” Richard snapped. “No, I’m sorry. That isn’t fair. He just wanted to make me happy, and I suppose he felt that if he didn’t give me what I wanted, I would stop spending time with him, maybe throw him over for someone else. It doesn’t speak very well of the impression I must have made in those years, does it? Looking back, I know that I was the one who pushed hardest for every risk we took and every new pleasure we stole in a dark room.”

It was a sad story, Henry had to admit, and even more tragic because there appeared to be no clean separation of victim and villain. They had both behaved badly, no doubt a result of inexperience.

“You must have been angry with him,” Henry said.

“I was,” Richard said, his voice somewhat surprised. “Most would think I would be instantly remorseful, but I wasn’t. Of course not. I had to compound injury with insult. I…I raged at him. I called him a liar and a fool. I said there was no way I could ever trust him again. What I didn’t tell him was that I was truly angry because he had ruined it all. His lies had turned a great moment into one of the worst I could remember. I thought I would never forgive him for that. I made sure he knew it.” Richard laughed bitterly and pressed his hand to his forehead. “I think I stormed out on him before he could even pull on any clothes.”

Henry felt a sincere welling of sympathy, and why shouldn’t he? His experience had been markedly different, and yet so similar. Dear God! He had gone years without thinking of that day, for he had pushed it down as far as he could when he decided that he could no longer entertain indulging in his aberrant thoughts. Yet here he was, thinking about it in stark detail, after an evening spent in very aberrant indulgences indeed.

“Did you ever see him again?” Henry asked.

“Yes, years later at some social gathering or another. I had managed to avoid him ever since and…” Richard made a mirthless smile. “I practically stalked him until he slipped away to the privy, where I waylaid him. I asked him how he was and apologized profusely enough to embarrass the both of us quite thoroughly.”

“
Did
he forgive you?” It was too much to hope, wasn’t it?

“Immediately, and easily, in fact. He had apparently forgiven me years ago after he realized he had behaved quite badly too. It was all rather disappointing in a way. I think I had been looking forward to a good thrashing, but I should have known better. He was always so sweet natured and kind.”

Richard’s expression became pleasantly thoughtful. Henry felt something suspiciously like jealousy. He clenched his jaw and willed away such nonsense.

“And what about you?” Richard said.

Henry shot him an amused look. “I think you know ‘what about me.’ You were there, if you recall.”

“No, I’m not talking about tonight.” Richard gave up the pretense of eating and placed his plate back on the tray. “When I asked you earlier if you had been with anyone, you said not before tonight, but ‘almost once.’ What about the ‘almost once’?”

Henry felt nauseated. He had never told anyone. He had tried never to even think of that day so many years ago, and had managed rather well, if he did say so himself. But…but Richard had confided in him. It made absolutely no sense, and perhaps he was allowing foolish sentiment to run away with him, but the fact that Richard had shared that story with him made him feel good, trusted. He felt an overwhelming urge to return the sentiment.

And it wasn’t as if he would ever see Richard again.

“You caught that, I see.” Henry sighed. “It wasn’t really anything, barely anything at all. Really.”

“A consummate storyteller, I see.” Richard chuckled. “You have me enthralled already.”

It was easy for Henry to let that beautiful smile relax him. He forced some of the tension out of his back and let himself sink farther into his chair. Where on earth did he even begin? He supposed there wasn’t much need for detail.

“I wanted to go away to school when I was fifteen. I had always had private tutors as my father wanted, but I had few companions my own age, and I was terribly bored. I eventually convinced him, and my mother was supportive despite my already being so close to university anyway. So I went and…eh…”

“You met someone,” Richard said.

“Yes. It was all very quiet in a strange way. What I mean is, I don’t think we ever actually said anything directly. It was all looks and touches in the passageways, and…we just
knew
.”

Richard waited.

Henry swallowed hard. His tongue was already turning to cotton. “One day, classes let out early, and the rest of the boys went to set up an impromptu game of cricket. The numbers were off, and five or six of us were left to be spectators. He…he gave me a look that was not mistakable and went walking toward the chapel. I followed him all the way to the back of the chapel and down to the cellar stairs. He kept looking back at me every few seconds to smile.”