Chapter Thirteen #2
It had been an interesting night. In some ways, Anthony was back in his element.
Lark had spent a lot of the night in his orbit, and Anthony had been in his old self—charming, witty, self-deprecating.
Some of the light had come back to him. It was an enormous relief to see Anthony looking so well.
But Lark could also tell that Anthony was bone-deep tired, that some of his wit and charm was masking sadness and fatigue.
The latter was subtle, and most who did not know Anthony well would not have spotted it, but Lark could see it.
“Did you take your carriage?” Anthony asked once they were outside.
Lark lived nearby as well, and walking was hardly a burden.
“I did not. I find, especially in weather like this, I prefer to walk. It is a ridiculous show of wealth to take a carriage such a short distance when the weather is this fine. Perhaps if I were a woman with all those skirts and the little, delicate shoes that are fashionable right now…”
Anthony looked around and, apparently feeling satisfied with what he saw—which was nothing; there were no people or animals on the street—said, “So Rotherfeld is a piece of work.”
“Anything aside from the obvious?”
“The house party in Kent that I mentioned—”
“It was one of Roscoe’s affairs, you said?
I went to one once. I can imagine.” Lord Roscoe periodically held house parties at his country estate that were mostly an excuse to put a lot of beautiful people under the same roof so that they could have sex with each other in various combinations.
It had proved too overwhelming for Lark, but he could picture a younger Anthony flourishing there.
“I was young,” Anthony said with a shrug.
“Not that young. You said it was only four years ago.”
Anthony grinned. Lark was happy to see it. Anthony said, “Well, let’s just say, I was not interested in anything so conventional as a monogamous relationship until relatively recently. I’ve matured, you see.”
“Of course.
They walked a few paces toward Anthony’s house in companionable silence.
“That other fellow Rotherfeld was talking to, Lieutenant Hanley?” Anthony said.
“Chatterton’s brother?”
“The same. He and Rotherfeld have been thick as thieves for a long time. Rotherfeld… he brought Hanley to our bed once.”
Lark laughed. “Your life.”
“I know, I know. I promise all that is behind me. I am just saying, that night, I felt a bit extraneous. I believe that Rotherfeld and Hanley have been lovers on and off for a very long time. That night they seemed to have eyes only for each other.”
“In other words, Rotherfeld is about to do what I would not let you do.”
When Anthony married, Lark had expected him to be faithful to his wife and said as much. Rotherfeld seemed to feel no such compulsion.
“Indeed,” said Anthony. “The thing of it is, Rotherfeld and Hanley do not seem to require any sort of commitment or exclusive relationship, which is their prerogative, and I think it’s because Hanley is so often overseas.
Back in those days, when Rotherfeld and I had our brief affair, Hanley was serving in Wellington’s army on the Continent.
So it is likely that they do not require fealty to each other because they are so often separated by geography and Hanley’s obligations to the army and, prior to Waterloo, the decent odds Hanley would meet his end on a battlefield.
Thankfully, Napoleon has been dispatched with, so Hanley’s life is no longer in danger.
But that does not bode well for Louisa if she goes through with the wedding. ”
“Let us hope Fletcher follows through tonight, if that is the case.”
They arrived at Anthony’s home. Anthony said, “You may as well come inside.”
“I thought you were tired.”
“I am, although I was also starting to…well, let us just say, my social muscles have atrophied. I was starting to feel that I’d had enough of the ball. But I never tire of your company.”
So Lark followed Anthony inside. The butler took Lark’s coat, and all of this was achingly familiar.
When Lark and Anthony had been meeting regularly for assignations, one of them always followed the other home after a ball or some other occasion.
Lark did not think he’d be spending the night with Anthony, but that was all right. He’d settle for further conversation.
He’d seen the spark in Anthony tonight, like his old self was starting to break through again.
In the sitting room, alone again, Lark said, “I hate that my jealousy spikes when you speak of your past.”
“You have nothing to fear. I have very little respect for Rotherfeld.”
“Do you have regrets?”
Anthony appeared to consider it. “About my past dalliances? No, not really. Back in those days, everything was light and easy. I was young and stupid and fearless, so I did what brought me pleasure without much consideration of the consequences. I wish I still had a bit of that fearlessness.”
