Chapter 5
Five
Howard had never been one for mornings. Pesky, unpleasant things.
He would much rather have whiled away the early hours in sensual comfort with an equally languid lover.
He had a vague memory of Clermont being more of the lark sort, rising from the bed where they’d enjoyed each other so thoroughly throughout the night to…
do what? What work could possibly be more appealing than dozing away until noon with him?
He'd fallen back into a heavy, dreamy sleep in which Clermont was frolicking joyfully on a Mediterranean beach, shirt unlaced, blue eyes bright, skin granted a bit of color after England.
His imagination was so alluring that he awoke for the second time with an impressive morning tumescence.
He reached for Clermont…and was alarmed to find his sweet angel no longer in bed with him.
Indignant, he sat up, rubbed his face, and looked around. The room was empty but for himself and Clermont’s clothing was gone.
With a frown, he remembered the half-asleep conversation he’d had with the man. He did not like what he recalled himself saying. He feared he had given the man an impression of indifference, which was far from the truth. If he was not mistaken, Clermont had seemed disappointed.
“This will not do at all,” he muttered to himself, rising and heading straight for the screen that hid the necessities.
He washed and dressed as quickly as he could.
Something deep within him felt far more unsettled than was usual.
He’d had more lovers than he could count, most of them of the extremely temporary variety.
He’d never cared before whether they stayed with him or set off for the farthest corners of the earth.
But Clermont was different. Clermont was gentle, yet passionate.
He was intelligent, but also had a certain naiveté about him.
Howard had made him sigh and moan with pleasure, but now he longed to hear the man laugh, to see his lazy smile as they lounged on the veranda of some Italian villa, gazing out over the green of vineyards and the blue of oceans.
He wanted to discuss the railroad with his angel and even argue over the duties of industry and governments toward people.
In short, he wanted to actually get to know Clermont, not just to enjoy him and cast him aside. The man called to him.
As soon as he was dressed, he hurried downstairs to the club’s dining room.
It came as a surprise to him that so many men were already seated around the tables spread throughout the room.
The scents of bacon and bread filled his nose, and the cheery sight of the decorations that had been erected the day before gave the dining room a decidedly festive air.
But Clermont was not there, which made the entire place pale.
“Can I help you, sir?” Giles, one of the footmen employed by the club approached Howard.
There was no point in being coy or keeping secrets. Organizations like The Brotherhood had few secrets at any rate.
“Have you seen Mr. Clermont?” he asked.
Giles smiled as if he knew all. “He is on his way out just now,” the young man said. “He received a letter from his sister, and do you know, this time I think he might actually summon up the courage to leave.”
Howard stared at the young man in confusion, but only for a moment. Everything within him urged him to go after Clermont. Something was not right.
He strode down the hall, glad for his long legs and quick stride, and found Clermont standing strangely by the club’s front door. “Clermont?” he called after him, confused about why his angel was so stiff and so hesitant.
Clearly, Clermont was not aware of him. Howard was uncertain whether he was aware of much of anything. He turned the handle and pulled the door open, then made some sort of terrified sound before stepping outside into the December chill.
“Clermont, you are not wearing a coat,” Howard said, his concern deepening as he marched to the doorway and followed his angel outside.
Something was most definitely wrong. Though Howard could not see much from behind the man, he was certain Clermont had gone even more pale than usual. More than that, he seemed to melt before Howard’s eyes, sagging slowly until he fell to the pavement in front of the club.
“Clermont!”
Howard rushed to him just as his angel curled himself into a ball. The keening sounds of fear that Clermont made set Howard’s teeth on edge and caused his heart to bleed. He had never seen or heard such a thing, and if affected him deeply.
“I’ve got you,” he said, careful not to frighten the already insensible man as he crouched to lift Clermont into his arms. Passersby paused to watch the scene, but Howard ignored them. “There, there.”
He carried Clermont back into the club. Giles and one of the other footmen had witnessed the entire scene and rushed to close the door behind him.
“I was worried he couldn’t do it,” Giles said with genuine concern. He gestured for Howard to follow him back down the main hallway to one of the more private sitting rooms.
“Worried he could not leave the building?” Howard questioned him.
