Thief of Hearts Read online

  “Beg pardon?” he whispered, shaking his head and blinking.

  The man frowned and spoke again, this time touching his arm lightly.

  Jeremy smiled but it drooped as he felt himself waver. The man opened the door and ushered him out gently. It was much cooler in the hallway and he could actually breathe, so he pulled in a deep breath.

  “My dear boy, are you unwell?” the man said. His words were quietly spoken but in a deep, faintly husky voice.

  Jeremy smiled again and tried to nod but stopped because it made his head swim. The man continued to speak to him and guided him away from the drawing room, but Jeremy knew if he was found to be missing he would be in hot water.

  “Have to go back,” he managed to say, and tried to turn, but the man put an arm around his waist and held him upright when his legs buckled. Jeremy looked up into those grey green eyes. He really was the most handsome man that he had ever seen in his life. Those were his last thoughts as everything faded to black.

  Chapter 2

  David grabbed the lad as he crumpled. A swift look around revealed they were alone, so, with a minimum of jostling, he got him over his shoulder and heaved. His wig fell to the floor, but David managed to bend and snatch it up, almost losing his cargo as he did so, and marched off in the direction of his bed chamber. There was no point putting him near the dining room or drawing room where he might be found, and as there were no staff about, and the guests were all occupied, he strode out as quickly as he could.

  The lad had been going whiter and whiter as the evening went on. Pale to begin with, by the end of the evening he was green. His striking violet eyes dulled as his fidgeting worsened. In the end, he’d gone over and asked him to be so good as to show him the direction to the stables, so he could check on his horse. Bit feeble, really, but the best he’d been able to come up with to try and get him out of the room before he passed out. He’d only just made it.

  He lugged him up the staircase and got him out of the way before anyone noticed. He opened the door to his chamber, locked it behind him, staggered to the bed, and dropped his charge none too gently onto it. He stood, breathing heavily, and looked at the lad. He looked shocking. Pale, clammy, and if David was any judge, likely to vomit at any moment. He fished under the bed and came up with a pretty chamber pot and put it beside him. There was water in the wash basin, so he squeezed out a cloth and laid it over his forehead, then pulled the black shoes from his feet and loosened his neck cloth.

  “Come on, Violet Eyes, wake up.” He sat and patted one cheek gently and got a murmur in response. He’d been right about the hair. Damp black curls were plastered to his head.

  “That’s the ticket,” he said briskly and patted again.

  He moaned louder this time and reached up to pull the cloth off his head and opened his eyes, blinked, went very still, and stared. “Who are you?” he whispered warily.

  David couldn’t help the small smile which slipped out. “Well, apparently I’m the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.”

  The lad groaned and put the cloth back over his eyes as his pale cheeks flushed. “Oh, God, did I actually say that? Please tell me I didn’t say it out loud.”

  “You did.”

  He pulled the cloth from his eyes and peeped out. “I am so sorry,” he whispered, completely mortified.

  David watched him for a moment, then held out a hand. “David Lambert.”

  The lad eyed it for a moment, as though it might be a trick, but eventually held out a slightly shaky, damp hand and took it. “Jeremy Naylor.”

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Jeremy Naylor.”

  Jeremy flushed. “Likewise,” he said, and struggled to sit up.

  David helped him. “If you are going to cast up your accounts, be a dear and use the pot.” He pointed to the chamber pot. Jeremy grimaced and nodded. “Why don’t you freshen up whilst you are here. Have you eaten?”

  Jeremy shook his head.

  “Is that why you keeled over?”

  “Probably.” He shuddered as he dragged himself off the soft bed and headed for the wash stand on wobbly legs. He splashed his face vigorously and ran his shaking hands through his dark hair, making it stick up at odd angles. It looked in need of a good wash.

  David handed him a towel. Poor sod. Probably been on his feet since the crack of dawn.

  “Do you have to go back?”

  He nodded and finished wiping his hands and face. “I must.”

  “Let me get you something to eat first.”

  Jeremy’s eyes widened. “Sir, you can’t possibly do that.”

