Page 18 of The Demons of Wychwood

Money and station didn’t matter here, cos evil can work its way into the hearts of rich and poor alike. I was furious that General Edward Napier had gotten away with hurting his fine man for six years.

“Napier is a bloody hypocrite and a sodomite pretending that he ain’t. If you’re a sinner, so is he. If you’re sick, so is he! You’re not sick Kit, you just love differently, and the only judge of that is God, not Edward Napier!” I was shouting now, and I couldn’t help it.

Kit appeared struck dumb by my passionate outrage, and I wondered if anyone had ever spoken to him so frankly or if I’d gone too far.

“Have you ever told anyone else about how you want to be loved?” I asked directly.

He shook his head. “Only Singeon, but that was a long, long time ago,”

I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees. “You’re a clever man Kit. Think about it. You frequent a secret molly house with a group of powerful men all who get pleasure from laying with each other. Some of them like to dress in lady's garb, some of them like to get spanked, or tied down; others just want to be held and kissed. This is a safe place for them to love without fear. Are they all sick too? Do they all have demons inside them? Do they deserve to be punished?” I asked. “Is Napier going door-to-door and sticking it to all of them too with his magic prick?” I paused for a breath to bank my anger.

“All you’ve known is the pain of your desire for a male bed partner. But, Kit, it doesn’t have to be that way,” I implored. “I’ve seen how the men who come here love each other, and I know that men really can love as a man loves a woman. It’s beautiful and—“

Kit’s eyes widened, “What do you mean; you’ve seen how the men who come here love?”

Oh shit. Looks like I’d put my foot in it.

“Tell me!” Kit demanded and his eyes flashing stormily.

I ran a worried hand over my mouth, took a deep breath, and reluctantly explained,

“I, eh…found plans, architects plans for Wychwood and there’s…passageways behind the walls. I’ve explored them a few times while the house is in use…I’ve seen…”

“You watch men…fuck! Did you watch…me and—?”

Burning shame made me mute. I couldn’t look Kit in the eye, so my gaze fell to fix on his leather boots. I bit my lip and gave a shameful nod. Kit stood and agitatedly began to pace the room. I knew then that I’d blown it. What would he do? I expected he’d probably tell my employer that I was a filthy peeper and get me fired. Gods, I’d end up as one of them ghastly floating bloaters dragged from the Thames cos I knew too much about all these powerful gentlemen and their habits!

Kit turned to me, but his eyes were not the stormy seas I expected, they were wide and fevered, not with anger, but with excitement.

“Will you show me?”

“What?”

“The plans, and the passages, show me the passages. I want to see how men love one another,” he admitted. “I…I thought it was possible, I’d read of it in classical poetry, but Edward kept telling me I was wrong, and my mind was sick.” Kit was raving now. “I need to see the proof. Will you prove it to me, please?”

“Oh,” I brightened, bemused and pleased that he didn’t seem to care that I’d witnessed him getting fucked; he just wanted to know that it was possible to find love with another fellow.

“Yes, of course, I can show you.”

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