An absurd notion tickled Sam’s brain as he realized that he was the only one present who knew the truth of all four of them. John had no idea about Richard and Henry, and Sam doubted either Henry or Richard had suspicions about John. Sam could just imagine it.
Oh, John. Did I forget to mention that Henry and good Lord Richard here are lovers? Henry, you know Lord Darnish. He enjoys my attentions and doesn’t believe he’s too good for me. Rather unlike you.
A strangled laugh escaped him.
“Something funny, Sam?” Henry asked, eyeing him.
Sam was ready to make something up, to keep their little stage performance going, but none of the people watching them were close enough to eavesdrop. A look at John, the beautiful, eloquent, passionate man who had made him crumble only hours before, solidified his resolve.
“Yes,” Sam replied. “This. I find
this
funny.”
Richard looked around, and then his gaze lingered on John before looking pointedly at Sam. “Don’t be foolish, Shaw. This mess will go away if you can keep your temper.”
“Rich—”
“My temper is just fine,” Sam said, cutting Henry off. To make his point, he smiled brightly and pretended to inspect his cuffs. “It is my mess, as you say, and I have done what I can to put it to rest. You do not have to do anything but be silent and let the ton believe you are the innocent victim of a hotheaded fool. But that should be easy for you, pretending to be something you aren’t when the moment suits you.”
Neither Henry or Richard were able to hide the startled looks they shot at John, the outsider in their little association. Sam could practically hear their thoughts grinding, frightened that Sam had finally lost his mind and his discretion.
Oh, don’t worry your pretty heads.
To John’s credit, he did not flinch. His expression suggested he either knew everything already or had no interest.
“Sam, for God’s sake,” Henry hissed. “Our, eh, disagreement is of no concern to anyone.”
“Especially me. Good day to you both. I hope this little performance was adequate for the gossips, because I think two humiliations at your hands are enough for me. Good-bye, Henry.” Sam’s voice cracked a little, and he wished he had left off sooner, but it was done. He smiled as if giving a cheery farewell and turned his mount to the center path. He did not look back.
“Sam.” John trotted his horse to match him. “Was that wise?”
“Probably not. Forgive me. I placed you in an awkward position. I know you and Richard are friends.” He felt suddenly sick. What if pressure from Richard encouraged John to distance himself?
“We have always been on friendly terms, yes, but it is nothing compared to…well, to us.” John’s cheeks turned crimson as he lowered his eyes. Sam’s unease vanished.
“I can’t believe it,” Sam said though his smile. “To think I worried all this time that you would find me gauche for blushing so easily, and here you are.”
“Shut up,” John muttered.
“Oh. A sensitive subject?” Sam could not help himself. “‘I’m afraid you have only yourself to blame. I can’t help it.’”
John gave Sam a warning look, but the heat behind it was of an entirely different sort. He swallowed and tried to adjust himself.
“It is two more days before the servants return to the house.” John watched him intently. “Stay with me again?”
Sam pressed his lips together to hold back the joyous yes that threatened to burst from him. Instead, he nodded several times like a fool and grinned to complete the image. Yes, he was a fool, but damned if he cared. As he watched John ride next to him, their eyes meeting in occasional caresses, he could not think of anything that would keep him from taking every ounce of this joy while he could.
* * * *
“He despises me.”
Flor shook her head. “No, no. Sam is just an old crosspatch at times, especially with people he thinks dislike him. Perhaps if you keep being friendly, he will realize—”
“I will try, my dear, really, but…” Evers—Elliot, as she now thought of him—rubbed his eyes and sighed. “I fear he will refuse me. Perhaps he will even refuse to see me so that I may make my offer.”
“Sam would not do that,” she assured him. “No matter how peevish he might be over something, he would never break propriety in such a way.”
“He was not thinking of propriety when he called Lord Brenleigh a coward within hearing of a dozen men.” He shut his mouth as if regretting his words but then released another heavy sigh. “Forgive me, my dear. I would not speak ill of your brother. Lord knows I gave him reasons to dislike me, but the man does have a temper. He is known for it. He is all propriety and rightness until something rubs him ill, and then he seems to lose all sense. Why, do you know how he injured his hand last month?”