  “I can do whatever I like,” David said completely deadpan. “You lay on the bed and get yourself together and I’ll find you something to eat. Do not move from this room.”

  * * * *

  Jeremy sat on the bed as he was bidden and put his face in his hands. This was it. He was going to be turned off without a reference and his brother would likely disown him and leave him to his own devices. His desperate attempt at respectability, making his brother proud of him, would come to naught. Sitting in one of the guest bed chambers with one of the guests waiting on him as though he were…Well, God alone knew what. He was done for. He scrubbed his face. He was feeling a little more the thing, he was just so damned tired and hungry. He looked at the soft, inviting pillows and decided that if he was damned, then he might as well be comfortable. He put one of the pillows behind him, so he could lean back on it. The bed was so delicious, and the linen fine and clean. It was heavenly. He stroked his face against the softness and sighed. He loved the touch of fine fabrics. One day he would wear nothing but fine fabric and lie on the softest sheets. The fire was blazing, making the room warm and cosy, so he lay his cheek against the pillow and let his eyes close. When he opened them again, David Lambert was closing the door and then walking to the bed carrying a tray. Jeremy jumped and struggled into a sitting position.

  “Here you are,” David said, putting the tray on the bed beside him.

  Jeremy’s mouth watered. Thick slices of beef and slices of fresh bread smeared with butter. A pot of mustard, and a plate of macaroons with a pot of fresh tea. He opened his mouth to speak, but the smell of the bread and meat hit his nose and he couldn’t.

  “Afraid it’s not much, but it might see you on.”

  “Not much?” Jeremy croaked. “It’s…you shouldn’t have…I…I can’t…” He was babbling.

  David picked up a piece of the bread, spread it thinly with mustard, and layered the slices of beef on. He topped it with another slice of bread and handed it to him. Jeremy took it gingerly and hesitated. David nodded, so he took a huge bite. It was astounding. The bread was soft and fresh and the smell of it in his nose was breath taking. The beef, meltingly tender and rare, made his eyes close as the mustard tickled the back of his nose. He chewed and groaned, savouring every morsel, whilst David poured two cups of tea. He looked at him as he took another bite, and then let his eyes close. When he opened them, it was to find David Lambert staring at him with an odd, intense expression. He closed them again and carried on eating.

  Once the bread and meat were finished, they sat sipping tea and eating macaroons on the bed.

  “So, how old are you?” David asked in that low husky voice which made Jeremy shiver inside.

  Jeremy swallowed his mouthful. “Two and twenty. You?” Jeremy took a sip of tea, looked into the cup, and wondered if he was far too familiar. He shot a glance upward.

  David tilted his head and regarded him for a moment. “Nine and twenty. How long have you worked here?”

  “A few months. I haven’t seen you before.”

  “That’s because I haven’t been.”

  “I know. I’d have remembered you.” Jeremy looked up and flushed. He really needed to keep his tongue under control. He glanced at David who was selecting another cake. He needed to remember the man was a guest.

  “Do you like working here?”

  Jeremy considered for a moment.
Did he like it? “It’s a good job,” he said, and paused. “I’ve never really stopped to consider whether or not I like it.”

  “And do you?”

  Jeremy felt himself smile, and then laugh in a self-deprecating fashion. David Lambert looked faintly bemused. “No. I don’t.” He shook his head. “It’s damned hard work, but it’s a good, respectable position. I hate the uniform because it makes me itch, and I am sick and tired of being shouted at, and I am really quite weary of dodging advances from people old enough to know better.”

  David was quiet for a moment. “Do you have to dodge advances often?”

  Jeremy rolled his eyes. “All the time.”

  “I imagine you would be well recompensed?”

  Jeremy opened his mouth and then shut it. Did he mean…? He bristled. “I am not a whore, Mr. Lambert. I might not like it much, but this is a good position. Forgive me for speaking out of turn.”

  “I apologise, unreservedly.” David looked genuinely contrite. “I didn’t mean to imply…” He waved a hand.

