Sharp’s tawny gaze sharpened with interest and he smiled. A slow, dangerous smile.
“Very well, Kitten,” he said. “We have a bargain.”
It was after six o’clock by the time Kit left Sharp’s club and not worth going back home for dinner. He decided to go straight to Redford’s and eat there. He’d take the opportunity to do a little work in his office before heading downstairs to mingle with his patrons.
He wondered if Henry would come to Redford’s tonight.
By now the man had had plenty of time to think better of his impulse. He’d been overcome by guilt earlier—and perhaps not a little lust. Once his common sense had reasserted itself, he’d have realised it was terrible idea.
He won’t come, Kit told himself firmly. But the idea that he might kept teasing at the edges of Kit’s mind, preventing him from concentrating on anything, and as the hours ticked by, he was unable to control the mounting, squirming excitement in his belly.
It had been an eventful day. As well as Henry’s visit, there had been Clara’s ordeal and his interview with Jake Sharp. The latter two events were far more significant in terms of Kit’s day-to-day life than a visit from the man who had left him destitute two decades earlier. But as he sat in his office reviewing the latest invoices and delivery notes for the club, all he could think of was his encounter with Henry. And as he dined in his small private parlour before going downstairs to socialise with his patrons, he could barely manage a bite of the delicious meal the kitchens had sent up for the nervous excitement fermenting his gut.
Henry.
It had been so long.
Kit had thought he’d forgotten what Henry looked like. He still remembered one night, some years ago now, when he’d tumbled into bed, drunk and miserable, and hadn’t been able to summon up the memory of Henry’s face. He should have been pleased but instead, he’d wept like a drunken fool, as if his heart was breaking in two.
Except, now it seemed that he hadn’t forgotten—not really—because the moment he had laid eyes on Henry, the familiarity of the man’s face, his bearing, his expressions—all of it had crashed into Kit like an unexpected wave, knocking him off his feet.
For years, he’d thought of Henry as the man who had cheated him and left him with nothing. The resentment and bitterness he’d felt over that had kept him going for a long time, like red-hot, smouldering coals keeping a fire alive.
But this afternoon, he had seen Henry’s unmistakable dismay. His mortification at having wronged Kit. Kit could admit that now—Henry’s horror at learning what had happened had obviously not been feigned. There had been real despair in his eyes as Kit had confirmed his worst fears.
All these years, Kit had believed that Henry had just cast him aside, like Kit was nothing. He had been cast aside, of course—that remained true—but not as ruthlessly as he’d once thought. And not without regret.
Henry’s regret did not, however, undo the past. And it did not change the fact that Henry had seen Kit as little more than an object to be used. One that would not be needed as long as first anticipated, and that could disposed of by an instruction given to a servant.
No need to look Kit in the eye and tell him why he was breaking their arrangement early.
But really was that so surprising? Kit had been of no more consequence to Henry than a tailor, or a footman. It was only that the services he provided were rather more intimate—and that he had made the very great error of imagining that genuine feelings had arisen between them while he was providing those services. He could only be grateful that he had not made the even worse mistake of confessing his foolish feelings to Henry, as he had been on the verge of doing so many times.
Henry had simply never reciprocated Kit’s feelings, had he? But then why was he now offering to do whatever Kit demanded to make amends?
Kit stared at his barely-touched dinner, his heart racing as he considered the question… and came to an answer that made his stomach twist.
“If you are making amends, it has to cost you something.”
Kit closed his eyes, regret settling in now.
Henry had been genuinely horrified to learn the truth, and Kit could admit now that the Henry he had known, all those years ago, was the sort of