Chapter 1 #2
It did not take long at all for his attention to be caught and captivated.
There, seated at a table in the corner, a mountain of ledgers in front of him, was a young man with fair hair and a complexion that did not appear to have seen the sun for quite some time.
He was sober and focused on his work in a room that was filled with light and merriment.
The contrast was irresistible, so Howard made his way over to him.
“Might I sit here?” he asked gracefully, careful to keep his voice deep and honeyed.
The serious young man blinked a few times, then glanced up at Howard with the sort of surprise that hinted he might not even have been aware that there were other people in the room or that it was so busy and festive.
He blinked again, then reached for some of his books and papers to pull them aside, saying, “Yes, certainly.” He grabbed one letter in particular that had been atop his pile and tucked it away as far from Howard as he could, as if it held some sordid secret.
Howard put on his most appealing smile as he sat, settling his plate in front of him. He left himself open to engagement, leaning subtly closer to the pretty young man. But with a short smile and a slight flush to his cheeks, the man went back to work on the ledgers before him.
Howard did not know whether to laugh or to be put out by the man’s apparent lack of interest. Whoever he was, he could not be entirely disinterested.
The color on his cheeks spread quickly and deeply, and as Howard continued to regard him while cutting into his cold beef, he noticed that the man seemed unable to continue writing whatever sums he’d been working on.
“Are you a mathematician of some sort?” Howard asked, knowing his guess was wrong but using it to prompt the man to speak.
“Er, no,” the man said, peeking up at Howard again. “I am an accountant.”
“Oh, I see,” Howard said. Now that he had dragged the man from his work, he was determined to keep his attention.
“And what, pray tell, does an accountant do?” He knew, of course.
He had a man of business of his own who handled his accounts.
But he was so eager to captivate the young man to the point of winning his affection, and hopefully landing him on his back in his bed, that he was willing to feign ignorance.
The man sat a bit straighter, evidently giving up on his work for the moment. “I handle the financial accounts of several members of The Brotherhood,” he said.
“Do many of its members require your services?” he asked.
“Quite a few,” the young man said. “Whether because they have been let down by previous accountants and solicitors or whether because they simply feel more comfortable doing business within the walls of The Chameleon Club, I have been able to acquire a fairly extensive clientele here.”
“Good for you,” Howard said. He’d just finished chewing a bite while the man spoke, so he put down his fork and held out his hand to the man. “Howard Bradford,” he introduced himself. “Agent for the South Eastern Railway and something of a fortunate investor in the railroads myself.”
In fact, he’d amassed quite a fortune, not only on the railroads, but through other keen investments as well.
The young man’s eyebrows went up slightly, not as if he was surprised to learn who Howard was, but as if he was shocked someone of renown would introduce himself so intimately. He took Howard’s hand in his own, soft one and smiled tremulously. “Yves Clermont,” he said.
“It is indeed a pleasure to meet you,” Howard said in his most seductive voice, closing his other hand around Clermont’s and staring at him heatedly.
Clermont’s flush face stained even darker. “I…er…that is…it is nice to meet you as well,” he said, adorably flustered.
Oh, yes. Yves Clermont would be the perfect playmate for his Christmas holiday at The Chameleon Club. Howard could already sense how sweet and delectable the young man would be once he had him between the sheets.
“The railroad, you say?” Clermont asked, pulling his hand away from Howard’s and taking up his pen as if he could fend Howard off with it, though he did not feel the sort of true fear or disinterest from the man which would have made him back off entirely.
“Yes.” Howard picked up his fork and knife and went back to eating, puzzling out the best way to seduce a man as timid as Clermont.
“I work as an agent for the South Eastern Railway. I have been employed by them, traveling through Sussex and Kent to survey the land and to negotiate with landowners so that they might sell bits of their land to the railway.”
“I have heard quite a bit about the quick advancement of the railroad,” Clermont said, fiddling with his pen, though he was exceedingly polite in the way he gave Howard his attention.