“I feel like I’m the one who took it away.”
“Perhaps, but I’d really rather nothing happened to me now. Henry needs me.”
“That is true.”
“And perhaps you need me.”
That was definitely true, but Lark didn’t say anything.
Anthony fiddled with the cart in the corner that held his liquor but seemed to think better of it. Instead, he walked over to stand with Lark in the center of the room. “You’ve never judged me, you know.”
“I definitely have.”
Anthony smirked. “I mean, you don’t judge my past indiscretions.
“It would make me a hypocrite.”
“Lark, I think we should face the fact that we are two damaged people who have no business together and yet we are here, and I can’t say I regret it. You still love me.”
“Yes. I’ll never stop.”
“I’ve never stopped loving you, either.”
Lark sighed and decided to take that in and savor it. He closed his eyes for a moment.
“You told me to marry, so I did. I did it for you and for my mother and to help Matilda. And I suppose I did it for myself, not for love but because I felt an obligation. That is a foolish reason to marry.”
“And yet people have done just that for centuries.”
“My point is just that I love you, you fool, and if I could, I would marry you tomorrow, but that is not the world we live in. At the same time, I feel so much pain and guilt and fear over everything that has happened in the last year and will happen in the next, and I don’t know where to put it.”
Lark took a few steps closer to Anthony, close enough to touch him. So Lark put his hands on Anthony’s shoulders and then ran them up his neck to cup his cheeks. “Let me help you,” Lark said.
Then Lark kissed Anthony for the first time in a year.
Anthony sighed into his mouth and put anchoring hands on Lark’s waist. Lark parted his lips and tasted Anthony, and it was at once exciting and familiar. Kissing Anthony felt like coming home.
“You were right, you know,” Anthony said after they parted gently.
“About?”
“Charlie Ingle.”
Lark cursed. He of course knew the story of Charlie Ingle.
Lark had known Charlie mostly by reputation.
He was the youngest son of a baron, the scion of an absurdly wealthy if not especially politically powerful family.
He’d run afoul of someone, was the way Lark had heard the story, perhaps won a bet against a vindictive man.
Lark wasn’t certain of the details. But all it took was one man going to the authorities to explain that Charlie Ingle was, in fact, one of London’s most notorious sodomites for Charlie to be hanged.
Lark had avoided the execution, although he’d heard after the fact that it was a spectacle.
Lark had thought society had grown more sophisticated than public executions, but apparently not if it meant hanging a sodomite.
In point of fact, the city had put more sodomites to death than murderers so far this year.
Lark and Anthony had some insulation due to their wealth, power, and connections, but Lark found, until recently, the constant fear that he’d run afoul of the wrong man to be a weight on his shoulders that felt too overwhelming.
But perhaps the fact that Anthony had, in fact, married and fathered a child won him some goodwill.
And perhaps Lark would rather die than live without Anthony.
He pressed his face against Anthony’s shoulder. “I didn’t want to be right.”
“I know. And I want to be able to say that Charlie Ingle was reckless. I mean, everyone knew what he was.”
“Did you ever—?”
“With Charlie? No. I don’t believe I ever actually spoke to him.
He stopped coming to society events years ago.
But this is my point. I recognize the dangers, Lark, I do, but I also think Charlie Ingle acted in a way that was too risky.
You and I, we can keep our relationship quiet and disclose it to only people we trust and…
I’ve given some thought to leaving London, perhaps for good. ”
“You’re not serious.”
“A year ago, I never would have entertained the possibility, but Henry changes things. I’m all he has. I can’t take risks that I used to feel I could. But at the same time, now that I know the unique misery of living without you? I can’t do that either.”
“Are we at an impasse?”
“No. I view it as a turning point. I will do anything to keep my family safe, and you, Lark, are my family. So if I have to leave London to keep us all safe, then so be it.”
Lark kissed Anthony again. He had no intention of leaving Anthony again because he knew how miserable that would make him, but he’d do anything to keep Anthony and little Henry safe, too.
“I love you,” Lark said.
“Mm. I love you, too. And I’d invite you to bed, but I believe I’ll need to have a chat with my staff before I can allow that. Some of the staff came from my other house and are… aware of us, but I need to stop any gossip before it starts.”
“So that’s it. We’re picking up where we left off a year ago.”