A Proper Lover (Ganymede Quartet Book 2) (13 page)

“Just let me put these away, Sir.” Martin got up and went into this own room with his trinkets.

Henry lay back on his bed and sighed. It was disturbing that all the slaves—not just Martin—felt so vulnerable all the time. It made a little more sense now, how all the slaves were so determined to get along with one another, since they apparently believed their mutual goodwill was all that was keeping them out of harm’s way.

Martin came back into the room looking quite sheepish. “You must think I’m very foolish, Sir.”

Really, though, Martin’s protection charms seemed no more or less foolish to Henry than church-going. “No,” he said. “It’s just difficult for me to understand because I don’t have that kind of faith in anything.”

Martin sat down again at Henry’s side and took hold of his hand. “Please be patient with me, Sir. I’m sure with time I’ll come to trust in you completely, but, really, we’re still getting to know one another.”

It had been only two months since Martin had come to live with him, and they had been lovers less than three weeks; it wasn’t unreasonable for Martin to need a little more time to believe in Henry wholeheartedly. Henry brought Martin’s hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it, then turned it over and kissed the inside of his wrist. He thought about what he’d just said to Martin, about not having faith in anything. Maybe that wasn’t true anymore, though. Maybe now he did feel a little of whatever it was that people meant when they talked about faith and belief; he believed Martin was the one for him, the one he was meant to be with, and the strength of this conviction made his hands tremble as he pulled the tie from Martin’s hair and drew him down to lie against his chest.

“You’re shaking Henry.” Martin’s voice was gentle, almost wondering.

“I just like you so much,” Henry admitted. “I just love being with you.”

“Me, too, Sir. I think we’re very lucky, don’t you?”

They were tender and solicitous with one another, kissing and petting with their clothes on, until Billy came to knock at the door to let Henry know Louis was on the telephone. Once Henry had composed himself, he took the call.

“What took you so long?” Louis asked. “Say, do you want to go cycling?”

As the four of them rode their bicycles around the reservoir, Henry took every opportunity to turn to look at Martin in his sober black tweed, so beautiful with his hair falling loose from his tail in the breeze. More often than not, Martin was looking back at him, and Henry didn’t even care that Louis or Peter might notice because what was happening between Martin and himself meant so much. He wasn’t willing to concede that tokens or talismans had anything to do with it, but they
were
lucky; they might well be the luckiest boys in the world.

Everyone was still mad at Henry on Monday. Some of the boys were mad at Louis, too, about the swapping that had taken place after Henry had left. Henry didn’t hear details—Henry didn’t
want
details—but apparently the swapping was in some way harrowing for the slaves, and that had just made the slaves even more convinced that the gypsy’s predictions were coming true.

Even though Tom had been frightened by the fortune teller, Freddie didn’t seem terribly upset with Henry, for which Henry was grateful. However, whatever had happened during the swapping seemed to have left Freddie feeling angry, frightened and embarrassed. “That James…” he said when Louis was out of earshot. “You know him pretty well, don’t you?”

“I thought I did,” Henry said. “He seems different these last couple of years, though.”

“You were right to tell him to keep his hands off Martin,” Freddie told him, shaking his head. “I’m never letting him near Tom again.”

Henry sensed that Freddie wanted to discuss whatever it was James had done, but Henry was not eager to hear it. He looked across the yard to where the slaves were congregated. They were all staying close today, arms around each other’s backs, their faces tense and drawn. Martin had his arm around Tom’s shoulders and they were speaking intently, their faces very close. Tom looked wan and moved a little gingerly. Henry didn’t want to imagine what might have been done to Tom. Henry guessed that Tom was a popular slave at swaps—he would certainly be Henry’s first pick other than Martin—and supposed that meant a lot more work and a lot harder use for the slave.

“Tom’s all right, though?”

“Oh, yeah, he’ll be fine,” Freddie said, waving off Henry’s concern, though his worried expression implied that he was not actually confident that this was the case.

Gordon had apparently not gotten his fill of haranguing Henry at the party. He had been huddled with Joshua but now came over spoiling for a fight. “I ought to bill you for a new jacket,” Gordon told him. “Our laundress doesn’t know if she can get the punch stain out of the one I was wearing, and it was my favorite.”

“
I
didn’t dump punch down your front,” Henry pointed out. “It was Julian, after all.”

“Who would
never
have done that if
you
hadn’t scared him.”

“That wasn’t
me
, either! You didn’t have to let him get his fortune told, Gordon. That was entirely your decision.”

Gordon shook his head. “You new people,” he said, sneering a little. “You think you can just buy your way in—”

“Hey, now.” Freddie hurried to interrupt. “Cut that out, will you, Gord? Henry’s right. None of us had to let our slaves do it, after all. Henry didn’t know any better, I guess, but
we
did, and we still let them get their palms read, so it’s all on us.”

