Chapter 2 #2
“Steady,” Dev said, keeping one arm around the man’s back as he moved them closer to the nearest house to be out of the way of a passing pair of servants, likely returning from some errand. They glanced at Dev and the gentleman with wide eyes but kept going when Dev nodded for them to move on .
“I do not know what has come over me,” the gentleman said, moving gingerly, as if to test how injured he was. “He came out of nowhere, attacked me before I was ready.”
“I dare say no one is truly ready to be attacked in the street,” Dev said, brushing off the gentleman’s coat a bit. Doing so helped him to learn that the gentleman had a fine form and a lovely arse under his rich clothing. “Lord Deveraux Ogilvy,” he introduced himself.
“Yes, I know,” the gentleman said. He glanced immediately up at Dev, looking sheepish. “That is to say, I am familiar with you, Lord Deveraux. I am Lord Christopher Seymour, Earl of Castleton.”
Dev smiled, suddenly remembering where he knew the young man from. Their paths had never crossed directly, but he’d seen the gentleman at balls and at state occasions, such as the old king’s funeral. He’d just rescued the Earl of Castleton from a brutal attack.
“I am pleased to formally make your acquaintance, my lord,” Dev said with a half-bow. “I only wish it were under better circumstances.”
“As do I,” Castleton said with a wince.
Dev did not feel as though his duty as protector was over. In fact, to him, it felt as though it had only just begun.
“Might I escort you home, my lord? You seem a bit out of sorts still,” he said.
Castleton looked deeply uncertain, but Dev had the feeling the man’s uncertainty was not over him. He glanced up and down the swiftly-darkening street before looking at Dev again. “I would like the company, yes,” he said.
“Then you shall have it,” Dev said.
The two of them started forward. Dev had the uncanny desire to offer his arm to Castleton the way he would to any lady of the ton . That likely had something to do with Castleton’s delicate state and ruffled appearance. The man was still shaken, no matter how hard he tried to pretend otherwise.
He did try to pretend otherwise at that.
He straightened deliberately, even though Dev could see his pain, and he walked with an almost exaggerated masculinity, like he was an actor attempting to portray a gentleman but doing a poor job of it.
Dev would have found it comical if something in his heart did not find it so tragic.
“Please reassure me that you are well by conversing with me, my lord,” Dev said as they walked on. Castleton seemed to know where they were going, so Dev let him direct their steps.
“I am uncertain what I should say,” Castleton said, clearly nervous.
It occurred to Dev that the man might have been nervous about him as much as he was ruffled by the attack. He was a bounder and a cad most of the time, but he could put on gentle manners when it suited him.
“Do you know why you might have been attacked?” he asked, wondering if speculation would distract Castleton from his pain.
It was dark, but not so dark that Dev could not see the flush that came to Castleton’s smooth cheeks. “I’ve no idea at all,” he said.
It was clearly a lie. Castleton knew why he’d been attacked. He may have even known who attacked him or sent the attacker.
That intrigued Dev, but also brought out a fiercely protective streak in him.
“Are you returning home from an interesting night out?” he asked instead.
If anything Castleton’s face flushed darker. “I was merely dining with a friend, Lady Everly,” he said.
Dev’s first instinct was to assume Castleton had been at some sort of assignation. But then he recalled the Countess of Everly. The woman was seventy if she was a day. Which begged the question of why a young earl would be dining with an elderly lady.
“Was it a party or just the two of you?” he asked, despite the impertinence of the question.
“Just the two of us for supper, though my dear friends, Lady Georgiana Fulham and Lady Alice Halisham had joined us for tea. Lady Everly was my grandmother’s close friend,” Castleton explained.
Dev tilted his head slightly to the side as he attempted to paint a picture of the evening. It was highly unusual for a single young earl to take tea and dine with ladies of the sort Castleton had mentioned. Not unheard of, but certainly not what Dev would have expected.
“If you must know,” Castleton continued, “your name was mentioned as part of the conversation.”
“My name?” Dev stiffened in surprise, dreading what they’d been saying about him. The ton was not kind when it came to gossiping about rakish third sons of marquesses who were indiscreet about their many assignations.
“Yes. It was understood that your mother is hosting a ball during the week of the coronation,” Castleton said.
Dev laughed, relieved that had been all the conversation was about. “Yes, she is. Mother fancies herself a maker of society these days. She also has it in her head that a ball will be the perfect way to throw a variety of women at me.”
