Dances Long Forgotten Page 5

  “Still together then?” Cripps said, with a braying laugh and a knowing look. Hugo hoped he wasn’t blushing. He glanced at Lyndon and who was looking Cripps up and down. Hugo wondered if he might give him the cut. Lyndon pulled out his quizzing glass and looked at Cripps through it. Cripps was a large man. He’d been a big boy, but he was a very large gentleman now, burly and powerful looking. Hugo was uneasy at Lyndon baiting him, but Lyndon appeared oblivious.

  “Have we met?” His rasping tone shimmered with ice and condescension. Lyndon looked at him in puzzlement.

  Hugo’s lips twitched. “School, old thing.”

  “Ah.” Lyndon nodded sagely as he put his quizzing glass away, as though remembering. “The boys from the woodshed.” He let his gaze stray to Bamford, who was altogether smaller with a shock of black hair. He was looking startled and more than a little alarmed.

  Lyndon turned to Hugo with a smile that wasn’t really a smile. “I recall now. The boys from the woodshed.” He nodded sagely. Hugo wasn’t sure what to say, so he nodded too and watched Bamford and Cripps, his enemies of old, squirm.

  “But sorry, what were you saying?” Lyndon asked the two men with every appearance of interest.

  Cripps eyed him warily, as though the easy mark of the schoolroom had suddenly, and inexplicably, changed into a beast of entirely different stripe.

  Lyndon turned to Hugo with a genuine, warm smile. “Lord Hugo, it was good to see you after all these years.” He turned to Bamforth and Cripps. “So sorry I didn’t remember you immediately, but jolly nice to see you.” His smile was chilly, and his eyes held a warning that both men seemingly saw and understood as they nodded and murmured their pleasure at the re-acquaintance, and then made their escape.

  When Hugo looked at Lyndon his eyes were dancing.

  “Woodshed?”

  Lyndon looked at him with affection. “My dearest Hugo, they were so obviously besotted with one another, but they were never able to acknowledge that in themselves. I suspect that they, and many others, chose to beat younger boys who displayed, shall we say, tendencies towards male love, because they couldn’t face it in themselves.”

  Hugo was speechless.

  “I suspect they don’t admit it even now.” He looked out over the crowd at the pair who were now huddled in a corner, talking earnestly.

  It took a moment or two, but eventually, Hugo could see that it might be far easier to completely deny the desires one had, but in fairness couldn’t see how it would be possible to uphold the lie to oneself. He knew he couldn’t.

  “I don’t think I understand.”

  “That’s because you are a good, honest, truthful kind of a chap, my dear.”

  “I am?”

  “You are. Brutally honest.”

  Hugo frowned. His head was beginning to hurt. It was all too much.

  “Have you seen the snow?” Lyndon said, unexpectedly, and set off in the direction of the great entrance. Hugo followed.

  “It’s freezing out there.”

  Lyndon smiled over his shoulder, walked across the huge hallway, a footman opened the door, and they both stepped out under the huge porch held up by long, elegant columns that sheltered the entrance. The door closed behind them and they shivered at the sudden shock of the cold as they looked out over the parkland. Soft snow floated endlessly in huge, silent flakes, covering the land in deep white for as far as they could see. It was cold and quiet. All sound seemed muffled, but the air was fresh and sharp. Muted sounds of the ball came from the house, but it felt as though he and Lyndon were the only people seeing the beauty of the snow.

  “It’s splendid,” Hugo whispered. He wanted to put an arm around Lyndon and hold him close, but he didn’t. Lyndon smiled, sighed, and closed his eyes for a moment.

  “It’s my most favourite thing.”

  “Really?”

  Lyndon nodded. “Do you remember the winter that we were fourteen? Bamford and Cripps had recruited some of the other chaps and they were planning to ambush me and… well, I’ve no doubt you remember.”

  Hugo did remember. It revolted him then, it revolted him now.