“Railroads are the future of industry and transportation in this country and beyond. I have heard that fortunes will be made by investors and the companies themselves.”
“Fortunes have already been made,” Howard said with a wolfish smile. He leaned closer to Clermont and continued with. “Fortunes have been lost already. Investing is a tricky game, but when one knows how to play it, great things are possible.”
He slipped one hand casually across the table, stroking his fingertips over the back of Clermont’s hand.
Clermont shuddered slightly, pulling his hand away only after he’d watched Howard’s fingers brush him.
His flush grew even more pronounced. The way he squirmed slightly told Howard that his touch had sparked a reaction in other areas of the man’s body that could not be seen, seated at the table as they were.
It was the exact sort of information he needed to know that the young man could be seduced.
If Clermont had been completely closed off to the idea of pleasure, Howard would have left him alone.
But he smelled blood, and as the wolf he was at heart, he was determined to go after what they both wanted.
“I have been studying the railroad business,” Clermont began, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat, then seemed to school himself into seriousness, like a man twice his age. “I do not have the funds to invest in it myself, but if I did, I might consider learning more.”
“All it takes is a few pounds to start,” Howard said. “Money begets more money, if you know how. I would be more than happy to show you how to expose yourself to the needs and desires of the market and how to surrender to its forces.”
His words were nonsense, of course, but he and Clermont both knew he was not speaking of railroad stocks or financial markets.
Clermont gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing temptingly. “I…I do not know if I could,” he said shyly, glancing away.
“But of course you could,” Howard said, reaching for his fork once more to satisfy one sort of hunger before working on the other. “I would be more than happy to teach you everything I know.” He wiggled his eyebrows for good measure.
Clermont seemed to choke on nothing. “I couldn’t,” he said, flushing again. “I have a great deal of work to do. My clients are relying on me…I have a duty…I must maintain my focus.”
Howard arched one eyebrow slightly. That was an odd way to put thing.
“Work is important, yes,” he agreed. “But it is the Christmas season. One must also take time to enjoy oneself.”
“Truly, I cannot,” Clermont said with surprising firmness.
Howard stared at him for a moment as he finished his dinner.
There was something behind the way he refused, something that made Howard’s rakish heart turn tender for a moment.
Clermont would not be the first of their sort to have been burned in some way and left with scars that made them afraid to accept the touch of another man.
He found that sort of fear and reticence frustrating, however.
It was useless and defeatist to let the judgmental world keep one from pleasure and passion.
His plans as regards to Yves Clermont shifted slightly. He would not simply seduce the man, he would teach him to embrace life and pleasure again. The more he studied Clermont, the more he was certain that was what ailed him.
“You can do whatever you set your mind to, Yves Clermont,” Howard said, finishing his dinner and putting his cutlery on his place. “Do not let the strictures of the world hold you back.”
“The world has quite a lot of strictures,” Clermont argued.
“And The Chameleon Club does not.” Howard pushed back his plate and stood. “Now, why do you not let your accounting rest for a moment and join me in joining the others who are decorating this lovely establishment.”
“Oh, I couldn’t,” Clermont said, glancing down at his work. More specifically, he looked at the corner where he’d placed the letter that had been at the forefront of his business earlier.
“I insist,” Howard said, holding out his hand to the man.
Clermont hesitated. He bit his lip in a fashion that had Howard’s heart beating harder and his trousers tightening. So much earnestness wrapped up in such a sweet parcel was more than he could possibly resist.
“Well, I suppose it would hurt nothing to leave things for a moment to help out,” Clermont said at last. “In the spirit of brotherliness.”
“That’s it,” Howard said, smiling his most alluring smile.
Clermont gazed up at him, and Howard saw unmistakable desire and interest in the man’s blue eyes. More than that, Clermont slipped his hand into Howard’s and allowed him to help him to stand.
He had him. Clermont would be his within a matter of days. Perhaps it would be a merry Christmas after all.