before,” he chided gently, before adding more firmly, “Bartlett may be a nobleman but I am not without resources.”
“I know,” she sobbed, turning her head to him. “But why should you be put to trouble over my idiocy? It’s unfair on you.”
“Friends put themselves to trouble for each other,” he said reassuringly. “And I am very capable of dealing with a bully like Bartlett.”
“How?” she asked.
Kit gave it some thought. After a moment he said, “A public confrontation, I think. Something that exposes his behaviour to his peers. We will aim to shine a light on that cockroach and see if we can send him scurrying back under his rock.”
“Kit,” she whispered. “Don’t put yourself at risk for me.”
“I won’t,” Kit said with more confidence than he truly felt. “In fact, I intend to seek assistance from someone Bartlett would not dare to cross.”
12
Henry
“I’ll tell my doormen to let you in. Come any time after nine o’clock.”
After Henry took his leave of Christopher, the man’s final words continued to echo in his mind.
Did Christopher actually want to see Henry tonight? He’d seemed surprised when Henry had agreed. Maybe even disappointed, as though he’d only wanted to offend him, not to have him comply.
It was a thought that troubled Henry as he turned in the direction of home and began walking.
“If you are making amends, it has to cost you something.”
Christopher had plainly been angry and resentful about the events of the past—and Henry could hardly blame him.
As he strode back towards Curzon Street, his mind teemed with an undisciplined mix of thoughts. His memories of Christopher as he had been all those years ago. How he had appeared today. Henry’s fears as to how matters might unfold at Redford’s that night.
“You, on your knees for me. Sucking me off in front of everyone.”
Henry bit the inside of his cheek as he remembered those words, only easing up when he tasted blood.
“In the back room, where anyone can see.”
Henry’s heart thudded so hard at that thought, he felt it might burst out of his chest.
Could he really do that? Get down on his knees in Christopher’s club, in front of whoever might be there, and suck a man’s cock?
Christopher’s cock.
Well, he had to, didn’t he? He simply had to. He had begged Christopher to allow him to make amends after all.
And hadn’t Henry once asked the same of Christopher? Their first encounters, all those years ago, had taken place in the heady atmosphere of the Golden Lily, several of them in front of other patrons.
It had felt like the most debauched of sins. Settling himself down on one of those low velvet divans that were scattered about the place and just watching as Christopher Redford—the most beautiful creature Henry had ever seen—crawled gracefully between his legs and took Henry’s cock into his lovely mouth.
He remembered all those envious, hungry gazes, watching them. They probably thought he felt like an emperor being catered to, but that wasn’t it at all. He felt more like a prisoner, held fast and helpless by the skills of the alluring young man who was playing with him in front of everyone else. Making him spend into his mouth.
He’d felt helpless, a little humiliated.
And he’d loved it.
He’d never admitted that to anyone, not even Christopher himself. After they’d entered into their arrangement properly, he’d brought those encounters to an end, telling Christopher he wanted him all to himself—which was not untrue. But nor was it the whole truth.
All in all, he’d taken a great deal from Christopher during their time together, and what had he given in return? Christ, he hadn’t even met the most basic terms of their agreement. That thought made his stomach twist with shame.
So, if Christopher wanted to humiliate Henry—to give him taste of his own medicine as Christopher would see it—was that really such a surprise?
Pathetically, part of Henry just wanted something with Christopher, no matter what he had to do to make that happen. Even if it meant getting down on his knees and begging for the privilege.
When he’d walked into Christopher’s drawing room earlier this afternoon, and seen him for the first time in near enough two decades, his heart had quickened in his chest like it was stuttering into rude and painful life for the first time in years and years.
He had felt—not so much young, as alive—as though new blood filled his veins.
A terrifying and wonderful feeling.
When Henry returned to the townhouse, he found Marianne and Jeremy in