Chapter 3
Three
Yves Clermont was the most fascinating creature Howard had ever met.
From the moment he watched the high-strung young man scamper away at the mere hint of a kiss to that evening, after Howard had a bath and a nap, to when he’d watched Yves from across The Chameleon Club’s crowded dining room at supper.
All throughout the next day, as he visited with old friends and kept one eye on his new interest, at least some part of Howard’s awareness was fixed on Yves.
It was not until the dawn of the second day of his Christmastide stay at The Chameleon Club, as he came down to breakfast to find Yves already toiling away at his accounting books, that Howard realized he had yet to take any of the highly willing members of The Brotherhood who subtly vied for his attention to bed.
“This isn’t like you at all,” Thurleigh observed as he, Howard, and Haythorne sat together for breakfast at one of the smaller tables in the lively dining room. “Generally, you’ve singled out a favorite by now and have him dandling on your knee, so to speak.”
Howard laughed, but Haythorne shook his head and held up the slice of toast he’d just spread jam across.
“No, no,” he corrected his partner. “Bradford has most definitely chosen his mark for this visit, he merely has yet to let go of the bowstring so that Cupid’s arrow might pierce Clermont’s heart. ”
Howard chuckled at the analogy. He was about as far from Cupid as could be. Old Dionysus himself was more like it. And he would have simply overpowered Yves with seduction the very day they’d met…but something held him back.
He sighed as he picked up his coffee and watched Yves at the other side of his room.
The young man was like some sort of porcelain doll that begged to be put up on a high shelf, where he would be protected from harm.
It was not at all like Howard to feel protective toward the objects of his desire.
Respectful, yes. Caring and concerned with their pleasure and contentment as much as his, also yes.
Very much so. But protective? That was a new sensation entirely.
Perhaps that was why he did not simply rush in to make his conquest early so that he might enjoy Yves for the entire short duration of his stay.
He could have, of course, and perhaps a few nights of pleasure were precisely what the man needed to exhale and unwind.
That could not be all that was at stake, however.
“Oh, dear,” Thurleigh said. When Howard dragged his eyes away from Yves’ sunny hair, hunched shoulders, and the way he bit his lip while working figures, he found his friends grinning at him. “This is a very different emotion to what we are used to seeing from you.”
“No, it is not,” Howard insisted. “I am merely intrigued by the man and prolonging my anticipation to make the eventual conquest all the sweeter.”
“Oh yes, that must be it,” Thurleigh said with thick sarcasm.
Haythorne was not quite so intent on teasing. “Have a care with Clermont,” he said, sending a compassionate glance Yves’ way. “He has had a rough go of it these last few years.”
A sudden feeling of victory filled Howard’s chest. “I have sensed a certain reticence about the man.”
“Clermont’s is a sad story, but one that is all too typical for our lot,” Haythorne began, sitting back and cradling his cup of tea.
“His family escaped the guillotine back during The Troubles for one. They were forced to flee France in the middle of the night with only the belongings they could carry. Once they arrived on English shores, they knew no one and were treated with suspicion. Within weeks, their once noble family was reduced to clerical and seamstress work simply to survive.”
“But survive they did,” Thurleigh picked up the story. “They made respectable lives for themselves. But that is not the aim of this particular story.” He stared at Haythorne with a look that said to get to the point.
Haythorne nodded and continued. “As I understand it, Clermont was always a quick and clever young man. He secured a place at Oxford and excelled in his studies. He also excelled in other pursuits, if some of the rumors are to be believed.” Haythorne’s cheeky look said everything.
Howard was immediately jealous of every blackguard who had had his little angel. That was another sign that something out of the ordinary was at work in him. Jealousy was not a familiar emotion to him.
“By the time he left Oxford,” Haythorne went on, “he had a lover, David. They were original members of The Brotherhood and we all certainly believed them to be happy and secure together.”
“Until the bastard callously abandoned Clermont in his darkest hour,” Thurleigh added with a growl.
Howard sat straighter, clenching his hand around the fork he’d taken up to eat his eggs. Without even knowing the story yet, he wanted to thrust that fork into this David’s eye.
