A Proper Lover (Ganymede Quartet Book 2) (42 page)

Henry felt sorry for this master who surely intended his kisses to be pleasant for his slave, and he also felt badly for the slave who had to put up with unwanted attentions. Henry thought it deplorable that slaves had to put up with malicious acts by their masters, but it must be nearly as terrible to endure affectionate acts that were unwelcome. Yet, for a good slave, were any acts actually unwelcome? Wasn’t it part of the companion’s job to be receptive?

“What did you all tell him, then?” Louis asked. “How to get the master to stop?”

“No one had good advice, Sir,” Martin admitted. “Most just suggested eating lots of onions or being deliberately bad at kissing. Things like that. If a master is determined to kiss a slave, Sir, there’s really nothing the slave can do about it without souring the relationship entirely.”

“Yeah, I can see how going to the master’s dad or the dad’s companion isn’t really a good option either,” Louis mused. “The dad would get angry at the master for acting like a fairy, at the very least, and it would be embarrassing all around.” He thought another moment, then added, “I’ll bet a lot of the masters have been inappropriate with their slaves, though, right?” He looked between Peter and Martin, both of whom wore studiously blank expressions and averted their eyes. “Fine, don’t say, but I know I’m right. Some of the guys have confessed things to me—”

“To
you
?” Henry said, surprised. Louis was not known for keeping secrets, though he supposed Louis might be considered a sympathetic ear.

“I
can
keep a secret if I have to,” Louis said, defensive and a little proud. “And I’m not going to name names, but some of our friends have gone a little further than they’re supposed to, let’s just say.”

Henry desperately wanted to know which of their friends Louis was talking about, but didn’t think he could press him for names. Maybe Martin would tell him later, because surely Martin would know.

“We’re young,” Henry said with a shrug. “People make mistakes when they’re young, right?” Considering his own behavior, he was more than willing to be a little generous with their friends who might have strayed from the righteous path.

Louis shook his head. “I worry about some of these guys, Henry. Touching slaves, after all…it’s a slippery slope, and there’s a big pile-up at the bottom.” He laughed, though. “Of course, all of our friends are rich, and almost anything can be smoothed over with money. Maybe they don’t have anything to worry about, after all.”

Henry laughed, the sound of it very false to his ears, but seemingly believable to the others. “Yeah, probably not. Money solves most problems.”

It was time for Peter’s dinner, then, so they took their leave. Louis was in much better spirits as he told them goodbye, and Henry was grateful to Martin for cheering him up.

“I could tell it made you uncomfortable to share that gossip with him,” Henry said, jumping a puddle as they crossed the street. “I really appreciate that you did it, though. You helped my friend, Martin. Thank you for that.”

Martin looked very pleased at the praise. “You’re welcome, Sir. I don’t like seeing Mr. Briggs so unhappy, either.”

“It was a mistake for him to break up with Miss O’Malley, though.”

“Oh, definitely, Sir.”

“You told me to telephone him and I didn’t do it,” Henry noted. “I should’ve listened to your advice.”

“Oh, well, Sir, what’s done is done,” Martin said, clearly uncomfortable with this line of conversation.

They got home and went upstairs before Martin would have to go down again for his own dinner. Henry hurried to his room, tugging Martin along by the wrist. Inside, he held Martin close and felt such gratitude for what they had together. He would never have Louis’ problems. He would never have to mess around with dance hall girls, would never have to worry about whether he was only liked for his money. Thinking of the other young masters, he couldn’t imagine a scenario in which Martin would betray or defy him, and he felt quite sure that Martin wasn’t lying about enjoying sex with him. Their relationship was perfect. He would never have to worry about Martin leaving him. He would have Martin for the rest of his life, and having Martin made that life worth living.

Cora’s birthday was on Wednesday, which Henry would not have remembered, but Martin had learned this from Nurse and on Tuesday morning reminded Henry as he dressed him for school.

“So what should we do?” Henry asked. Unless things had changed a great deal since his own childhood, there wouldn’t be a party, as such. He lifted his chin so that Martin could tie his necktie.

“Well, Nurse says there’ll be cake upstairs in the afternoon and that we’d be welcome to join them when we get home from school. Little Miss would be so happy, don’t you think? She’d love to see you.”

Henry snorted. “I think it’s you she wants to see.”

Martin smiled at him in the mirror. “She’ll be happier if we’re both there, then.”