Flor frowned. Sam had refused to talk about it, and their sister had only given her some vague answer about a broken glass. “No.”
“I said something to him at the wedding breakfast, though I can hardly remember what, and he crushed a glass in his hand. By my life, Flor, he crushed it like a man who wanted to crush something else. He quite despises me.”
Oh, no. No, no.
She shook her head again, but it could not dislodge the worry overcoming her. What if Elliot was right? What if Sam could not let go of this old childish dislike? She could not bear it! She had refused to let herself be hopeful at the start of the season and had even entertained Elliot’s attention with more than a few grains of salt, but these last two weeks had crushed her cynicism. The way Elliot talked to her and looked at her, like she was the most fascinating person in the world, had reached into her and taken hold. He had even admitted, with quite a bit of embarrassment, that his father had steered him in her direction because of her dowry, but that he was thankful for it else he would not have met her.
She loved him.
“But he can’t do that. I would insist. I will refuse to accept anyone else!”
“What encouragement would that be to him? He does not appear eager to marry you off, unlike many guardians. He is a good brother in that, to be sure. Oh, perhaps you are right. Perhaps I am just worrying too much. Tomorrow, when I call on him, we will know either way.”
“Yes,” she said, relieved. “Don’t worry, you will see. Sam would not forsake my happiness over some schoolboy quarrel.”
“You think so?” Elliot smiled, and once again Flor felt a strange ache low in her belly. Those blue eyes and golden locks. Sometimes he was too handsome for her to fathom.
Elliot snapped the reins and guided them out of the park. It would be only a few minutes more to her doorstep.
“I must ask, or I will go mad,” he said suddenly. “If by some chance he does refuse to see me, or refuses my suit, will you…will you leave with me?”
Her stomach dropped. “What?”
“Leave with me? We can go to Gretna Green and marry. My dear, my happiness is at the whim of a man who won’t forgive me for childhood indiscretions. I can’t let it fall from my fingers so easily. Tell me you will be my wife no matter what happens.”
Her stomach twisted again, as if she had already made the decision and was looking down the list of disasters to follow. Social ruin, Sam’s rage, her family’s humiliation. But other ladies had been married in such a manner.
“There would be no dowry,” she choked out, “My guardian must approve the match, and Sam would never give the dowry if I did such a thing.”
“Good,” Elliot said, raising his chin.
“G-good?”
“Yes. Then everyone would know my feelings for you. There would be no mean talk of a purchased marriage.” He transferred the reins to one hand took hers with the other. He pressed the backs of her gloved fingers to his lips. “Flor, say you will marry me no matter what.”
The house was within sight. The footman had already seen them and was coming down the steps. She felt she had to answer, as if this moment was the only one available. It might be, for if Sam refused to entertain Elliot tomorrow, she might never see him again.
“Yes,” she said. “I will, no matter what.”
Chapter Fifteen
Dark Rooms
John’s long years of practiced patience abandoned him as he fidgeted in the carriage seat. He had been curled around Sam not more than twelve hours ago, and yet he ached to be with him again already. Were it up to him, they would both be cloistered away in Lily’s empty house with a roaring fire, a basket of food, and not a stitch of clothing between them. The fact that Sam was seated across from him now, and once more decked out in expertly tailored evening apparel, only made it worse.
“Do you think Evers will make a show of it this evening with your sister?” John asked to distract himself.
“If his behavior in the park was anything to go by, I’m sure of it. I had a very frank and loud conversation with Kat this evening, and it seems he has been paying addresses to no one else at all. The match is probably done in everyone’s mind.”
John frowned. It was not, strictly speaking, his business. But it weighed heavily on Sam, and anything to do with Sam
felt
like his business now. “Is there anything I can do? Perhaps if I made a show of attending her?”
Sam shook his head. “No. Nothing short of dueling proposals would do anything at this point. Would that Flor had her eyes on someone else that I could encourage. Anyone else!” He thumped his fist against the seat. “Damn Evers. Greedy bastard.”
