The Hunt Club Chronicles Bundle (17 page)

Curiosity ate at Terrance. “Did the duke house his mistress here?”

Finnegan stood up straight. “She was a fine lady. Very elegant. We were very sad to see her go.”

“Of course.”

So the Duke of Byworth had discarded his mistress around the time Terrance and Henry had joined his household and removed them all to the country. Terrance stifled a laugh. What a sentimental fool Byworth was, after all. He’d never delay three years to get the man he wanted in his bed.

Again, Lewes popped into his head. This time he was kneeling before him, hands bound behind his back with ugly iron shackles—dark, unsmiling eyes ever watchful. Terrance grimaced. Lewes had been his most problematic gentleman caller during his time at the Hunt Club. His resistance to being dominated, the very act he paid Terrance handsomely to perform, had made the chore so much harder to carry out.

But some men were never comfortable in their own skin. Lewes’ aversion to touch had proved a challenge during the duke’s weekly visits. Terrance did not get aroused easily by the use of restraints alone. He preferred eager partners. Partners who wanted to touch him in exchange for the pleasure he offered. Lewes hadn’t.

His dark eyes had revealed little of the man beneath the polished exterior, even during sex. Only his groan, ejaculation, and return visit proved he’d enjoyed their time together. The only emotion he’d seen him display was fury.

Terrance had yet to meet one man that met his particular needs—none in
England
, at any rate. Which was why he was so keen to travel, to see new vistas, and to explore new cultures first hand. To find a man who wanted him and liked him just as he was—with no stage or acting used to entice him to come back.

Terrance shook himself out of his thoughts as the butler shuffled off down the hallway and hurried after.

Finnegan gestured to a room. “This is the main bedchamber. I think you’ll be comfortable here.”

Terrance walked inside and whistled. The room was perfect and far above what he was used to. Light burst through drapes drawn wide, sparkling off a crystal chandelier hung from the high molded ceiling. A wide, plush bed dominated the center of the room. He could get lost in all that bedding.

Beside him, Finnegan chuckled. “Tis quite a grand room, is it not?”

“That it is.” Terrance hesitated to accept. “But it’s particularly feminine. Is there another chamber?”

“None quite so nice. This way.”

Finnegan showed him the remainder of the floor and he was correct. The master suite far outstripped the others with style and comforts. They circled back toward the master suite. He couldn’t really pass up the chance to sleep in there. He’d look stupidly foolish in the extreme.

He caught Finnegan’s eye. “This will do, after all.”

The servant grinned broadly. “I thought you might change your mind, sir. I’ll bring your baggage up and unpack for you.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll settle myself. I’ll not need you to act as valet either.”

Finnegan frowned. “As you wish. Breakfast is usually served at eleven, supper at eight. Is that acceptable?”

“That would be wonderful. No need to change the way things are run on my account.” Terrance spun about and hurried down the stairs to retrieve his baggage. There was no point putting the older man into an early grave by running him ragged on his first day.

Besides, this errand would prevent Terrance from inadvertently revealing how much a change in his situation living here was going to be with another incautious remark. He’d hardly ever had the assistance of a servant for his personal needs. Quite likely, he wouldn’t know what to request.

He grabbed up his burdens and took the stairs two at a time.

Finnegan chuckled, “Aye, to be in me prime again. You seem a fit young man.”

Terrance smiled as he strode into his room and deposited his possessions on the bed. “I’ve always been restless. I cannot wait to be underway again.”

Finnegan shuffled further into the room until he stood opposite. “Are you leaving us so soon?”

Terrance flipped open his trunk and removed the first of his clothes carefully. Thanks to Byworth's generosity, he'd be replacing all of them soon. Until he did, he'd care for his possessions as he always had—as if they were his only concern. “I’m traveling to the continent as soon as I attend to a few personal matters and book passage.”

 Finnegan’s smile faltered. “You young men, always traveling hither and yon on short trips. We’ll be here waiting when you get back?”

“Of course.”
Terrance didn’t correct him as to the length of his trip. If everything went to plan, Terrance wouldn’t return at all. He fingered the key in his waistcoat pocket. Damn Lewes and his strange behavior. The key foisted upon his friend Henry, to pass along to him, niggled at his conscience. He’d have to return it somehow before he left
England
. He didn’t like to leave matters unresolved.

He crossed the room, pushing Lewes’ key out of his mind, and set his hand to the old man’s shoulder. “Why don’t you head downstairs? I’ll get myself settled in and then come down to the library. I’d like to meet your wife before I do a spot of shopping.”

Finnegan didn’t smile. “If there’s nothing else I can do for you, sir?”

“There’s not,” Terrance assured him. Yet he was uneasy at dismissing the older man. Finnegan might long to be useful, as Terrance once had. He’d have to relax his control and think of something the butler could do for him.

