Chapter Seven
Henry
“Henry, have you got five minutes?” Alice asked, sticking her head around the door to Wardrobe where I was being dressed in my full gentlemanly attire for the day. I had to say, I looked just as dashing as I’d thought I would. Regency attire really suited me. “Jenny wants to see you.”
I frowned. Jenny Hall was Llewelyn’s showrunner and a legend in the television industry, especially when it came to period dramas. I’d been dying to work with her for years and when Celeste had told me that she was the creative mind behind the show, I’d increased my begging to be involved.
Apparently Jenny had tried to stick to just writing this one, but when all the nonsense with Kane had happened, she’d decided to come fully on board. I assumed she thought that someone would fuck it up again if she didn’t.
But Jenny didn’t normally request meetings with people unless there was something wrong. Usually she’d just wander up to you and start chatting—there was never any sense of formality.
“Yeah, sure, where is she?” I asked as I finished buttoning my coat.
“Just upstairs in the little study off the music room. I’ll let her know you’re on your way up.”
My boots echoed on the polished floorboards as I walked, my brain racing as it tried to work out what the problem might be.
I hoped they hadn’t decided to let me go, but if they had they wouldn’t be doing the meeting this morning because Celeste would need to be involved.
And I didn’t think she’d summoned Kane, so I doubted it had to do with him.
Especially since I’d heard Jenny singing his praises yesterday to everyone on set.
No, there was something else going on but I didn’t have enough pieces to put it together.
It took me a few false starts to find the room Alice had mentioned, and I made a mental note to get a map from one of the house staff members so I didn’t keep getting lost. It didn’t help that we’d basically been given free rein of most of the house, including parts that were often closed off, and that nothing was labelled.
I had to play detective based on what furniture I could see.
Luckily, the music room had a very grand, polished piano in one corner that wasn’t hard to spot, and on closer investigation I saw a door at the far end. Even though it was open, I still knocked on the frame and waited to be summoned.
“Come in, Henry,” Jenny called. “Don’t lurk.”
I chuckled and strolled inside. The study was a beautiful room with large east-facing windows that overlooked the garden and got most of the morning sun.
Several of the walls had floor-to-ceiling bookcases running along them, and there was a sprawling oak desk in the middle which Jenny was sat behind.
There was a laptop in front of her and papers spread out on either side.
I’d been told this room had once been used by the lady of the house to write letters in, and I smiled that it was still being used for that purpose several hundred years later.
Jenny was in her late sixties with long grey hair and bright blue eyes that didn’t miss anything.
She was wearing a loose shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and there was a leather jacket slung over the back of her chair.
If anyone was expecting her to be stuffy, they’d come looking for the wrong person.
“Don’t you look dashing today,” she said as she looked up from her work. “I like that coat on you. Green suits you.”
“Better than the blue I wore yesterday?”
“Hmm, the blue was nice. But I still think the green.” She gestured at the chair opposite her. “Grab a seat.” I did so, sweeping the ends of the coat out from underneath me as I’d been taught by our on-set Regency expert. Jenny nodded approvingly, then said, “I have a problem.”
“With me?” I asked as my stomach started to twist itself into knots.
“It involves you.”
I sat back in my chair. I appreciated her honesty but it still stung. “Is it because I can’t dance? I am trying, despite what Percy believes.”
“It’s not about the dancing,” she said with a smile. “Percy said you’re improving.”
“Then what… am I in trouble?”
“No. To be totally honest, I think the whole thing is bollocks, but it’s coming down on my head.
Apparently, there are several people—who shall remain nameless—at the streaming service who’ve bought the rights to Llewelyn and at your squeaky-clean superhero studio who are unhappy with what we’re doing. ”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“There’ve been some rumours starting to circulate about Llewelyn, which always happens and we usually quietly encourage. However, because it’s steamy and queer and both you and Kane are involved, there has been some pushback.” Jenny rolled her eyes while cold horror began to seep into my bones.
“Are they cancelling us then?”
