A Proper Lover (Ganymede Quartet Book 2) (22 page)

Louis laughed at his blushing. “What were you thinking about? It must have been good!”

Henry waved him off, his skin tingling with embarrassment. “Nothing special,” he insisted. “Why? Did you ask me something?”

“I was telling you about Bridget,” he said, “and you were just staring into space. It was pretty rude.” He laughed, though, far more amused than upset.

“What about her?” Henry roused himself to a show of interest, though he did not find the topic of Miss O’Malley terribly compelling.

“She’s actually older than me,” Louis said. “Her birthday’s in March.”

“Really?” Henry said, to be polite. “She looks very young. I would have guessed she was only 14 or 15.”

“It’s because she’s so petite, I think,” Louis said, nodding agreement. He ate another small bite of his cake, eating in smaller and smaller increments to draw the experience out.

“You can have more cake if you want,” Henry pointed out. He turned to Martin. “There is more, isn’t there?”

“Yes, Sir,” Martin said, giving him a fond smile. “A whole big sheet cake.”

Louis drank three deep gulps of milk, thumped himself on the chest, and burped. “In that case, I think I want more cake.” He quickly ate the last two bites of his piece.

“Very good, Sir.” Martin got to his feet, Peter right behind him. Martin turned to Henry. “For you, as well, Sir?”

Henry actually felt full. “None for me, thank you. The rest of you do what you want.” He lay back on the floor and watched as Martin crouched down and gathered their dirty plates.

“She almost got married one time,” Louis continued, his eyes tracking the slaves as they left the room. “But the cad cheated on her and that was that.”

“She doesn’t think
you’ll
marry her, does she?” This was, obviously, quite impossible, no matter how much Louis liked her. Like Henry, he’d be marrying a girl from an important family. Louis perhaps had a little more leeway than Henry in choosing a wife, as his family was so well-established, but Miss O’Malley was truly from the dregs of society. Even the permissive Briggs parents wouldn’t let their son marry a person who was like something you’d scrape off your shoe.

“Well, we haven’t talked about it,” Louis said, “but of course I can’t. I mean, I won’t be getting married for years and years, anyway. But who knows? I could have her as a mistress, couldn’t I? That sort of thing
is
done.”

Henry blushed again. It certainly
was
done. His father had Mrs. Murdock, after all. “Sure, if you like her enough,” Henry agreed. “You’ve really only just met her, though. Get to know her a little before you start thinking about setting her up in her own apartment, all right?”

Louis laughed. “Yeah, I should find out if I like fucking her first, I guess.”

“Did you find a rubber in James’ room?”

“I found
two
!” Louis said. “I’m all set for Saturday! I’ve been wearing poor Peter out just thinking about it.”

Ugh, that was more than Henry wanted to know. He reached over and shoved Louis’ knee. “God, Louis, don’t
tell
me things like that!”

Louis cackled, always pleased to unnerve Henry. “It cracks me up what a prude you are, Henry.”

“I’m not a prude,” Henry insisted. “I just don’t need to know what anyone else is doing with his slave.”

“Well, we’re not doing anything
weird
,” Louis pointed out. “I don’t know why it upsets you so much to know your friends are staying
healthy
.”

It would never make any sense to Henry that masturbation was damaging but the same activity with another body involved was healthful. It was less selfish, maybe? Henry could almost see the sense in that argument.

“You might not say anything,” Louis remarked, “but everyone knows you’re doing the same things as the rest of us anyway.”

Henry blushed again to think of how much
more
he did than the others.

The slaves returned with more cake for Louis and Peter, and more milk for the four of them. Henry propped himself up on his elbows and reached for his glass. Louis and Peter had their heads bent over their plates and Henry was able to share a brief moment with Martin, their eyes meeting with quiet intensity, and their fingertips brushed with an electric frisson as Martin handed Henry his milk.

Louis held up a forkful of cake, acknowledging its deliciousness. “Henry, you are
so
lucky.”

Henry dared to catch Martin’s eye, just for a moment, and agreed. “I am, I know.”

Thursday after dinner, Cora was brought down for family hour and was doted on by the slaves and, to a lesser extent, Henry, though her parents were as stiff and inattentive with her as ever.

“I wish I saw you more,” Cora told Henry, leaning against the side of his chair and gazing at him with frank adoration, “but Nurse says you’re very busy.”

Henry blushed, embarrassed that Nurse was lying for him. “I can try to find some more time to spend with you,” he said, “if you’d really like that.”

“I’d love it so much!” she assured him. “You’ll bring Martin, too?” she asked hopefully.

“Martin goes wherever I go. I’ll definitely bring Martin.”

“You know, Henry, I think I have the handsomest brother of anyone in my class,” she told him, “and you’ve got the handsomest slave.”

“I’m sure you’re right about Martin,” Henry told her, “but some of those other girls must have handsome brothers, too.”

Cora laughed and shook her head as if Henry had said something exceptionally silly, and then turned and spoke to Martin. “You go to school with Henry, don’t you, Martin?”

“Yes, Miss, I do.”

“But you’re in a different room and have different teachers.”

“Yes, Miss, that’s correct.”

“When I’m old enough, I’m going to have a slave just like you.”

“Your slave will be a girl, of course, Miss.”

Cora turned and put her hand on Henry’s arm, brow furrowed. “Is that true, Henry? My slave
has
to be a girl?”

Henry laughed. “Oh, definitely. Girls have girl slaves. Boys have boy slaves.”

“But what if I’d rather have a boy, like Martin?”

“You wouldn’t be alone,” Henry remarked, “but it wouldn’t be allowed.”

