Page 38 of A Gentleman's Wager
The question he had to ask himself though, was how did he feel about Vaughan? Yes, he enjoyed the other fellow’s company, always had. Vaughan made life interesting. He was as mercurial as he was inventive. He kept everyone on their toes – servants, acquaintances, intimates. As to whether there was more than friendship between them, or if he wished there to be, that was altogether trickier to elucidate.
Yes. But no.
How could they? He ought to scourge himself for even contemplating the possibility.
Lucerne placed his fingertips at his temples.
He’d known. He’d known this moment would arrive, ever since the point of extending the invitation to Vaughan to join him here. From the moment Vaughan arrived, Lucerne had felt his gaze, felt it in his chest and in the quickening of his breath, felt it in the buzz of arousal that he never quite seemed able to shake.
Was that what was motivating his pursuit of Bella? Was it simply easier to seek the familiar embrace of a woman than allow himself to contemplate the sort of darkling pleasures that could see him hang? What sort of man was he to use a woman as a shield? Not that he wasn’t drawn to Bella, indeed, he was rather looking forward to them doing some praying with their knees up together. If the evidence of their earlier tryst was anything to go on, he rather thought she’d go as if she cracked nuts with her tail, and he’d always respected a woman who appreciated robust loving.
He would have to tread carefully though. It wouldn’t do to set Bella head-to-head for his affections with Vaughan, nothing good would come of that. The marquis could be as vindictive as he was kind, and Bella Rushdale, well, he suspected she could be stubborn to the point of perversity. Her brother certainly hadn’t given him any reason to think otherwise. In fact, Joshua had more or less told him that was the case yesterday eve over billiards, while he was not so subtly sounding Lucerne out over his intentions towards his sister.
The man wouldn’t be half so enthusiastic over the prospect if he had even the vaguest iota of what was in Lucerne’s head at present.
He’d tried all manner of things to cleanse his mind, but none of them ever worked. Might haves and impossibilities still littered his thoughts.
Prior to his arrival at Lauwine, the last time Lucerne had seen Vaughan was in Rome three years back. The marquis had been living there for several months when Lucerne arrived and had instantly welcomed his old friend. They’d combined their pleasures. At night they gambled, whored and drank, while by day they admired the artistry of their surroundings. Then one evening, as the sun set on the fields outside the city, everything had changed.
A night at the card tables had ended with them back at their lodgings surrounded by a dozen or more wine bottles and the remains of a late supper. Lucerne couldn’t remember precisely what had sparked what followed. Retrospectively he knew he’d been worse for wear. At the time, all he’d been aware of was the delicate touch of Vaughan’s agile fingers against his inner thigh, and the pleasure that brought. Light caresses on the fabric of his breeches, as the moon flowed like liquid silver into the sky. Touches that grew bolder when they weren’t brushed away, and soon danced up and down his shaft with the expertise of a Parisian whore.
He expelled an explosive gasp as the memory of that pleasure burst into the present. He was ramrod stiff and aching for release. Tentatively, Lucerne thrust a hand beneath the sheets and grasped his prick. He’d been doing so much cock polishing of late it was a wonder he hadn’t sprained his wrist.
He recalled the surprise he’d felt at being touched by another man. The confusion over his enjoyment of it. At the time, Vaughan hadn’t given him time to think. He’d pushed him on to the bed and stripped him of his breeches. Then, he’d kissed his ruddy plum before sucking him deep. It was the best fellatio Lucerne had received in his life, and he was no saint. He’d toured the brothels of countless cities, courted the favours of expensive courtesans: none of that had come close to the way Vaughan had made him feel when he’d sucked his cock that night.
The next morning, he’d run away. He’d packed his bags, made his excuses, and run as far from Rome and Vaughan as he could manage. That had been in 94. Now here they were, years later, and he was about to die a little death just from the memory of them being together. What was he supposed to do? How could he live around Vaughan if his presence affected him so powerfully? Equally, how could he deny himself the pleasure?
It took moments and very little work from him to spend. His straining prick was powerfully primed, his mind awash with old memories and new.
Lucerne lifted the towel from the washstand and wryly mopped his own stomach. It was such a long time ago, and only one night out of a thousand he and Vaughan had spent together. Maybe he didn’t need to worry about it at all. A path would open for him. He wasn’t sure he believed in destiny, but life pursued one mercilessly whether you were ready for it or not. He’d face it with an open-mind, willing to acknowledge the past without being beholden to it.
Tomorrow would bring what tomorrow would bring…
Likely enough, it’d be a further headache.
-25-
Bella
No dimwit, Bella checked the stables shortly after she rose, and thus confirmed what she already suspected. That not only was her brother already home, but it was also highly unlikely he’d been further than three miles up the road, let alone to Richmond and back. She could only assume that the gentlemen over at Lauwine had met for some sport or other entertainment deemed unsuitable for female participation, hence their removal to Wyndfell Grange.
The atmosphere on their return to Lauwine seemed to confirm this. A numbing sort of disquiet had settled over the old hall and its environs, which couldn’t purely be attributed to the return of the driving rain. Joshua sloped off to the billiards room the moment they arrived, leaving Bella and Louisa to make their way upstairs to the winter parlour. Only Charles sat within. He was dozing beneath a newspaper. The fire was dead in the grate. He blinked rheumily at them and gave an irritable huff, before closing his eyes once again. Bella sighed and set to with the bellows in the hope of rekindling the blaze. They were all perished after the short journey, and on cold days it was all too evident that Lauwine hadn’t yet thawed from long years of neglect. The building creaked and groaned, and damp vapours seemed to seep from every crevice.
“Wherever is everyone?” Bella asked. She didn’t care about Pennerley or Wakefield, though Louisa was keen to see the latter, but she had some unfinished business with Lucerne that she’d rather hoped to pursue. It was rather a shock to find he hadn’t greeted them on arrival.
Charles lowered the broadsheet so that it sat across his middle like a lap blanket. “Let’s see, Pennerley’s indisposed, Wakefield’s tired, and Marlinscar has gone God only knows where to do heaven knows what in this torrential filth. I’m half out of my mind with boredom that I don’t suppose you ladies are about to fix. I’ve never been one to grumble about the odd rainy day, but under such circumstances, company is everything.”
“Joshua’s downstairs,” Bella remarked, choosing not to take offence at Charles’s remarks.
“Rushdale, of course.” Charles folded the paper into something that vaguely resembled a hat then scurried out the door, jowls wobbling in glee. No doubt the two of them would while away the afternoon potting billiard balls.
Bella fell into the chair he’d vacated. The impression of his body remained in the leather to warm her rear.
“I suppose you mean to read your book again,” Louisa remarked, as she settled into the other armchair.
Predictably, Bella produced the tome from her reticule. She’d knitted it herself, and the wool was prone to stretching, so that it was now twice the size as when she’d constructed it. She was already some forty pages into her second read through ofThe Italian, and eager to be on to the more salacious parts. “It’s that or skittles in the salon.”
“Are there skittles in the salon?”
