Page 40 of Moonlight Encounter
The other heir broke eye contact, staring down at his lap. “I … cannot be at home right now. There are … issues.”
Aidan cocked his head. Trafford was clearly uncomfortable. “Are you staying at the club?”
A nod was the only response. Aidan did not welcome the feeling of empathy that developed slowly, like a fire being lit in the hearth. Apparently, they both had problems they were not discussing.
Trafford shook his head as if to discard his thoughts before leaning on the table. “But what of you, Little Breeches? You appear melancholy and your bride awaits.”
Aidan cleared his throat, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I think you know, considering your charming little sobriquet for me.”
This pronouncement was followed by silence. A hand entered into his peripheral vision to grab his drink, which was pulled away. The sound of swallowing followed before Trafford finally spoke. “It is true, then?”
Aidan nodded, a flush of embarrassment heating his skin.
“You have never … lain with a woman?”
He gave another reluctant nod.
Trafford sighed. “I suspected this was the case. There was no mention of women from anyone. There was even speculation that you … Well, never mind that. I have seen how you look at Miss Sm—Lady Abbott—so it is painfully clear that you prefer women. Why have you never …?”
By Jupiter, this is an uncomfortable subject!
Aidan had been away from England for so long that he had no close friends to speak with about it. The fact that henow discussed it with Trafford of all people was a waking nightmare, but somehow, considering the other man’s vast experience, there was something mildly comforting about finally admitting the truth of it. “I believe that such an activity should be shared by two people who care for each other. I never met a woman I wished to commit to … until Gwen.”
Trafford was quiet for several seconds before huffing out a laugh. “A man with standards. I am calling for another drink so I may toast that which Diogenes only dreamed of—I have found an honest man.”
Aidan groaned. “I am deceiving my bride, so not as honest as I would wish to be.”
“That aside, I think it is endearing, Little Breeches. You come from an upstanding family and you have morals. There is nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I am not ashamed. Unless”—Aidan leaned forward, his hands curling into fists—“you decide to share this conversation, in which case I will beat you within an inch of your life.”
Trafford’s lips quirked into a smile. “This conversation is our secret. I am just profoundly impressed with my ability to gather gossip. When I first asked around about you, the thought had crossed my mind, but I dismissed it as implausible. Turns out I am quite the investigator.”
“Fantastic! Find a murderer other than Smythe, then. It would save Gwen a lot of pain if we find someone else with a motive.”
“I am working on it. Ridley is rather dear to me, old chap.”
Aidan rolled his shoulders once more. “I suppose I should go home and …” He made a vague gesture that approximated the task at hand.
“There is a book in my rooms that might assist you.”
Trafford jumped to his feet and swiftly left the area. Within a few minutes, he returned, retaking his seat and placing a leather-bound book on the table. Aidan picked it up and frowned in confusion.
“I am quite the scholar, Trafford, but even I do not read Sanskrit.”
Trafford shook his head as if Aidan were an imbecile. Leaning over, he opened the book and began to flip through the pages. “There are illustrations, Little Breeches.”
Aidan drew the book closer and scanned the images Trafford had revealed, growing hot under the collar when he realized what he was looking at. The figures were engaged in lewd and explicit activities.
“Is this legal?”
“The activities are, for the most part. The book itself—probably not.”
“I know the mechanics of the deed. I do not need these.” He pushed the book toward Trafford.
Trafford snickered and slid it back. “There are many different ways to accomplish the task. Trust me, and pay attention to the illustrations.”
Aidan took the book and quickly pocketed it. He would hire a hackney and explore the images in privacy.
