Henry’s blush had faded, but now it returned, heating his cheeks.
Christopher laughed, not particularly kindly. “Providing services, you see. Holes to be filled, just as often as you’d like.”
“Christopher—”
The man smiled brightly. “Would you like to give it a try? Earn back the money you owe me by letting me use your holes?”
“Christopher, please,” Henry said weakly.
Christopher laughed again, and this time a bitter edge crept in. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not really going to ask you to service my cock, Henry. But it was worth saying out loud, just to see your face.” A strange smile twisted his lovely mouth. “And now I think it’s time you left, your grace. I do believe I’ve had enough reminiscing for one day—for one lifetime actually. So, let us leave it at this: you have made your apology, and I have accepted it.” Christopher moved towards the bell rope, stretching his arm out to pull it and summon the footman.
To see Henry out of his life, once and for all.
Henry didn’t want that. He found himself stepping forward, taking hold of Christopher’s reaching arm and saying roughly, “Wait. Please.”
Christopher turned, his expression mingled confusion and irritation.
“I’ll do it,” Henry said. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
Christopher’s eyes went wide. Henry had surprised him, it seemed. His expression flickered between disbelief, intrigue, suspicion… and yes, lust. It was that last that lit a fire in Henry’s belly and made him feel that strange sense again, of being fully alive for the first time in a long time.
At last Christopher said, with almost eerie calm, “You really want to do this? To make amends to me?”
“Yes.”
“Not for your own gratification?”
“No,” Henry said. “Though I can’t promise not to enjoy it. You seemed to do so, all those years ago.”
Something flared in Christopher’s green eyes, then subsided.
“If you are making amends,” Christopher said, “it has to cost you something. It cannot be some game for your own titillation.”
Henry’s gaze was steady. “I understand.”
Christopher gaze hardened and his light voice grew challenging. “Fine. We do it at Redford’s then. In the back room, where anyone can see. You, on your knees for me. Sucking me off in front of everyone.”
The jolt of alarm in Henry’s chest at those words was profound, and he saw that Christopher noticed his reaction—a thin smile stretched his mouth and his hostile gaze was fiercely disbelieving. He was waiting for Henry to back down—certain of it, in fact.
“All right,” Henry said faintly. “I’ll be there. When?”
For the second time, Christopher’s eyes widened with surprise, but a moment later, he had himself back under control. “Tonight,” he said tightly. “I’ll tell my doormen to let you in. Come any time after nine o’clock.”
“Very well,” Henry said. “Until this evening, then.”
He bowed then, very properly. As though to a lady he had called upon after a ball.
When he straightened, Christopher was looking at him strangely, suspicion and disbelief in his cool green gaze. And something else. Something vulnerable.
In that moment, Henry made his decision.
As terrifying as the prospect was, he was going to Redford’s tonight.
Come what may, he would be there.
11
Kit
After Henry left, Kit didn’t know what to do with himself. He tried to go back to his letter, but he could not concentrate. He kept returning to his conversation with Henry.
He was astonished at himself—where had that deep-rooted anger come from? Until today, he would have sworn that he had largely put his history with Henry Asquith behind him, but faced with the man, he had been blindly, violently furious.
His old hurts and resentments had flowed out of him like lava, scorching the ground between them.
Christ, where had his absurd idea of being serviced by Henry in public come from? What had he been thinking to suggest such a thing? What had Henry been thinking to agree to it?
And Christ, he was coming to Redford’s tonight!
Except, no. Of course he wasn’t. He would not. He would go away and think better of this madness.
Surely he would think better of it?
Kit was still brooding over an hour later when the quiet of the house was interrupted by a very loud knocking at the front door. Curious, Kit went to his front window and peered down. To his surprise, one of the two figures standing there was Clara—he recognised her pale-blue bonnet and shawl. She was leaning on the arm of an unfamiliar man wearing a high-crowned hat.