Page 20 of The Demons of Wychwood

CHAPTER 12

KNOCK KNOCK!

I said my hellos and goodbyes to Mr. Hugo, Miss Georgette, and Mr. Joshua, and they took their places. All now believed I’d left Wychwood, but I was in the kitchen, hiding behind the door of the servant’s back stairs, waiting for the first gentleman to arrive so the sound would allow me cover to rush upstairs to room ten without being noticed.

The sharp rat-a-tat-tat of the door knocker sent quite the thrill of excitement through me.

“Welcome sir, it’s good to see you?” Mr. Joshua said his voice deep and commanding. This was my opportunity to leg it up the stairs.

On the landing, instead of taking my usual route of heading to the linen closet I crept along the hall to room ten and let myself in. A dart of pleasure rushed up my spine at seeing Lord Penhelligan seated by the fire, a book open on his lap, and a glass of brandy on the small table beside his chair. He looked up and his eyes met mine.

“Lock the door,” he whispered. I nodded, turned, and did so. Then I moved forward and took the chair opposite him without being given permission. It was a nippy evening, and I was glad to be by the fire in such agreeable company. A glass of brandy was waiting for me on the small table beside my chair.

“I found the door to the passage, it’s inside the closet, there’s a panel that slides across. It was a bit stiff, so I poured some hot wax on the mechanism and it freed up the workings,” Kit informed.

“Well, consider me impressed,” I said with a grin. Part of me was walking on cloud nine to be in his company, while the rest of me looked at Kit with disbelief. How had I got myself tangled up with a Duke? I reached for the brandy and took a gulp.

“We’ve got a little time before the gentlemen get amorous,” I explained as if Kit didn’t know the lay of the land at Wychwood. His brow rose in amusement.

“Sorry, I’m a little…nervous,” I admitted. “This has always been a solitary activity.”

“Join me in another drink then, that should calm the nerves, aye?” Havelock offered. I started to rise from my chair.

“Take a seat, Lazarus, in this escapade we are equals.” I nodded, grateful when he rose from his seat and served me, instead of having me look after myself.

I cupped the brandy that he offered me in my palms. The silent minutes ticked by and I found I was quite comfortable with my lot, a fire, a tumbler of good brandy, and a fine gentleman silently watching me as I watched him in return letting my ravenous eyes take their fill.

Kit leaned an elbow on the arm of the chair and cupped his cheek as he watched me. I’d seen some erotic sights in my day, but you mark my words, having Lord Penhelligan’s eyes on me and only me made my body sing with such a lustful fire I was surprised I didn’t set my chair alight.

“Tell me about yourself, about your…wife—” Havelock’s tongue darted out to swipe across his lower lip.

I automatically looked away and wished I could cover up the cheap gold band, as if covering it up would make it and what it signaled go away. Who the hell was I fooling?

“Your accent is slightly…off,” Kit observed. “Oh, you pass well enough as a cockney when you’re focused, but when you relax, I can hear the West Country in your voice.”

I gulped. Kit Havelock was undressing me with his eyes, trying to find out what made a man like me help queers get their oats in secret. I didn’t know if I liked his consideration…or maybe I did, maybe I liked it too much? Kit had been forthcoming with me, trusted me with some dark secrets and we were sitting here in this chamber waiting for the chance to spy on his friends fucking. I was good at keeping secrets, and I supposed it was fair to share a secret of two of my own.

“I ran away from home and ended up in London when I was sixteen,” I admitted. “My family hales from Exeter way. You’re right; my accent comes through when I ain’t concentrating.”

“Exeter, really?” Havelock brightened. “Do you know Penhelligan Hall?”

I shuddered, cos I did know Penhelligan Hall and the less said about that the better. I sat up in my chair. “Can I tell you something, milord…in confidence?”

Havelock’s left brow rose in curiosity. “Very well, and for goodness sake Felix, call me Kit!” He gestured with a hand for me to continue.

“You might have guessed already that we have the same…tastes in the bedroom,” I said. Havelock nodded.

“I ain’t married,”

“But you wear a wedding ring, and when I was…following you, I saw you with a young woman and a baby.”

“My sister, Elowen, and her daughter Bess,” I explained. “She’s protecting me cos of my nature, and I’m protecting her virtue because she had Bess out of wedlock. We never stood in no church and made vows and we ain’t got no papers. All we got are rings and people see a ring and they make up their own story.”

“Gosh…I love my sister, but I would never think to pretend to be her husband!”

“I suppose you aristo’s are too recognizable. We’re just regular working-class folks and no one bats an eye if we live or die.”

“It’s a kind gesture, but why did you do it?”