“He hasn’t left in three years,” Giles said.
Howard gaped at him as he moved to sit on one of the sofas, Clermont still cradled in his arms and insensible. Thurleigh and Haythorne had told him as much, but the concept was so foreign to him that he hadn’t truly believed it. Until now.
Giles went on. “He’s tried to go out before, but he has fits like this. Although this is the worst one I’ve seen. Must be his brother’s death.”
Howard caught his breath. Clermont’s brother had died? The one that Thurleigh and Haythorne said had discovered him and threatened to inform the police about his activities?
“Fetch tea,” he ordered Giles. “And perhaps smelling salts.”
“No smelling salts,” Clermont said, slurring his words as he came out of his stupor.
“There you are, my angel,” Howard said, his heart beating harder as Clermont blinked rapidly then turned his sad, blue eyes up to him.
“Oh, dear,” Clermont said, then scrambled to extract himself from Howard’s hold.
Howard let him go, but only as far as sitting on the sofa beside him. Even then, he kept his arm around Clermont’s back. “Breathe,” he ordered the man. “Take a moment. You’ve had something of a fright.”
Clermont breathed in, but on his exhale, his entire body sagged into dejected misery. “It was not a fright, it was a fit,” he said, turning his face away from Howard.
Howard did not like that at all. He caressed the side of Clermont’s face and turned him so that Clermont was forced to look at him. Then, since Giles had discreetly left the room to fetch the tea, Howard kissed Clermont’s lips tenderly.
The affection and surprise of the kiss did exactly what Howard hoped it would. Clermont gasped and shuddered, as if returning to his senses. Even then, he was harder on himself than Howard wanted to hear.
“I am sorry,” he said. “I must appear as such a fool to you.”
“No, you do not, darling,” Howard said, rubbing his hand over Clermont’s back. “You seem like a man who has had a shock is all.”
He noticed the letter Clermont still had clutched in his hand. It was not his place, not really, but he eased the letter out of his hand and turned it so that he could scan it.
As soon as he saw the content, he was surprised that Clermont had let him read it.
“Your brother is being buried today?” he asked softly. Clermont nodded. “I have been given to understand that your brother was something of a beast. This letter seems to confirm it.”
“He destroyed my life,” Clermont said quietly. “He has set the police against me. If they find me, then I will be hanged.”
Howard very much doubted that was true. Yes, the law was firmly against their sort, but public opinion was another thing.
Clermont also had the protection of The Brotherhood.
He had Howard’s own protection, and Howard flattered himself to believe that he was too highly placed and far too wealthy to ever be prosecuted for his proclivities.
Sad and unfair as it was, only poor men and sailors who were caught in the act were dragged before the law and executed for love.
“I can assure you that you are quite safe,” he said carefully, not wanting to upset Clermont by disagreeing with him.
“You have been out of society for three years now. I believe it is highly likely that the authorities do not even know of your existence anymore, let alone that they might be seeking you out.”
Clermont made a sound halfway between a laugh and a moan.
“That may be true, but you saw me just now,” he said, slowly glancing up at Howard with a look of mortification in his eyes.
“I cannot leave the club. My mind will not allow it. I shall exchange Newgate for Bedlam if I am seen to cower in fear at nothing every time I step into the fresh air.”
Howard frowned in thought. He had a point there. The world was not only cruel to men who loved other men. It was cruel to any who were deemed different or disturbed.
As he puzzled through what to do next, Clermont leaned toward him, then sagged against his side entirely, sighing mournfully. If it had not been such a sad gesture of defeat, Howard’s heart might have burst with the beautiful sentimentality of it.
“There, there,” he said, kissing the top of Clermont’s head and shifting so that he could draw the man into a hug. “All will be well, you will see.”
“It will not,” Clermont lamented. “I am a broken man. My sister and my brother’s family need me, but I cannot even step out into the sunlight. I am fragile when I should be strong and weak where I should step up and take charge.”
Every word that sighed from his angel’s mouth made Howard adore the man more.
“You have nothing to worry about,” he said, intent on being the strength Clermont needed. “Healing happens in its own time.” He thought for a moment, then said. “I propose a plan.”