Page 48 of Enemies with an Earl
“You could improve your form slightly, though,” Thorne murmured. He shifted over until his thigh pressed harder against Felix’s.
Felix stiffened, and his hand bumped into the keys, unleashing a discordant clamor. Thorne shot him an amused glance. “Christ, you’re always so starched up. If you adjusted your hand slightly, like this…” He mimed the form with his own hand.
Felix followed suit. Not that he could do anything else. His mind was buzzing. Thorne was much too close. For Felix’s sanity. If anyone were to walk in. Devonford wasn’t safe, like home. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck.
“More like this.” Thorne reached out and adjusted Felix’s hand.
Felix jerked his hand away and quickly put a foot of space between them, which nearly had him sliding right off the bench.
Something hard flashed in Thorne’s gaze, and his jaw instantly clamped shut.
Felix’s fingers fidgeted on the leather bench seat. “So, it’s not very typical for a master to permit his servants to touch his pianoforte,” he said, trying to distract himself from the urge to continually check the room for onlookers. “Even his well-trusted valet.”
“I’ve already mentioned my and Ash’s relationship isn’t your customary servant-master dynamic,” Thorne said stiffly.
Felix eyed him. “Yes. You had said best friends. Practically brothers. How exactly does a valet develop that sort of relationship with his master?” It was odd. Suspicious…
At first, Felix had thought there wasmoreto their relationship. But Thorne had cleared that up. So, what on earth could create such a close friendship?
“My valet has served me since I inherited and served my father before me for most of his life. He has not once referred to me by my first name, never once broken decorum.”
“You ask a lot of questions, Bentley.”
“LordBentley,” Felix quickly corrected, gaze shooting to the doorway. He let out a slow breath. Empty doorway. He asked a lot of questions because the man wasn’t forthwith with answers. Felix didn’t like secrets. A man keeping a secret from him burned him in his past. Almost had been the end of him—
“Ah, yes. Of course. How could I forget my place?” Thorne’s cutting sarcasm ripped through Felix’s thoughts.
Thorne abruptly stood, sending the bench rocking, and Felix had to grab the edge to steady himself.
He dipped a shallow bow. “If you’ll excuse me,my lord. I apologize for my lapse in etiquette.”
Felix winced at Thorne’s retreating back. He hadn’t realized a person’s walk could say so much. But he had a very good feeling that man’s clipped walk was a silent curse aimed straight at Felix.
Or maybe that was just the guilt gnawing away at his gut.
25
Sam
SamknockedonLordBentley’s door at quarter to eleven. He blew out his lips and rolled his eyes at himself. He was being foolish, yet again. He had pushed this off for far too long. After the muffled “Enter” reached his ears, he gathered his tallywags and stepped into the bedchamber.
Lord Bentley was at the small desk against the far-right wall, setting his quill down on some parchment. He stood and clasped his hands behind his back. The candlelight flickered off his freckled cheeks, shadowing his eyes, but Sam thought he saw hesitance reflecting in those amber irises.
And then Sam swept his gaze down the man and nearly groaned. Bloody hell. The man was in the shirt Sam left out for him, the one Bentley had needed to borrow because he was out of clean clothing, not having anticipated a long stay. And the only person with a shirt who would fit those broad shoulders? Sam. So here Sam was, in the man’s bedchamber, the man in question wearing Sam’s clothes. And he was fucking delectable in them. The breeches were a tad loose. But that just lent for easier removal. Sam mentally chastised himself. Not what he was here for.
“I wanted to apologize, my lord.”
Bentley’s eyebrows drew together softly, and he shook his head. “There’s nothing to apologize for, Thorne.”
That wasn’t true. Sam had stormed off like a petulant child earlier. “I overreacted in the grand hall. I was vexed over something I had no right to be vexed over. Therewasnothing to be vexed over,” he clarified. “It was irrational, and I apologize.”
Bentley opened his mouth and hesitated. Then finally said, “Perhaps it was…but it doesn’t mean I don’t understand why.” He took a step closer, then halted. “There’s a large disparity in power here,” he said quietly, his hand gesturing between them. “And based on what has…occurred…between us, I understand that my correction earlier, the way I flinched at your touch, came off as demeaning, as…”
Disgusted. Ashamed. Embarrassed.Sam filled in the blanks. Because Bentley was correct. That was how it had felt. Sam had already been raw, opening himself up and playing pianoforte in front of the man. And for some reason, this man had him all turned around. He felt inside out, offering all the soft, most sensitive parts of himself for abuse. And the rejection had stung especially sharp when it had come.
“For that, I want to apologize,” Bentley said, brow furrowed beseechingly. Almost like he actually did care how Sam felt.
Sam shook that off. “I understand why you behaved that way.” He truly did. He knew sensitivity to rejection was just a product of his past. Sam wouldn’t ever take something like that lightly, even if he’d been the one in the wrong in that situation. “Ash and I may do things differently around here, but we’ve been like this for over two decades, and the staff doesn’t know it any different.”
