Read A Private Gentleman Online
Authors: Heidi Cullinan
said he was, and his smile died. “I want to see him. Please—I need to see him.”
He did not like the way she hesitated. “You will, but not yet. Let him be
ready. Let him become a little stronger.”
“But I want to help him,” Michael protested.
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A strange shadow passed over her face. When she spoke, it startled him at
how soft she had become, how she could not look him in the eye. “As one who
has witnessed a loved one in this state, I advise you to wait. It is a s-special kind of hell to see them too s-s-soon.” She shut her eyes. “And if they d-d-on’t make it
all the way through, it is unb-b-bearable.”
Now it was Michael who squeezed her hand. “Very well,” he said quietly. “I
will trust your judgment. For now.”
She rose, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “I must get back to him
now. But I will come by soon to hear your tale.”
She gave him a smile and a nod goodbye, but as she headed for the door, an
idea struck Michael, and he called out, “Wait! Wait—I have something I wish
you to give him.” He rushed past her, pausing to touch her arm. “You will wait?
It’s up in my room.”
“I will wait,” she promised.
He hurried as best he could, afraid she would disappear, afraid that Rodger
would shout her out before he returned. They were only glaring at one another
in the front hallway as he entered it, and so he pressed the glass jar into her arms.
“What is this?” she asked, looking confused.
“He will know. Tell him I did my best, but that I expect him to take over
from here. And tell him—” A lump in his throat caught, but he pushed past it.
“Tell him I expect him to show me how it blooms.”
“Michael,” Rodger warned, “don’t let him drag you back in. He already hurt
you once. If you go back to that no-good—”
Michael stepped forward hastily and clapped a hand over Rodger’s mouth as
Barrington’s body went taut. “Don’t, Rodger. I believe she truly will hit you. And
you’re ugly enough as it is without a broken tooth to boot.”
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Rodger glared at Barrington, then looked pleadingly at Michael. “Don’t let
him hurt you again.”
Michael smiled and kissed Rodger on the cheek. “Thank you, mother hen.
But I’ll be fine.” He turned back to Miss Barrington. “Besides, I won’t be seeing
him anytime soon, it seems.”
“I will endeavor to make it as soon as I possibly can,” she promised. “And I
will give him this and tell him what you said.” She gave one last warning look to
Rodger, then turned to several large men Michael did not recognize, men who
he’d thought were new bodyguards of Rodger’s but indeed they appeared to be
hers. “We should go. Traffic will be ghastly at this time of day.”
They left, and Michael felt as if it was his heart in that jar being carried away.
Rodger sighed heavily and put his arm around Michael. “I hope to God he’s
worth it, ducks.”
“He is.” Michael leaned on Rodger’s shoulder and watched Penelope
Barrington’s coach drive off into the evening fog. “He is.”
Three weeks later, Wes sat in the sitting room of Penny’s house, waiting for
Michael to come.
“There’s no reason to be nervous.” Penny rested her hand on Wes’s shoulder
as she sat beside him. “It’s Michael, not the devil.” Her hand squeezed lightly.
“And he’s lovely. Handsome, charming, and unless I am completely fooled,
utterly in love with you.”
Wes smiled wryly despite his nerves but kept his eyes on the door to the hall.
Eventually footsteps sounded, and Penny urged him to his feet.
“Look sharp, Wes. He’s coming.”
Rising unsteadily, Wes faced the opening door. The fears roared inside Wes,
nearly weighing him down. He could not help his nerves, nor could he his fears.
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What if he had waited too long? What if Michael found him weak? What if he
couldn’t forgive Wes because of his father?
What if someone else had come along, and Michael loved him instead?
Michael appeared in the door, and Wes forgot to breathe.
Beautiful—he was so beautiful, as beautiful as ever. He was dressed more
soberly than he ever had been before, even on outings, but he still looked so
smart and handsome that Wes wanted to take him up in his arms and spin him
around, he was so lovely. His beautiful face, his thin, sensual lips, his glowing
cheeks, his bright, large eyes—Wes could not stop his smile. Michael wore his
spectacles. They only added to his charm.