The look of distress on Sam’s face made John want to find Evers and wring his miserable neck. He opened his mouth, ready to give his thoughts on the matter, then closed it. Perhaps Sam would not like his advice.
“What?” Sam leaned forward. “An idea?”
“Nothing new. I’m afraid my cleverness with the gossips won’t be much use here. But if you want my opinion…”
“Yes?”
John drew a breath. “Tell him no. If your sister is as sensible as you say, she will get over it quickly enough. Or better still, tell him that he may ask for her on the understanding that there will be no dowry. That should send him running, and then your sister will see that he was only fortune hunting.”
John worried he had taken too much liberty. Then Sam smiled and reached across to squeeze his knee. The action was so intimate and casual at once that John could only grin like a fool.
“I had not even thought of that. You must know by now I am not the brightest fellow in trying circumstances. I make stupid quick decisions,” Sam grumbled.
“Like hiding yourself from me?”
Sam blushed. “That too, yes. I was wondering how I might convince Flor without breaking her heart, but seeing it for herself will be the best way, you’re right. I still dislike the possibility that she will be hurt, but better now than later. Yes, I think that’s what I’ll do. By my luck, if I can get him alone tonight I will not even have to bother being at home for him tomorrow.”
John nodded his agreement. A few moments of silence passed as they neared a theater and watched the arrivals leaving their carriages. Sam was worried about Flor, and John should focus on that, but he could no longer keep his interest in a different subject at bay. He leaned forward, hesitated, then decided to hell with it and placed his hand on Sam’s knee.
“Will you tell me about the trouble with Brenleigh?”
Sam tensed. “Oh, that. Yes.”
Hardly encouraging.
“I understand if you would rather not say.”
“No. I want to tell you. I don’t want to keep anything from you.”
John suppressed an odd burst of delight from that. There would be plenty of time later. “All right. What happened?”
Sam made a few false starts, hedging until he sighed. “It sounds so childish when I think of it now. But then I think of it too much, and it is anything but childish. Henry and I were friends at Harrow, though he came only in the last year. We were more than friends, if truth be told, though he would deny it, most likely.” Sam added the last in a bitter voice, but John hardly heard it. His mind had stopped at “more than friends.”
“More than friends? Do you mean he…?”
Sam nodded. “Yes. And to answer your next question, he and Lord Richard are most definitely more than friends.”
The carriage lurched, or more likely it was the dropping of John’s stomach. Brenleigh and Richard preferred men? Richard? And Brenleigh had once been more than a friend to Sam? An unexpected surge of jealousy prickled John’s skin, not to mention shock.
“I see,” John said, forcing calm. “And you parted badly?”
Sam laughed, the sound dripping with more acid than John had heard before. “You could say that, yes. I wasn’t good enough for him and he—” Sam cut his words short and leaned to look out the window as the carriage slowed and they came to a stop before a brightly lit townhouse.
Damnation! John should have known they would not have time for such a discussion in the carriage.
“I will have to tell you later.” Sam shrugged.
“What a place to leave off. You are a rotten storyteller,” John grumbled, only half joking.
Sam mouthed a
sorry
as the carriage door opened and the footman handed Kat and Flor up. Kat seated herself next to John, leaving Flor to sit with Sam. An awkward glance between Sam and Kat, followed by a stony silence made John wonder if the two siblings had already had a second quarrel earlier that evening.
“Lord Darnish, I’m surprised to see you here,” Kat said, giving Sam a questioning look.
“Easier than pulling my own man out into the cold when he and the horses would just freeze in the alleyway. Besides, I have a mind to leave off early, if I can, and I intend to force your dear brother to accompany me.”
Sam eyed him.
Never fear, darling.
“Oh?” Kat looked at Sam again. “I’m reluctant to ask, since it will probably be a gambling hell or whatever other nonsense gentlemen get up to on their own.”
“Nonsense indeed, ma’am,” John agreed happily. “But just imagine how burdened the ladies would be with our constant company if we did not go out and do foolish things on our own.” He had the urge to wink at Sam but managed to resist. Sam gave him what might have been a warning look, but it was ruined by his blush.