“No, and after the fuss with Kane, they’re leaving him out of it and going after you.
Apparently running one of the biggest pop-culture studios on the planet means you have to take a course in being an evil overlord, and there are some people who are trying to suggest that as their all-round protector of the innocent, General Justice, you shouldn’t be allowed to do anything without your clothes on while under their contract.
Especially with another man. Probably because they’re afraid that it will affect their bottom line in the future. ”
“You… You’re fucking kidding,” I said, not sure I could quite believe the words coming out of her mouth. “They’re trying to punish me for being queer? What are they hoping to achieve? Are they trying to threaten me or something? Do they realise how much I hate doing those movies?”
“I don’t know,” Jenny said. “You’d have to ask them. Although I’d advise you not to talk to them directly. Celeste is currently combing through your contracts to see if they’ve somehow tried to stick something equivalent to a morality clause in the small print.”
I stared at her, still not sure what was happening.
It felt like everything I’d worked so hard for was about to be ripped out from under me and there was nothing I could do.
The studio had been incredibly supportive when I’d come out, but there was always a difference between what a corporation said in public and what they did in secret when nobody was looking.
“What does this mean then?” I asked finally. “Are you firing me? I thought you said I wasn’t in trouble.”
“You’re not being fired. I wouldn’t let that happen. And you haven’t done anything wrong, at least not in my opinion.” Jenny sounded like she meant it, but I wasn’t convinced. “There is also one other thing you should know about before we go any further.”
I wanted to ask how it could get any worse, but I wasn’t that stupid. It was common knowledge that as soon as anyone uttered those words, they’d immediately find themselves neck-deep in a bog or being drenched in a torrential downpour.
Jenny turned her laptop around and pointed at the screen. I stared at it, trying to make my confused brain process what I was seeing.
It was a series of pictures of Alex and me that must have been taken yesterday afternoon when we’d walked along the front.
Both of us were still holding our cups, which luckily didn’t have Novel Tea branding on them, and were obviously talking to each other.
There was a headline above the picture, and I knew immediately it was from the online version of a newspaper notorious for trying to stir up drama and scandal while printing as much nonsense as they could in the name of journalism.
I growled. “What the fuck is that?”
“Apparently, someone saw you out in town yesterday with this mysterious young gentleman and took some photographs. People are wondering if you’re together.”
“What the fuck? Why?” I’d always hated the press for this exact reason.
These days it felt like I couldn’t go three bloody feet without someone trying to take my photo, and it had gotten worse since I’d come out.
I wished I’d taken Cas with me because he’d have spotted them and been able to warn me, but I’d wanted Alex to see me as just a person rather than some demanding superstar.
“I don’t know,” Jenny said. She looked as annoyed as I felt.
“Why do these vultures do anything? They’re just looking for any morsel of gossip, especially with you being who you are.
” She huffed. “Hopefully they’ll get bored and bugger off.
But I wanted you to be aware, especially so you can let your boyfriend know. ”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said quickly. “I only met him a few days ago. And usually… well…” I shook my head, not wanting to get into the details of how long it normally took me to convince someone to get off with me. My record was less than five minutes.
Jenny raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “I don’t think you need to explain. Just maybe don’t go walking around with your hook-ups in broad daylight.”
“He’s not that either,” I said, trying not to sound frustrated. “He turned me down. Twice.”
“And you bought him coffee?”
“Yes. Well, sort of. He owns a coffee shop. And I wanted to know why he said no. He pretty much called me an arse to my face and the only person who’s ever done that is my brother, so I wanted to know why he did it.”
“And?”
I thought for a moment, remembering my conversation with Alex.
He’d been a lot more open with me than I’d expected, but there’d been something guarded about him as well.
I had a feeling that he didn’t let many people get close to him and had developed a reputation for being a prickly bastard because it was easier than being vulnerable.
Of course, I could’ve been talking total bollocks since I barely knew him, but he wouldn’t be the first person I knew who’d decided that pushing people away was better than letting them in. In the end it never worked, though, because they were only hurting themselves.