Wes’s eyes widened, and before he could stop himself, the words tumbled
out of his mouth. “You c-cut your hair.”
Michael had been hovering in the doorway, looking quietly uncertain, but
now he seemed very self-conscious, and his hand lifted up to his shorn hair. “I’m
sorry. I was angry.”
Wes smiled, no artifice, and shook his head. “I l-like it. It s-suits you.”
Michael’s hand ran along his hairline again, then lowered. He smiled, but
hesitantly. “It’s easier, I confess.” Clasping his hands together in front of himself, he rocked slightly on his heels. “Are you well, my lord?”
My lord.
Wes’s smile melted away, and he tried to mask his hurt, but he
wasn’t sure he succeeded.
My lord. We will be formal now? Have you only come to
say goodbye?
He replaced his smile as best he could, and offered a nod. “Y-yes.
Th-th-th—”
Yes, thank you, my beloved. Come here so I may embrace you properly.
Wes stopped, shut his eyes and started to turn away.
When he opened his eyes, he saw the orchid thriving in the sun beside his
bed. He gathered his courage and turned to face his lover again.
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“Please come in,” Penny said to Michael, “and have a seat.”
She directed Michael to the chair beside Wes’s sofa, and Michael placed
himself primly on the front part of the chair. He looked ready to bolt. Wes sat as
well, though he mirrored Michael’s position. He foresaw half an hour of stilted,
painful conversation ahead of him. His only consolation was that Penny would
be there to keep things from being too stilted and awkward.
Except she was heading toward the door.
“I’ll leave the two of you alone,” she said, a sparkle in her eyes. “Ring if you
need anything, but other than that, I’ll be sure to see you’re not disturbed.”
Horrified, Wes stared at the door, watching her leave. When the door shut,
he turned, palms sweating, to Michael.
Michael smiled—a little thinly. Was he nervous, or was he uncomfortable
because he didn’t want to be here?
Michael cleared his throat. “You look—” He stopped, hesitated, biting his
lip. “You look too thin.”
Was that worry in his tone, or horror? Wes smoothed his hands over his
thighs nervously. “Th-the op-p-p—” His hands shook, and he shut his eyes. God
help him, he wasn’t ready, he should never have done this—
A warm hand closed over his knee. “Where is your pad and pencil?”
Wes laughed darkly and shook his head. “N-n-no. Sh-sh-sh—” He stopped,
drew a breath and let it out.
Calm. Calm. You can do this.
“I’m m-m-meant to t-t-t-try and r-relax.” He sighed, a ragged exhale. “I’m-m s-s-s-sorry. I th-th-ought I
w-w-was b-b-better.”
The hand on his knee stroked gently. “But why—?” The hand hesitated, then
made as if to withdraw. “Is it I making you nervous, Albert?”
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Wes’s eyes snapped open. Squeezing Michael’s hand, he searched for his
words and a sense of calm.
I’m sorry, Michael. Sorry for leaving you. Sorry for being
gone so long. Sorry for my father. For my clumsiness. For my failures.
“I l-love you,” Wes said.
For a moment Michael stared at him, his expression fixed, his eyes wide.
Then they filled with water, and Michael leaned forward, took gentle hold of
Wes’s chin and kissed him. Wes opened his mouth to Michael and reached up to
touch the back of his lover’s neck.
Michael made a soft mew, shivered and slid onto Wes’s lap.
“I was so frightened for you,” he whispered. “I thought you were lost. I
thought you were dead.” His arms tightened around Wes. “I thought you didn’t
want me.”
“I’m s-s-sorry. I w-w-was w-w-w-weak. I’m s-s-s-sorry.” Wes clung to his
lover. “I’m s-s-s-sorry f-f-f-for my f-f-father.”
“I don’t give a damn about your father,” Michael cried. “I only want you,
Albert. Only you.” He nuzzled deeper into the collar of Wes’s dressing gown. “I
love you too.”