“Clermont lived at home by that point,” Haythorne continued. “He has a twin sister, Yvette, who married a prosperous grocer several years ago, but they also have an older brother, Guillame.”
“It was Guillame that ruined things,” Thurleigh picked up the story.
“Clermont believed his brother to be away on business, so he invited David over to the house. Only, Guillame did not stay away. He returned to the house unexpectedly and caught Clermont in an exceedingly compromising act with David.”
“If what Clermont told us when he arrived, panicked and tearful, at The Chameleon Club that night is true, and I absolutely believe it is, Guillame raised hell and called the police to have his own brother arrested for sodomy.”
“Poor Clermont had only the things he could throw into a single valise when he arrived that night,” Thurleigh took over again. “We put him up in one of the club’s rooms, but we did not imagine he would be a resident for three years.”
“Three years?” Howard asked, incredulous.
Haythorne shrugged. “His brother has been searching for him ever since that night, though his efforts have become far less intense since those first six months.”
“Still, Clermont has not left the sanctuary of The Chameleon Club, not even for a stroll in Hyde Park, in all those three years,” Thurleigh added.
“And this David fellow?” Howard asked in a threatening growl.
“Gone,” Thurleigh said sadly. “Apparently, he and Clermont had words. David accused Clermont of carelessness and selfishness. What Clermont believed to be a beautiful love affair turned into recriminations and spite within the blink of an eye.”
“I believe that hurt him more than his brother’s threat of the law,” Haythorne said. “He was like a ghost of himself for those first few months residing under our roof.”
“And he has stayed here ever since?” Howard asked.
“He has,” Thurleigh confirmed.
Howard blew out a breath and sank back in his seat. He glanced across the room at Clermont once more. Thank God for The Brotherhood and the sanctuary of The Chameleon Club. Without it, there was no telling what sort of danger Clermont might have fallen into.
In an instant, Howard made up his mind what was to be done.
Clermont had suffered at the hands of a cruel brother and a fickle lover.
He deserved a moment or two of indulgence and care.
Plans instantly began to form in Howard’s mind.
He would take Clermont out to the finest restaurant in all of London, treat him to a show at the Royal Theater Drury Lane, then spend the night with him in the safety of his suite at The Chameleon Club, where he would show him levels of pleasure that the man had likely never known at the hands of his previous lovers.
He would leave Clermont with the finest memories to keep him warm through the rest of the winter and beyond. And who knew? Perhaps he could become a regular acquaintance of his when he returned to England in the future.
“If you will excuse me, gentlemen,” he said, pushing his chair back and standing. “I feel the need to bring Christmas cheer to one who is in desperate need of it.”
Thurleigh laughed gently, and so did Haythorne, but Haythorne added, “Really, do have a care, Bradford. Clermont is not one of your usual playthings,” as Howard walked away.
That charge hit Howard awkwardly. He did not see his companions, regardless of how short a term he knew them, as playthings.
They were friends, comrades of the night, not disposable bodies to enjoy then leave.
It had never occurred to him that there might be some out there who saw his enjoyments as cruel in any way.
He pushed those disturbing thoughts to the back of his mind as he reached Clermont’s table and helped himself to a seat next to the young man.
“How is it that you have so much to occupy yourself when Christmas is mere days away?” he asked by way of instigating a conversation.
Clermont sucked in a quick breath and looked up at Howard with wide eyes. There was a hint of wariness in those eyes, but Howard saw sparks of lust and curiosity as well. If he had not, he would not have continued.
“Have the numbers stolen your ability to speak?” he asked, nodding to the books in front of Clermont.
“No, no, not at all,” Clermont said, quickly putting down his pen and closing one of his ledgers. “I can speak when spoken to.”
That statement, too, struck Howard entirely wrong. “You can speak as freely as you’d like around me,” he said, boldly taking one of Clermont’s hands and holding it in both of his. “I have been told that I am a comforting ear to tell things to,” he continued, smiling invitingly at the young man.
“Oh?” There was a shiver in the single syllable of Clermont’s response.
“Yes,” Howard said. “I have seen much of the world, known many people of all sorts, and learned a great deal about the ways of the world. Some say that makes me an ideal counselor in times of trouble. And I understand you have seen some troubles?”