  “I must go back.” Sitting in the quiet of David Lambert’s chamber, and being the object of his kindness and interest, had been exceedingly pleasant, but the conversation was taking a difficult turn and he had no idea how to respond. David Lambert made him feel far too…Well, he didn’t quite know how he felt, but it was too much.

  “I wasn’t suggesting you were a whore.” David persisted in a somewhat dogged fashion. “I never meant to suggest or imply anything of the kind. I know how difficult it can be when you have to fend off unwanted advances. Believe me.”

  “Well, thank you,” Jeremy said. They were sitting close together. Too close, he realised as he became aware of the warmth from David’s body. Those grey green eyes were watching him with an unnerving intensity. He glanced at him and immediately looked away as a shiver of excitement prickled along his senses.

  “Do you ever find yourself the recipient of advances that would be welcome?”

  Jeremy’s heart almost beat its way out of his chest. What was he saying? He looked at David. His eyes were dark, hot. Much like they had been as he watched him eat the sandwich.

  Jeremy swallowed. “Occasionally.”

  He held his breath when David dropped his gaze to the coverlet and his mouth curved in a small, lopsided smile. He looked up again. “And how might someone know their advances were welcome?” His husky voice was low.

  Jeremy’s whole body tensed and flushed as a wave of naked want swamped him. He wanted David Lambert. Badly.

  Tension crackled between them, but Jeremy wasn’t bold enough to make a move. He took a shaky breath. “Well, a kiss might be a start.”

  David was quiet for a moment and then in a very, very low gravelly voice said, “I don’t kiss.” David’s eyes were dark; turbulent, unreadable.

  Jeremy’s courage failed him. He swallowed and got to his feet. “Well, you’ll never know then, will you?”

  Chapter 3

  The door closed as Jeremy left the room, leaving David in a state of extreme arousal and complete shock. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. His rule about never bedding the staff was long standing. A cardinal rule. One he had never broken. He never bothered the staff. Never. They had enough to contend with without having to fend off people who could ruin their lives with a nod. But not only that, he was very rarely spurned because he had made it his business to be good at reading people. Good at seeing what they wanted and giving it to them. Jeremy Naylor had thoroughly trounced him by asking for a kiss. His third rule. No kissing. Far, far too intimate and inevitably left the recipient bent on attempting a return match.

  David groaned. The wretch had left him high and dry. His body was so hard it hurt. David stared at the door for a moment, then made an irritated sound, unbuttoned his falls and pulled out a handkerchief. It barely took a couple of tugs until he was spending. His heart stuttered as pleasure ripped through him, annoying in both its intensity and his inability to banish the thought of Jeremy Naylor with his tall, slender body, flushed cheeks, and violet eyes.

  He sat for a little while until his breathing returned to normal. This was a complication he most certainly did not need. He had business to attend to. He shook himself, restored his clothing, tamed his hair, and headed back to the party, thankful Naylor hadn’t taken him up on his offer as it would have been quite ridiculous as well as completely inappropriate. He composed himself and slid back into the room. The Dowager glanced at him and winked from the other side of the room. He smiled at her. Fortunately, he wasn’t given to flushing in the way Jeremy did, but had he been of that ilk he would surely have turned bright red.

  “Ah, Lambert, there you are.” Lord Coatsworth hailed him. “Where were you. I wanted you to ask your opinion.” Coatsworth was a good sort. Older than him, as most at the gathering were, but the man was straightforward. Enjoyed horses, good cigars, and had a passably pretty wife who looked at him with stars in her eyes. Uncomplicated and pleasant.

  “How can I be of service?”

  Coatsworth took advantage of the absence of his wife, who was seated with a small group of ladies, and rambled on about finer points of horse management that fortunately, David was able to follow with enthusiasm, being enormously fond of good horseflesh himself. He indulged himself a happy few minutes steeped in conversation about various manly pursuits whilst determinedly not looking at Jeremy Naylor who had returned to his post by the door looking marginally better than he had before.

