“I had a few experiences with men before Caroline and I married,” Henry said. “All prostitutes, all at the same establishment.” He smiled at Kit. “Arnott’s, in Covent Garden.”
Kit made a face—he knew the place Henry spoke of and hadn’t thought much of it.
“When you first went into Arnott’s, you were taken to the proprietor. Mr. Arnott, I presume, though he never introduced himself. He always seemed to be sneering, I thought. He’d hand over a price list of what you could have. The men were all young and reasonably well-favoured. Obedient and accommodating.” Henry sighed. “It wasn’t like this place,” he said. “There was no mingling or drinking. No places to gather. Just the ordering of a service, payment up front, then the performance. Arnott would ring for someone to be brought through after you’d paid. You could send them away and ask for someone else, if you wanted, but I never did. Arnott would tell the prostitute what you’d paid for—never by name, always by number—and you’d go to the room with him and he’d barely speak, just do what was required, then leave you to clean up after.”
Kit nodded, watching Henry carefully. He didn’t look unhappy as such, but there was something sad in his expression, and Kit could only wonder why he was sharing these memories.
“I remember the rooms were very plain and small, just a bed, and a jug of water. A tiny window at the top, letting in a very little light. It was so gloomy they always had to have a candle, even during the day.”
“It sounds rather dismal,” Kit said.
“It was,” Henry agreed. “But it was better than nothing.” He paused. “I stopped going when I married Caroline—I thought that was it for me, with men. And it was, for a few years. Until Caroline had Alice. After that, she asked me not to visit her bedchamber anymore, and said she was happy for me to take my pleasure elsewhere.” He smiled at Kit. “I was almost giddy with the freedom of that. It wasn’t long before I heard about the Golden Lily, and the very first night I went there, I met you.” He smiled, his grey eyes warm. “From the first moment I saw you, I was infatuated. I’d have done anything to have you.”
Kit’s heart thudded in his chest as he remembered that first night and the young god who had done nothing to disguise his interest in Kit. He’d felt powerful that night, in a way he never had before. The patrons of the Lily usually liked to exercise their power over the men they bought, issuing commands, relishing the eager obedience of the whores. But Henry had looked at Kit with something like wonder in his eyes. It had made Kit feel like a person—a man—in a way he never had before.
“The negotiation was a joke,” Henry said ruefully. “The madam gave me a list of demands and I agreed to them all. I just wanted you as soon as I could get you. And then, once I had you, everything you did was so perfect. It never”—he broke off for a moment before continuing—“it never occurred to me to ask for anything different. You would say, shall I suck you? or would you like to fuck me now? and whatever it was, it would always sound like a wonderful notion.”
Yes, Kit recognised the truth of those words. He had gently managed Henry when they’d been together. At the time, he’d thought Henry was indulging him in allowing it, like a favourite pet. Now he wondered if Henry had just preferred being somewhat passive.
“After Caroline died, and I left London—and you—there was a long time when I did not so much as touch another man. Years. At first, there were too many other things to worry about, and I was not inclined anyway. But later, when my desires began to reassert themselves, I tried to suppress them. I told myself I would not return to my old ways. But”—here, his voice cracked—“they would not be suppressed, Kit. The more I tried, the more urgently they loomed in my mind. The more I denied myself, the more tormented I became. I almost lost my mind, I think. One night I considered—” He broke off and turned to look at Kit with despair in his grey gaze.
“Henry—” Kit leaned forward, laying his hand on Henry’s thigh, needing some kind of physical connection