“Oh, I see,” Castleton said. If Dev did not know better, he would have said the man was disappointed somehow.
“Have you received an invitation?” he asked.
Castleton glanced to him, though it was becoming harder to make out the man’s sweet face clearly as night set in.
“To be honest, I am not certain. My mother receives all invitations to balls for our household. I used to take a great interest in those invitations and in assisting my sisters in selecting their gowns for the events, but my father put a stop to that.”
“He did?” Dev was quickly gaining a greater understanding of who, or rather what, Castleton was.
“Yes.” Castleton looked straight forward as if staring into the abyss. “He deemed such behavior to be unmanly. He has since set about attempting to make me into more of a man by dragging me to the boxing ring, dog and horse races, and sporting matches of all descriptions.”
Dev made a grave sound and nodded.
He thought that would be the end of it, but Castleton was suddenly like a kettle that had been left on to boil for too long.
“I am a terrible shot,” he blurted, something akin to anger or frustration powering his words.
“I have no stomach for the kill. I do not particularly care for horses or riding either. I have no skill with a sword, and I am uninterested in the topics of conversation that most men of my age and class delight in. I did not stand out at Eton or Cambridge, I was bullied and—” His word stopped suddenly and he swallowed, as if remembering terrible things.
Or perhaps merely things that gave him pause.
Dev had attended Oxford, not Cambridge, but he knew the sort of things young men got up to when they were in such an environment.
He’d kissed his first man, and buggered more than a few, during his university days.
A sweet, soft man like Castleton would have had all the attention he could desire on that score at university, even at Eton, whether he’d been willing or not.
“I would rather take tea with Lady Everly and my friends,” Castleton finished quietly, looking down at his feet as they made the final approach to a large house that Dev was reasonably certain belonged to the Duke of Bedminster.
“I would rather discuss the latest fashions from Paris or which country houses have the best gardens or greenhouses than drink, smoke, and gamble at a club.”
Dev’s heart went out to the young man. In the course of their short walk, he’d learned a great deal about the Earl of Castleton.
He was lovely and kind, more intelligent than he was letting on, and he was most decidedly a Uranian.
One of the softer variety, the sort Dev liked very much, at that.
To be all those things and trapped in the role of heir to a dukedom must have been a trial indeed for the man.
“This is your patch?” Dev asked, making light of their arrival in front of Bedminster House.
Castleton glanced mournfully up at the front door, then to Dev. “Yes, it is.”
The sadness and wariness that rolled off Castleton was heartbreaking.
The man was not happy, not even in his own home.
In fact, Dev was reasonably certain home might be the place Castleton felt the least safe.
He’d heard enough stories from his playmates at university and beyond to know how treacherous a man’s own home was when he had different tastes. His heart went out to Castleton.
Still pretending that they were simply two blokes who had met on the street and enjoyed the walk home, Dev turned to Castleton with a quick bow.
“Any time you need my services as a walking companion, particularly at night, you need but ask,” he said, speaking as though it were a jest but meaning it from the bottom of his heart.
“And any time you would like to call upon me at Russell House, I would be most happy to receive you.”
Castleton’s brow shot up. “Truly? You would truly wish to make my acquaintance?”
“Of course,” Dev said with a shrug. “Our walk just now has been delightful. I only wish it could have lasted longer.” He paused, then added, “I feel as though you are in need of someone to talk to, someone who might understand a bit more about the things that trouble you than you might think.”
It was as specific as he dared to be without proof of his suspicions.
If Castleton had been anyone else, he might have invited him over for a night of buggering, but sense, and something deeper in his chest, told him Castleton was far too gentle for such things. Not that they both wouldn’t enjoy them.
“I thank you,” Castleton said, managing a weak smile. “I am most grateful for the offer.”
“And I am happy to make it,” Dev said.
Castleton stared at him for a few more seconds, then pushed himself forward, up to the door of his house.
Dev watched as the butler let him in, waving to him and receiving a small wave in return, as Castleton disappeared inside.
Once he was alone, Dev smiled at the closed door.
Lord Christopher Seymour, Earl of Castleton.
A spark of something sizzled through Dev’s heart, and lower organs, at the thought of the man.
He hoped very much that their paths crossed again, and soon.
His own base interest aside, he had the bittersweet feeling that Castleton needed a friend desperately.