  Coatsworth moved on, leaving David alone for a moment. He raised his glass to his lips and surveyed the group but noted Charnley making his way towards him in a determined fashion. He put his glass down and forced his features to reveal nothing more than boredom. He looked at him with a bland smile.

  “Lambert. Good to see you. It’s been a while.” Charnley was taller and five years older than him. He stood too close and held out a hand.

  David eyed the proffered limb for a second too long before taking it and shaking limply. “Indeed.”

  Charnley observed him closely. “I’ve been trying to speak with you for some time.”

  David kept his face blank. Charnley had sent several messages, and left his card a number of times, and David had ignored every one of them. “Was there something you wanted?”

  “There is.”

  David raised his eyebrows and waited.

  “Not here. Perhaps we could talk at some point over the course of the weekend?”

  “As you wish.” Over my cold dead body.

  Charnley nodded and after giving him a long look, walked away apparently satisfied.

  David watched as he went to speak to the handsome Major in regimentals. He said something that made the man look in his direction, so David raised his glass with a nod. Both men looked away and went to speak to another man. A thought occurred to him. Were they government men? He knew Charnley was, but he hadn’t seen the others before. Anger simmered in his gut as he wondered about the invitation to the Fallows party. It was above his normal milieu which now made him wonder if Charnley had anything to do with it. The notion it might have been made him feel foolish, which in turn made him angry. He squashed all the emotion down until he could turn with equanimity and move to speak to someone else. He meandered about the room, until Coatsworth waved him over again, having seemingly been retrieved by his wife. Coatsworth beamed as he joined them and turned to another couple who stood by his side.

  “Framling, Lady Framling, let me introduce you to Mr. Lambert. Dashed good chap.”

  He went on to introduce Lord Framling, a pompous looking man, probably in his forties, and sharp faced wife who eyed David with disdain. Framling could barely bring himself to acknowledge him. Whilst it wasn’t exactly the cut direct, it was uncomfortable. Coatsworth blustered his way through like the decent chap he was, and his wife chattered merrily. David wondered about staying and passing the time with them simply to annoy Framling, but decided he would rather not ruffle any feathers, so bowed and move
d on quickly, avoiding Lord Standish as he did so. A skirmish with him would be simply too much in one evening.

  He put his half empty glass down quietly, and a few moments later, headed for Jeremy Naylor.

  The lad held out a tray of drinks, so he took one. “Feeling better?” He kept his voice low.

  The lad nodded, but his eyes were riveted on David’s lips. David raised the glass and Naylor’s eyes shot up to meet his. He flushed charmingly. David had to drag his eyes from him and return to his perambulation of the room. It took far more effort than it should have to push away the image of flushed cheeks, soft lips, and violet eyes staring hungrily at his mouth.

  * * * *

  Jeremy lay in the darkness listening to his roommate, Mickey, snore. He ran every word of the conversation with David Lambert through his head and came to the conclusion that if he wanted it, David Lambert would be his lover for the weekend. The thought sent champagne-like bubbles fizzing through his entire body. His experience with amorous encounters were seriously limited. A few fumbles with a few chaps, mainly hidden away, fast and impersonal. What was David Lambert offering? A night in a bed? What would he want to do? Jeremy felt hopelessly inadequate. He still couldn’t believe he’d walked away. Why didn’t he like to kiss? Why hadn’t he taken what was offered? Kissing wasn’t all that important, was it? He shivered and pulled his blanket around his ears. Kissing had never seemed to matter until David Lambert told him he didn’t do it, and now all he could think about was the man’s mouth. He shuddered. It was absolutely freezing. No logs on the fire, nothing. The basement room had a tiny window which was ill fitting and the wind was howling outside. He shivered a little longer, and then jumped up and put on his stockings. At least they might keep his feet warm. His nightshirt and nightcap were thin and useless. He wrapped his blanket around his shoulders, and then had a thought. The fires in the kitchen might still be burning. Perhaps he could go and sit by them until he got warm? He was fairly sure if caught, he would be punished horribly but he couldn’t bear the cold any more.