Page 16 of The Demons of Wychwood

CHAPTER 10

THE DEMON WITHIN

Lord Penhelligan set up the bottles of wines and spirits in the dining room without direction, and I supposed he didn’t need any cos he’d attended Wychwood for nigh-on a year and knew what was what.

I carried the platters of pastries, fruits, bread, meats, and cheeses into the room and laid them out on the long dining table. When I was done, I took a crate of bottles and hefted it upstairs. Then I began my routine of marking the doors. I paused when I got to room six and heard footsteps on the stairs. Mr. 45, who I now knew to be General Edward Napier, had reserved this room for use with 27. I turned and saw Kit standing in the hall. He appeared perplexed, his eyes stormy, and fingers rubbing at the wrist he’d slit in his desperation to be rid of his attraction to men, and his bully, General Napier.

“Anything I can do for you, milord?” I asked as I chalked the numbers 45 and 27 on the door. I knew he was going to be fucked raw by that brute tonight, and I could see by his expression and the stiff way he held himself, whether he said it out loud or not, that he didn’t want it.

“Could you…possibly put us in another room? I don’t want a reminder of what happened in room six,” Kit admitted meekly. A stone’s weight dropped into my gut, for I remembered exactly what had happened in there—how Kit was used and coerced into rough couplings to rid him of his ‘demon’. I remembered how Napier had left him, looking wretched and sobbing with self-disgust. The thought of that man touching Kit again made my blood rise and imaginings of slitting the scoundrel's throat were the only thing that would satisfy me. I bit on my lower lip to stop myself from saying what I was thinking.

Why do you keep putting yourself through this?

There are other men, good men who would worship the ground you walk on, so why do you let Napier master you?

For the life of me, I didn’t understand the pull this Edward had over Kit. But I kept those thoughts to myself and just smiled, nodded, and said,

“No trouble at all, milord.”

Our gents were men of routines and habits, and they liked the same rooms. I didn’t want to risk a liaison getting interrupted cos I’d changed the rooms around. I let my eyes run over the purple inked scrawl on my employer’s letter again and saw that no one had reserved room ten. I wiped the numbers off the door of room six with the palm of my hand and marched up the hall to room ten and marked the numbers on that door instead.

I was surprised by the meek request because as my better, Kit Havelock could have made a list of haughty demands. There are those who get a rise from throwing their weight around and making sure that a servant knows who their master is, but Kit didn’t use his power and status around me. Even allowing me to call him Kit was unusual. Kit opened the door of room ten.

“Thank you, Felix. This will suit,” he said flatly as if he was choosing his weapon for a duel. My name on his lips caused another one of those darts of pleasure to twist my innards. Kit stepped into the bed chamber. Room ten was a little bigger than room six and it had French doors that opened onto a balcony overlooking the gardens at Wychwood. There was nothing much to see in the garden at this time of year, especially with a bad winter refusing to release its grip. I remained outside as Kit strode across the room, opened the French doors, and then stepped onto the balcony. A stiff chilly breeze rushed into the room. The winter sun was trying to burn its way through the clouds of fog. As a blackbird began its lonely lilting song, I could almost believe for a moment that we were in the deep countryside.

Kit closed the French doors and moved back into the room. I lit the fire that had been prepared. Kit sat heavily in a hearth chair and sighed. I left milord to his thoughts again and returned to room one where I set a bottle of Cognac, fat cigars, a lady’s nightgown, silk stockings, and strips of red ribbon as per the instructions. Room two required handcuffs, a paddle, and a length of chain – all of which I retrieved from the toy box, a quite innocuous wooden travelling chest that sat in the hallway. I busied myself until all, but one room was prepared. My blood chilled as I read that 45 had requested the set of leather restraints for wrists and ankles. I wondered if Kit knew about this request and got my answer when I knocked on the door of room ten and entered at his call of “Come in.” The colour drained from his face when he saw what I was holding. I recalled that 45 had requested the restraints before, around six months ago, so they were not a regular fixture for their bed play, I expect they were more of a punishment. I stopped dead at seeing the expression of dread on Kit’s face.

“Are you alright, milord? This was on the list of requirements. None of my business, but I take it you didn’t request it?”

“Um… no, I most certainly did not.” The low pained timbre of his voice meant I had to strain to hear the reply. I left the leather restraints on the blanket chest at the bottom of the bed. When I turned back to Kit, he was curled into himself in the hearthside chair, his head in his hands. We had four hours before the house opened and the part of me that wanted to protect Kit was growing bigger and stronger. I hated seeing him like this and I knew there was a reason he’d remained at the house with me all afternoon. I just had to find out what it was.

“Forgive me, milord, Kit. But downstairs you said we was friends, and if that’s the case, friends help each other when they’re in trouble.” I paused to weigh up whether I should proceed, cos the fact he was a Duke, and I was just a servant was never far from my mind. Kit didn’t move.

“If you got something troubling you, I’m a good listener. I won’t tell no one. I’ll do what I can to help you.” I stepped closer to his chair and each step felt like I was walking on shards of glass. He could have roared at me for my impertinence, lashed out and reminded me of my place, but instead in that same soft pained voice he said,

“No one can help me. I’m cursed forever.”

“No, you bloody ain’t!” I burst out, unable to keep my frustration inside any longer.

Kit looked up with large watery eyes. “I am,” he said despairingly. “Edward has been trying to help me for years, but he’s concluded that I’m a lost cause. I’ve wanted to sever our…arrangement too, but Edward won’t allow it. The…restraints are to remind me who’s in charge. I disobeyed him…before….I fought him. He’ll tell me that this is for my own good…that he’s doing God’s work, driving the demon from my body, but…he gets pleasure from my pain.” Kit paused for a breath. “I knew a long time ago that he enjoyed hurting me, but I was too scared of myself…I thought I must deserve it.”

I was taken aback by that revelation. Kit didn’t deserve to be hurt for Napier’s pleasure. Napier was a brute and a damn liar. That cove enjoyed buggery as much as any molly I’d ever met. To pretend he wasn’t queer and say he was doing God’s work was horse shit.

“I take it you don’t want any of this?” I said gesturing toward the wicked restraints on the blanket chest at the end of the bed.

“No.”

My head spun and rage burned beneath my skin. I had to be sure that Kit truly hated Napier and it wasn’t a twisted game they played with each other. “So, I was right. This ain’t no love match.”

“Most certainly not!” he said outraged.

“But I still don’t understand. What does he have on you that would bind you to him and allow him to treat you so badly?

“Damn your eyes!” Kit roared in frustration. “Can you not see? I’m an abomination and my attraction to men is…an ungodly disease.”

“That ain’t true,” I insisted.

“Edward discovered my…demon when I was sixteen. He told me I was sick, wrong…I had to let him drive it from me. He said I could not ever share myself with anyone else. It was his duty to protect the family, and if I didn’t submit, he’d ruin me and tell mother that I’m a sodomite—I was sure such a revelation would kill her.”