  Lyndon’s eyes had a faraway look. “I remember you coming racing through the snow to find me. You caught me as I was preparing to go back to the dorm and warned me.” He smiled at Hugo. “You grabbed me by the arm, and we ran together. Ran over the playing fields, through the snow, and hid for hours until it would be safe to go back.”

  Hugo smiled as the memory flooded back. They’d fled and huddled under a horse blanket in the hay. Oddly, they hadn’t talked much, they hadn’t felt the need. Or at least he hadn’t. There was something warm, comfortable, and right about sheltering with Lyndon. As the memory washed over him, his heart clenched when he remembered what he said when they’d made their way back, knowing they’d be in for it from the masters, but hopeful that they’d miss what the older boys had in store. He closed his eyes as shame flooded him.

  “What is it?” Lyndon’s voice was soft.

  “I remember what I said to you.”

  Lyndon’s smile dimmed a little. “It’s of no matter.”

  “Yes, it is. I told you that it didn’t mean we could be friends.” Hugo grit his teeth at the wave of shame that engulfed him.

  “My dearest Hugo, of course I’d have preferred it if you said we should be friends and stand up to them together, but the fact that you risked your own neck to come and warn me is one of my happiest, most abiding memories of that dreadful place. The snow always reminds me of it, and of you. Trust me, I think of you in nothing other than the warmest terms.” He appeared to think for a little while, and then nodded, almost to himself. “I think I fell a little in love with you that day. You were my hero.”

  Hugo stared at him.

  “After that, whenever you could, you rescued me. Told me what they were planning, and I started to do the same for you. Don’t you remember?”

  “Well, I do, but I didn’t see it that way. All I saw, all I still see, are the times when I joined in and taunted you.”

  Lyndon looked away. “But you weren’t with them. You didn’t believe it or think it, did you.”

  Hugo shook his head.

  “And that mattered. It made a difference. It took me a while to see it, but I did. I saw that you hated it, hated them, and that you did your best to help me because you saw me.” He patted his chest. “You saw Lyndon. Not Cross, some nameless, featureless body that was there purely for their entertainment.”

  “I was afraid.”

  Lyndon smiled. “I know.”

  “I was afraid for you, for me, but most of all, I was afraid I was falling in love with you, and what that meant about me.” He said it in a rush because it was true, and if he owed Lyndon anything after the debacle that was their schooldays, it was the truth.

  Lyndon’s smile was beautiful. Hugo smiled back. They stood, watching the snow, side by side, unspeaking, for a long time.

  Chapter 6

  Hugo shivered in his bed. The fire was roaring, but even with the bed pans, he was cold. He pulled his nightshirt down and tucked up his knees. His feet were like ice and he wished he’d put on bed socks. He left the curtains around the bed pulled back on the side that faced the fire to let the warmth in, and because he hated being completely enclosed in the dark. He stared into the flickering light and let his mind wander over the events of the day. Oddly, it had turned out to be the best of days and the worst of days. He wasn’t sure his head had sufficient capacity to cope.

  He thumped the pillow to make it more comfortable and settled first on the pressing problem of the debt and the blackmail, hating how his stomach rolled and clenched at the look of horror on Winsford’s face. He’d never forget it. Ever. He forced himself to think more about how he could find the money to pay the debt. He couldn’t think of much. His greatest hope was that Winsford could find it in his heart to loan him the sum and let him pay him back in a way that wouldn’t send him completely into dun territory. The thing he h
ad no idea how to deal with was the blackmail. From where he stood, that was something that could hang over him for the rest of his life. Even if he gave in and gave Hessledon the money now, what was to stop him coming back for more when he felt like it? It would never be over. Ever.

  He turned his thoughts to Edgar Hessledon and tried to work out if he was the kind of chap that would hold what he knew over him and his family forever. He was a curious character. A good deal older than him, and indeed with a reputation for ruthlessness. They moved in similar circles, but Hessledon had never shown any interest in him, never really bothered with his company, but in the last couple of months he’d found him everywhere he went. He was quite flattered by it, in all honesty, for Hessledon was a handsome man and had a good deal of handsome friends. The careless friendship that he’d seemed to extend was seductive in the extreme, and Hugo had to admit he’d enjoyed his company, and that of his friends, because he was rarely included in things. He’d been too young to be included in what his brothers and sisters did, he’d been a complete outcast in school, and even in society he often found himself on the edges looking in.