“Maybe if I ask Father nicely—”

“Don’t.” Henry put a restraining hand on her little bird-boned shoulder. “Don’t bother Father. He’ll say no anyway. It’s not how things are done.”

“Wouldn’t you rather have a girl slave?”

Henry flushed a deep, hot red and instinctively reared back out of the lamplight to hide his embarrassment. “I-I’m content to do things properly,” he managed. “That means having a boy slave.”

“Someday you’ll get married to a girl, though, and Nurse says maybe I’ll get to be a bridesmaid and walk down the aisle behind your bride wearing a fancy dress and carrying a bouquet.”

“That will probably happen,” Henry agreed reluctantly. “But not for a long time. I’m far too young to get married yet.”

Martin came forward and leaned around the other side of Henry’s chair. “Sir,” he whispered. “Sir, might we take Cora riding in the park this weekend? I think she’d appreciate it.”

Why did Henry never think of such things himself? Martin was a better brother than he was, to be sure. “Cora,” he said, “Do you know what Nurse has planned for you this Saturday?”

“No, what? Tell me!” Cora was avid and interested. “Is it something fun?”

Henry snorted. “No, I’m asking.” He looked around the room, the dark perimeter. “Nurse?”

She stepped forward, smiling. “Sir?”

“Do you have plans for Cora’s Saturday? I’d like to take her riding in the park if you’re amenable.”

Cora squealed in delight. “Henry! Really?” She whirled to face Nurse. “Can I go, please, Nurse?”

“Oh, Sir, I don’t see why not,” Nurse said. “Unless Mr. or Mrs. Blackwell has any objection…”

Mrs. Blackwell was possibly asleep, her head on Pearl’s shoulder, and Mr. Blackwell was busy with paperwork, as usual.

“I don’t see a problem,” he said, proving he was actually listening, “though I’m suggesting you finalize your plans quickly.” He cleared his throat and gave Henry a gimlet-eyed stare that judged him and found him lacking. “There’s quite a lot of chatter in here tonight.”

“Yes, Sir,” Henry said, mortified. “We’ll come for her Saturday after lunch, then,” he said to Nurse.

“Very good, Sir. It’s so thoughtful of you to include your little sister.”

Martin, of course, was the thoughtful one, and Henry felt peculiar taking the praise for the invitation; however, he did say, “She’s my sister, after all. It will be fun.”

On Saturday after lunch, Henry and Martin went up to the nursery to fetch Cora, who was giddy with excitement. She was dressed in a sober black riding habit with a cherry-red fur-trimmed cape over the top.

“You look like a princess, Miss,” Martin told her.

“Thank you!” She twirled, making the cape spread out upon the air. “And
you
look like a prince!”

“You’ll watch out for her, Sir?” Nurse asked worriedly. “She doesn’t ride often, you know.”

“I’ll take care of her,” Henry promised. “We both will. She’ll be fine.”

They walked over to the stables, Cora in between and holding their hands. They played the lift-and-swing game and Henry felt quite sure that Cora had gotten a great deal heavier since last they’d played.

Jerry, Arthur and Little Bob were waiting at the stables with the saddled horses. Next to Marigold and Partita, who were very large, sleek horses, fat little Daisy looked quite ridiculous. However, he was a good pony, stolid and unexcitable, ideal for an flighty child who rarely rode. Henry helped her to mount, as he felt it was something a brother ought to do, then got on Marigold’s back without help. Martin let Arthur give him a boost.

“Are you ready?” Henry asked.

“I’m ready!” Cora said with force. “Let’s go, Henry! Let’s go!”

“Okay, we’re going, we’re going.” Henry laughed and started Marigold off at a leisurely walk. Martin hung back a little, letting Cora go ahead on Daisy.

Like all of the horses, Daisy was exercised regularly, but he needed to be coaxed repeatedly to trot, and he needed to trot frequently to keep up with the larger horses’ pace. It was chilly and spitting rain from time to time, but the air smelled pleasantly of loam and rotting leaves and Cora’s excitement was infectious and charming.

They ran into Ronald Hastings riding with his slave Nick, but Ronald and Nick were heading back to their stables and so Henry did not have to put up with Ronald’s company for long. However, they did talk long enough—mostly Ronald trying to convince Henry to race Martin—for Cora to become very impatient.

“Henry? Aren’t we going to ride, Henry?” she asked plaintively.

“Please be patient, Miss,” Martin said. “I’m sure your brother will only be a minute more.”

“She’s awfully cute,” said Ronald. “I’ve got two myself, and a little brother, as well.”

“So you know how it is,” Henry said. “I really should get going, I guess, I promised her a ride, after all.”

“Oh, sure,” said Ronald. “You should call me up next time you go out,” he suggested. “I had fun with you last time and Nick really liked your slave.”

“Um, okay,” Henry said, quite unwilling. “Sure, we could maybe…sometime…”

“Like I said before, we’re in the book.” He paused a moment, and when Henry said nothing, he said, “Well, goodbye, then, Henry. I look forward to seeing you again.”

“Goodbye, Ronald.” To be mannerly, he added, “It was nice running into you.”

It was all he could do not to kick Marigold into a gallop, but he couldn’t leave Cora behind. They moved on at a brisk walking pace, Henry frequently glancing back over his shoulder to make sure Ronald was really gone.

When Ronald Hastings was finally out of sight, Henry let Marigold slow her pace so that Daisy needn’t labor so hard to keep up and Martin pulled up alongside him on Partita. They let Cora ride a little ahead, the feather on her hat quivering with each step of Daisy’s stiff trot.

“Why does that guy want to be friends so badly?” Henry complained.

“I can think of lots of reasons, Sir.”

Henry snorted. “Like what?”