Henry was hurt that he would still be considered a “new” person even after knowing these boys for a decade or more, but it was true that Father’s money was much newer than that of any of his classmates’ fathers. Father might be fantastically wealthy, but he had been rich for fewer than twenty-five years. The Briggses had been in manufacturing (of what, Henry wasn’t entirely sure) since Revolutionary times. The Caldwells had been in banking for well over a hundred years, as had the Rosses. The Lovejoys had been doing something with importing and exporting and shipping since before the city had even existed. Everyone Henry knew was from an old, established family, and they all knew how to be properly rich, from knowing which fork to use, down to owning and managing slaves.

Now that Henry knew something more about slaves’ beliefs, he agreed it
had
been a bad idea to make Martin get his fortune told, and certainly this was another thing that all of his friends had known from the cradle that his father hadn’t known to impart and that his mother had been too apathetic to pass along. Henry hoped that his children—the children he would reluctantly father—would have a better time of it, and would be confident, relaxed rich people whose social actions would never be faulted or questioned.

After school, heading for home, Louis had a beleaguered air and so Henry did him the favor of not asking any questions about the Halloween party swapping session, though Louis insisted on talking about it anyway.

“If they didn’t want to play rough, they shouldn’t have played at all,” Louis said somewhat defensively. “I warned them that James and his friends play by different rules but they didn’t listen to me.”

“Huh,” Henry said noncommittally, hoping that Louis would drop the subject.

“I kept Peter out of it, and
I’m
James’
brother
,” Louis pointed out. “You’d think they’d have taken a hint from that.”

“You’d think,” Henry echoed. He was relieved to hear that Louis was protecting Peter, though.

They parted at the Blackwell gate and waved their goodbyes. Inside, Randolph took their coats and they went upstairs.

“I heard some things today, Sir…let’s just say, I’m glad we left Mr. Briggs’ party when we did,” Martin offered on the stairs, and Henry supposed Martin wanted to talk about what his friends had been put through, but Henry didn’t really want to know details. The other boys were his friends, and he wanted to think they would ultimately look out for their slaves, but he suspected this wasn’t really the case.

“I’m glad, too,” Henry said. “I’ve told you, Martin, I’ll always protect you. You still have your talismans and your luck—but you’ve got me, too.”

“I do appreciate that, Sir, you have no idea.”

They went into Henry’s room and locked the door and spoke no more of Louis’ party. Whatever might have befallen the other slaves, it hadn’t touched Martin; Henry hadn’t let it, and he wouldn’t let it. Compared to his friends, there were a lot of things he didn’t understand, and he thought there were always going to be things he got wrong, but at least he knew how to truly care for another person, and he didn’t think all of them could say the same.

The weekend after the Halloween party, Louis and several of their friends arranged to meet up at a dance hall with the working-class girls they’d met at Steeplechase Park two weeks prior. Henry was invited but did not want to go.

“Miss Flannery will be hurt,” Louis said the Thursday before, trying to coax him into going. “She’ll think you don’t like her.”

“I
don’t
like her,” Henry pointed out. “I already made up a story to spare her feelings, so she won’t even expect me.”

“What story?” Louis asked.

“I told her I was in love with someone else.”

“Who?”

“An imaginary person,” Henry snapped, annoyed. “I didn’t even tell her a name. I just said I had a forbidden love so she would leave me alone. She thought it was very romantic.”

Louis shook his head, both disappointed in Henry and baffled by his behavior. “I don’t get it, Henry. A pretty girl, a
fast
girl, likes you, and you won’t take advantage of the situation.”

“It’s not like I can’t get my needs met otherwise,” Henry pointed out, though he felt a little uneasy doing so. Making any reference to contact with Martin felt a little too close to an admission of his excesses and he felt the heat of a blush rise in his cheeks.

“But that’s just
Martin
,” Louis said. “It’s not a
girl
, Henry. Surely you can tell the difference!”

Henry could, and he was more than satisfied with Martin! But all he said was, “She’s just not the girl for me, all right? Gordon really liked her—make him go be her escort.”

“Gordon’s already got Miss Brody,” Louis said. “But Wendell wants to come and maybe she’ll like him all right.” He did not sound convinced that this would happen. “I guess there will be enough boys for her to choose from. Everyone is coming except for you and probably Joshua.”

“He’s grounded,” Henry remembered. “Because of the chambermaid.”

“She’s going to be whipped this weekend,” Louis remarked. “Joshua’s parents are making him go watch as part of his punishment.”

Henry shuddered and darted a glance at Martin, who had gone very pale. “That’s the least he can do for her,” Henry said stiffly.

“So, he might not go on Saturday because he’s worried that if he gets caught sneaking out with us, he’ll be grounded for the rest of the school year instead of just until January.”

Henry thought it would be in very bad taste for Joshua to go out trying to pick up girls on the same day that he’d seen a girl whipped for fucking him but wasn’t quite sure how to say this without sounding unduly prissy. Obviously, this wasn’t something that troubled Louis.