  To his horror, Hessledon’s friendship had turned to something else entirely when, one evening, Hessledon unexpectedly trounced him at Piquet. Even his friends had commented on the ruthlessness of it all. He should have stopped when he’d lost more than he could afford, but stupidly, he’d continued, frantically trying to claw back some of the losses.

  It had simply worsened. Hessledon had always been a competent hand at the game, but he went from competent to fiendishly successful in the blink of an eye.

  Hugo had come away from the evening stunned, terrified, and not knowing what to do. Hessledon had been frighteningly calm about it. He’d shrugged and said he’d accept his vowels until he could get the money together. Hugo had been desperately trying to work out how to find a thousand guineas, and the realisation that he probably couldn’t had sent him into a spin.

  Feeling unspeakably stupid, he’d gone to a party one evening, drunk far too much, and found himself in the company of a stunningly handsome guardsman. He’d thrown caution to the wind and accompanied him down a quiet alley. He was on his knees servicing him in a most satisfactory manner, when Hessledon had turned up and caught them in flagrante, so to speak.

  It didn’t take much to realise that Hessledon had probably set the whole thing up. He’d given him a cold smile and thrown in the threat of blackmail. If he didn’t turn up with the money, he’d reveal all he knew about his nature to his family, and the magistrate. If he did that he’d be hung, and his entire family ruined.

  Christ, but his head hurt. It was like being back in school with the bullies, only a million times worse because this time his brothers and sisters and their families were involved. It was the feeling of sheer helplessness, that nothing he did could get him out of the fix he was in, that he couldn’t bear. Just as it had been at school, it was inescapable.

  He pulled his knees up tighter and thought about Lyndon. After he’d left on that awful day, the remaining years had been pure drudge and misery as the butt of most of the pranks and japes pulled by his so-called friends. He wished he could say it had made him stronger, but he suspected that the only thing it had done was to make him good at hiding. Hiding from everything. Even himself. He’d done a fair job of it until he’d had the misfortune to meet Edgar Hessledon.

  He’d missed Lyndon more than he could ever express and had been singularly despondent for such a long time his family had begun to worry. He’d had to force an effort to be jolly to stop them worrying. When he thought about it, he was still forcing it. Still being the jolly scapegrace that they all treated with affection. He wondered if they would ever see him as a just an ordinary man. Given that milestone usually happened when a chap married and produced offspring, he couldn’t see it happening ever.

  He was wondering about lighting some candles to read for a little while when a knock on the door startled him badly.

  He jumped even more when the door to his bedchamber opened. He sat up and peered around the canopy.

  Lyndon came through the door, locked it behind him, and stood facing him.

  Hugo knew he was gaping like a codfish. He’d hoped yet feared…

  “Hugo. If I am hopelessly out of line here, tell me and I’ll leave.”

  “I…”

  “You showed me your room, so I thought that perhaps that meant you…” He shrugged and cleared his throat and looked terribly uncertain. “May I join you?”

  Hugo closed his mouth and nodded. His heart was hammering too hard to attempt to speak.

  Lyndon hurried to the bed and discarded slippers and a heavy brocade dressing gown to reveal a long, linen nightshirt. Hugo sat and stared.

  Lyndon smiled and rubbed his arms. “Move up, it’s freezing.”

  Hugo moved up from his warm spot onto a freezing patch of sheet and held back the covers.

  “It’s a beautiful house, but Christ, it’s cold.” Lyndon nestled into the pillow, facing Hugo, and grinned. “Do you mind?”

  Well, it was a bit late if he did. He looked at Lyndon. Golden hair on his pillow, dark, gorgeous eyes smiling at him, and his long, lean body within inches of his.

  “I don’t mind.”

  “It’s fine if you don’t want to…do anything. We can just bunk together for warmth.”