As the old man shuffled out, Terrance sank onto the bed. Of all the foolish things—getting concerned about an old man’s hurt feelings. He shook off the irrational sentimentality and returned to his trunks. It took little time to deposit his clothes into the large oak dresser drawers. He didn’t have very much to his name. But he had the Duke of Byworth’s cold, hard coin with which to rectify the lack.

Starting this afternoon.

Chapter Three

 The vast, cold emptiness of
London
dragged at Aiden body. His fellow dukes would laugh to know he hovered on the edge of melancholy. But Aiden lacked the will to care. He was the Duke of Lewes. That name meant something. Once. Perhaps to the last Duke of Lewes, his father. But to Aiden it was an anchor pulling him lower, downward to his doom. Suffocating. Smothering him in responsibility and duty. Nothing mattered the way it should. There was no relief for him.

He pulled the curtain aside and peered out onto the
London
streets. At this time of day, the streets teamed with gentlemen and pickpockets, ladies and servants. The whores would come later when the blanketing darkness hid their sallow complexions and their gaunt hunger for money at any cost.

His gaze shifted restlessly over the footpath. A tall, dark-haired gentleman strolled down the street with a jaunty hitch in his step and ducked into a bookshop doorway. Despite the great distance, Aiden’s first thought was of Archer. He sat up and stared as the carriage drew closer. He caught a glimpse of tousled long black hair, fine fitted clothing and an easy going smile offered up to the ancient proprietor. Archer didn’t smile, but even from this distance the resemblance was strong.

The carriage lurched as Aiden reached for the door handle. He curled his fingers into a fist to contain his distress. Three years with no word, with no hint of Archer’s whereabouts aside from discovering the other missing whore in service to the Duke of Byworth at his country estate.

Archer wasn’t likely to be in
London
. He was informed that Archer was as far from Aiden as he could possibly get. He’d failed to acquire any new information regarding his whereabouts from the Duke of Byworth's servant. He could have pressed, threatened, and hurt the man. But doing so would have angered the Duke of Staines further. Aiden was not so foolish as to offend the closest and most powerful friend he had left. So he'd backed down, albeit reluctantly. Yet the stress of his lover’s absence tortured him because he'd driven the man away as surely as he'd tooled the carriage.

“Is everything all right, Your Grace?”

Aiden glanced at Robert across from him. His late brother’s son regarded him with a worried frown. Aiden uncurled his hand and forced his mouth into an apologetic smile for the young man’s benefit. “Thought I saw someone I knew once.”

“Ah.” Robert lapsed into silence.

The trouble with being a duke was that conversation tended to die when he needed it most. He’d never managed the knack for idle conversation and, at times like this, he cursed his stubborn tongue. He could certainly use the distraction as the carriage rumbled along
James Street
toward the Hunt Club. The last place he saw Archer.

Although Aiden would rather be anywhere else than here, he did have a duty to his brother’s boy, his heir. And today it was to see to his deflowering. The Hunt Club whores would do the deed with little fuss and could be relied upon to be free of disease. The club had strict standards—unlike Lady Russell.

After today’s goal had been accomplished, he’d warn Robert away from her with plain facts so as not to leave any doubt about where his best interests lie. The Hunt Club whores were less trouble until Robert settled on a woman to marry.

Robert’s breath churned as the carriage rolled to a stop. Aiden met his gaze. “Best be quick about it so your mother remains clueless. There will be few in the club at this hour so you may be assured of relative privacy. Come find me in the Grand Salon when you’re done.”

With that small encouragement, Aiden stepped out of the carriage and rushed up the steps of the Hunt Club. The exclusive gentleman’s club had once been his second home in
London
, but now each visit was tainted with memories and regrets. He handed off his hat and gloves, and watched Robert do the same while fumbling with his invitation.

Aiden winked at the major domo.

An understanding smile crossed his features and his nephew was led into the bowels of the house for his deflowering. Aiden turned for the Grand Salon and a much needed distraction.

At this hour, the club, all dark wood and leather chairs, was nigh on deserted, but across the room the Duke of Staines sat in conversation with the club’s manager. Aiden squared his shoulders and weaved his way through the chairs to join him.
Redding
, the Duke of Staines’ footman, alerted his master to his approach.

Staines
ended his conversation and offered a broad smile. “Lewes, good to see you out and about again. I feared I'd have to stage an abduction to remove you from your house and the lovely, Mrs. Banks. Has she taken over the place completely?”

Aiden winced. “
Staines
,
Redding
.” He'd rather not talk about Josephine now he was free of her scowls. He took a seat, but caught the worried glance exchanged between the two men. The mirror told Aiden he looked as dreadful as he felt, but it pained him that his friend was concerned.
Redding
retreated a few yards.

Staines
leaned forward. “Dine with me tonight?”

Aiden shook his head. “I have my nephew staying with me. He’s of a mind to visit
Covent Garden
later and I cannot, in good conscience, let him go alone. Not until he is a little better acquainted with
London
.”

Staines
winced. “I’d be happy to accompany you, but it’s a damn noisy place. Far too many pickpockets and whores for my taste.”