Wes shut his eyes and held him close. As Penny had warned him, he was
tired, completely exhausted in fact. But Michael was here now. Michael was here,
and he loved him.
It was medicine more heady than any opiate could ever be.
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Chapter Sixteen
“I m-missed you.”
The words, Albert’s words, the ones he had so longed to hear, rumbled from
his lover’s chest, and Michael smiled, his head upon Albert’s shoulder as he
reached out to trace his nipple. “I missed you too.”
“Th-Thank you for taking care of my o-orchid.”
Michael glanced at the glass jar on the shelf near the window, where the
orchid was indeed thriving once more. “It was my pleasure.”
“I worried you w-w-would not come.” Albert’s fingers teased in Michael’s
hair. “I f-feared I had w-waited too l-long.”
“No.” Michael turned and kissed Albert’s salty skin.
Albert looked sad. “I’m s-sorry for my f-father,” he said again. He didn’t
know that he could ever say it enough.
Michael pressed a finger against Albert’s lips. “You have no cause to
apologize for what he did. You aren’t Daventry. Not even close.”
Albert’s smile turned black. “For so many years, that w-was my p-prison. W-
wanting to be D-Daventry.” His fingers teased Michael’s hair. “To be good
enough for him.”
Michael shut his eyes against the pleasant sensation of Albert’s touch. “Your
stammer is so much improved.”
“Penny has t-taught me tricks.” He kissed Michael’s hair. “I ap-pologize I
couldn’t use them earlier. I was too nervous that you w-would not want me.”
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Michael laughed and slid his naked leg up along Albert’s thigh. “I hope I’ve
put that fear to rest?”
“Mmm.” Albert’s hand slid down Michael’s back to the top of his bottom. “I
m-may require a rem-minder.”
“Anytime, darling.” Michael rolled over slightly to press his body closer, but
he looked up at his lover in earnest. “Will you go home now?”
Albert looked away. “I c-can’t.”
Michael tensed. “But why not? Are you—do you fear you will go back to the
opium again?”
Albert’s hand stroked idly against Michael’s naked hip for several seconds
before he responded. “Sometimes. But I kn-know now the true issue is wh-what
drives me to it.” He stilled, then sagged helplessly. “I c-cannot face my f-father.
N-not kn-knowing what he has done to you.”
It upset Michael to hear this.
Dejected him, even—it wasn’t that he’d wanted a champion, but that Albert
feared his father? Hid from him? Hid more now than before?
Leave it alone,
a voice cautioned quickly in Michael’s mind, but he could not.
He would admit he had hoped…for anger, perhaps, or for Albert to decry his
father.
“You still fear him?”
The space between this question and Albert’s answer was vast and heavy.
Albert’s fingers strayed occasionally across Michael’s skin, but it was as if they
were thinking and considering too. Finally Albert spoke, his voice soft and slow
and careful, marked more than anything by not just what he said, but how
calmly he said it.
“Once I heard m-my father b-boast to another lord that his p-p-power and
will was s-subject only to the Queen herself, and even there h-he thought he had
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more leeway than m-m-most. ‘I c-can have anything I w-want in this world,’ he
told his f-f-friend. ‘Whatever I d-d-desire from it is m-m-mine.’” His hand on
Michael’s body stilled again. “N-N-Never, not once, did I d-d-dream he would
use it to harm someone h-h-helpless.” His hand fell away from Michael. “F-Fear
him
? No. I h-hate him. I l-l-loathe him. I want to sp-spit in his face. But do I have f-fear of something else? Yes. I f-fear that I have been t-timid so long that now,
now w-w-when it truly matters, I will try to f-face him and be cowardly out of h-
h-habit.”
Michael moved out of Albert’s embrace but did not leave his side. He
pushed himself up on both hands, sliding his body against Albert’s, needing to
keep him close. His soul felt so full, so warm—for once, it was he who could not
make the words leave his mouth. “I would n—” He stroked Albert’s cheeks. “I
would not ask you to face him. You need not—I do not need defending, my
love.”
Albert drew Michael against him, capturing a hand and kissing it softly. “It