  Hugo swallowed. “Of course.”

  Lyndon’s smile was almost shy. “I wanted to spend the night with you. Even if it is only once.”

  Hugo knew exactly what he meant. They were almost nose to nose on the pillow. Lyndon gave an exaggerated shudder, and Hugo laughed.

  “Were you asleep?”

  Hugo shook his head. “No. Just thinking.”

  “Dangerous stuff, thinking.”

  Hugo smiled into his eyes. After a moment, Lyndon’s gaze dropped to Hugo’s mouth and he swallowed and licked his lips. Hugo’s mouth immediately went dry. The space between them filled with the warm musk of masculine arousal and Hugo could hold out no longer. He was going straight to hell anyway, so he may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.

  “Do you want to…do anything?”

  Lyndon licked his lips again and swallowed. “I suspect that when it comes to you, I will always want to do things.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” Lyndon moved closer, until their noses were almost touching.

  “I’ve not done a lot. I’m not wildly experienced.” Hugo felt compelled to be honest.

  Lyndon reached out and touched his cheek. “Well, I’m not massively experienced, so perhaps we could learn together?”

  “Learn?”

  “Like we did when we danced? Isn’t that what it’s like? Moving together in time with each other?”

  A smile spread across Hugo’s face as he looked into Lyndon’s eyes. “Like dancing. Yes. It’s like dancing.” He laughed a little. “I only know a few steps.”

  “It depends on how far you would like to go.”

  “Go?” Hugo was entranced by Lyndon’s eyes and the warmth of his voice.

  “Well, we could aim for a simple jig, rather like we did in the library.” Lyndon moved closer. “Or we could try something a little more ambitious, or we could go the whole hog and jump straight to the waltz.”

  Hugo’s mouth was open. He knew it was. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. His brother was somewhere in the house worrying how to get him out of the mess he was in precisely because he’d indulged in this, but this wasn’t a furtive tug down a back alley with a stranger, this was Lyndon. This was different. And he had to know. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life never knowing.

  “I only waltzed once, and it was awful.”

  Lyndon’s thumb brushed his cheek. “We can try make it beautiful. I’ve done it a few times.”

  “Is it beautiful?” He felt ridiculous having this conversation. Talking in euphemisms was nonsensical.

  Lyndon nodded. “It can be. Would you like me to
lead?”

  It took Hugo back to their conversation before, where he’d been brave because it was unlikely he’d ever be asked to do it. But now, when the only thing separating him from Lyndon’s naked body was two flimsy nightshirts, it was the only thing he could think about. He wanted, needed Lyndon in a way he’d never felt before in his life.

  “Why not.”

  A glorious smile spread over Lyndon’s face and his eyes danced. He threw back the covers and jumped out of the bed. Hugo sat up, grinning like an idiot. Lyndon pulled the nightshirt over his head and there he was. Limned in the firelight, for the very first time, he saw Lyndon completely naked. His body was a thing of beauty. Taught muscles, fair skin, darker hair around his beautiful, elegant, erect, ready cock. Hugo wanted to weep again. He climbed out of the bed, not taking his eyes from Lyndon. He didn’t want to miss even the tiniest second of this because most likely it would have to sustain him for the rest of his life.

  He stood before him and pulled off his own nightshirt, wishing he was as beautiful as Lyndon, but as he revealed himself in all his pale and freckled glory, Lyndon’s eyes widened, his cock hardened even more as moisture beaded the tip.

  And Hugo felt beautiful.

  Lyndon held out a hand and they moved to the fire. He threw on two more logs to keep the warmth in the room and they moved slowly into each other’s arms. They fit perfectly. Two men, two lean masculine bodies, two trembling masculine hearts. They plastered themselves together, skin touching skin wherever it could. Cheek to cheek, chest to chest, cocks aligned, thighs… It was the pinnacle of perfection. Lyndon’s hands roamed Hugo’s back, and Hugo let his hand drift over the globe of Lyndon’s arse made muscular from all the riding. A tear escaped again, but he wasn’t ashamed. Not this time.