Kit shifted. He forced himself to smile at Henry—though it felt like a very stiff sort of smile—and said, “Do you mind if I get up?”
“Oh—sorry—yes, of course,” Henry said quickly, clambering off him.
Kit immediately rose and went to the wardrobe, pulling out a dressing gown—an outrageous saffron yellow one with black trim—which he pulled over his nakedness. He felt suddenly shaky. He wanted to wash and to be alone for a while.
He turned back to face Henry, who was now sitting on the side of the bed watching him with wary eyes.
“Well,” Kit said, with a smile that felt horribly stiff. “I think we can agree that you’ve thoroughly made amends now.”
“Christopher—”
“It’s been really quite an odd day, hasn’t it?” Kit said, speaking over him. “I certainly didn’t expect it to go like this. I daresay you didn’t either. But I don’t suppose it’s turned out too badly, all things considered. Perhaps we can say goodbye properly this time. And part as friends—or as near to friends as a duke and a whore can ever be.”
He thought Henry might smile at that. But he didn’t. He looked troubled.
“You’re not a whore, and I didn’t do that to make amends,” he said thickly. “Any more than you did it to punish me. I wanted to do it. God, Christopher—I spent all over your bedcovers, just from touching you. If that doesn’t—” He paused and took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. I’m making a mess of this.”
Kit stared at him. He couldn’t think how to respond.
Softly, almost inaudibly, Henry said, “I didn’t want to leave you. But Caroline was dying, and I had promised her I would give you up if she asked me.” He swallowed. “It was cowardly, sending Parkinson to tell you. I regret that more than I can say.”
The sudden prick of tears in Kit’s eyes surprised him—irritated him, even. This had happened lifetimes ago. It was ridiculous to weep over it now.
And yet, when he looked at the defeated slump of Henry’s shoulders, he wanted nothing more than to do just that.
What was Henry’s crime, after all? He’d agreed to his wife’s dying request. A woman he had made promises to, the mother of his children. Someone he’d always told Kit he truly loved. Would Kit really have wanted Henry to deny her request?
“Did she know about me?” he asked. The question was out before he could second-guess himself.
Henry met his gaze. “Yes. You might remember, we had stopped sharing a bed some time before I met you. She had given me carte blanche to take a lover. But…”
“But?”
Henry sighed. “She didn’t want it to be someone I had feelings for. I think… I think Caroline saw physical passion as very different from married love.” He paused, considering. “I think she was pleased, in a way, that you were a man. She couldn’t really imagine what I had with you being anything other than—bestial, I suppose.”
Kit recoiled. He couldn’t help it. There was something so offensive about that. The way it reduced what he and Henry had had. Which really was pretty ridiculous. It wasn’t as if there had been anything so pure about him and Henry, was there? He’d been a whore. Henry’s kept boy. He’d entered into their arrangement knowing full well Henry was married.
Tentatively, Kit said, “I always assumed she didn’t much enjoy the marital bed.”
Henry sighed. “Neither of us did.”
“Oh,” Kit said. “I’m sorry, Henry.”
Henry offered a weak smile. “I don’t know if it was my fault or if she would have been uninterested even if I had desired her. She said it would have made no difference, so I try to take comfort from that. But sometimes I wonder.”
“That’s natural,” Kit said. “But for what it’s worth, there are some people who just don’t want that sort of intimacy. I’ve known one or two in my time.”
Henry looked so hopeful at that, Kit could have wept.
“You always spoke very fondly and respectfully of her to me,” Kit said quietly.
“In all other ways we were well suited,” Henry said. “The best of friends—that’s what we always said.”
Hesitantly, Kit crossed to the bed and sank down next to Henry, careful to keep a bit of space between them. “You did love her then,” he said curiously. “Despite everything?”
Henry nodded. “When she died, I would have gone to pieces if it hadn’t been for the children. Caroline was a loving mother. The older ones in particular took her death