After school, they walked to the toy store in search of a suitable present, again at Martin’s suggestion. Henry was at a loss as to what Cora might appreciate. She had plenty of dolls. There were board games, but if Henry got her one, he’d then have to play it with her. Maybe it would have to be a doll after all; he would have to ask Martin’s opinion as to which one might be best, since Martin knew more about Cora’s existing assortment than he did.

Henry put down the game he’d been looking at. “Martin?”

There was no reply, and Henry looked around and saw no sign of Martin up or down the aisle. Henry frowned, displeased that Martin had just wandered off without saying a word. He went looking for him, and found him two aisles over examining the contents of a large pasteboard box.

“Martin.” Henry was prepared to be annoyed with him.

“Oh, there you are, Sir. Look what I’ve found. I think Little Miss would love this, don’t you?”

“You just wandered off,” Henry said in an accusatory tone, but he looked at the box Martin showed him and lost all interest in being blameful. “Oh! That’s really good. Good job, Martin.”

The box held a brightly-colored toy circus, very detailed, with jointed wooden animals, clowns, a ringmaster, and a cloth tent to house them all.

“Look, Sir, there’s even a dancing bear,” Martin said, giving it a little poke with his fingertip. “Do you think she’d like it, Sir?”

“She’ll love it. It’s perfect.” He put his arm around Martin’s back and gave him a squeeze before he realized what he was doing. Flushing a furious crimson, he pulled his hand back and looked around; no one had seen him embracing his slave. “I’m glad you found it.”

Henry paid for the circus—which was quite expensive—and the big box was wrapped in brown paper and tied with a narrow red ribbon. Martin carried it to the omnibus stop, but once they were on the omnibus, Henry held the bulky package in his lap while Martin stood in the aisle.

Henry was tempted to take it directly to Cora, so confident was he that she would love it, and so eager was he for her thanks, but Martin convinced him to wait until the morrow.

“She’ll like it even better if she gets it with her cake, Sir,” Martin told him. “She’ll like it better on her actual birthday.”

Martin was right, of course. Henry then had to resist the urge to unwrap the box himself. It was a charming toy; he could certainly see his way clear to playing with it, should Cora want his company.

Henry woke on Wednesday still full of enthusiasm about the toy circus and thought about it from time to time throughout the day. He would have liked such a toy himself when he was small. He couldn’t remember many of his childhood toys—he hadn’t been attached to many of them, not like Cora was with her dolls. He’d had a stuffed mouse named Pinky that he slept with until he’d been brought down out of the nursery, but he didn’t remember what had happened to him. Nurse would know.

After classes were over for the day, Henry was impatient to return home but was unwilling to admit to his friends that he was in a hurry to attend his little sister’s birthday party, so lingered with them on the forecourt of the school discussing their holiday plans. Several of Henry’s friends were going with their families to visit relatives out of town for Christmas, but most boys would be staying in the city over the holidays.

While they loitered in the chill air, Henry and his classmates made plans to get together over the upcoming break. Henry was happy to receive the invitation to Charles Ross' New Year's Eve party. It was his first invitation of the year; he’d missed out on all the previous parties because of his feelings about swapping, and it felt good to be included. He felt confident, then, that this would be a regular party; Charles would know better than to invite him to a swap party.

The adult Rosses were having a fancy dress party of their own, and Charles and his friends were to have their “children's” party in a separate wing of the house.

“There'll be so much liquor around,” Charles promised. “Last year, even the chambermaids got drunk. All the slaves, really. It was a madhouse. Believe me, we'll be able to get our hands on whatever we want.”

This sounded very promising! Most of their class was invited, excepting Adam Pettibone and his few cronies, for which Henry was grateful. He had done his best to avoid Adam since their fight in October, and for once Adam seemed content to stay clear of him, as well.

To Louis’ dismay his grandmother was coming to visit from the Midwest and he would be expected to spend more time with her than he thought she actually warranted.

“At least you have a grandmother,” Henry said, unsympathetic to Louis’ complaints. Henry had no grandparents and rather envied the Briggs children their bossy, loving Grandma Ida. Henry’s Grandfather Wilton had died long before he was born. Grandmother Wilton had held on until he was 10, but he remembered her only as a querulous and addled old woman with wispy hair and clothes that smelled of mothballs.

Henry would be spending Christmas as he always did, with his mother’s people, the Wiltons. To the best of his knowledge, there were no Blackwell people to spend holidays with at all. Henry liked the Wiltons but rarely saw his mother’s relatives outside of their holiday party. They’d seen the Wiltons more often when Henry was younger—Mother had insisted on it then; she no longer fought Father on the matter now, though Henry wasn’t sure whether she’d lost the will to do so or merely the interest.

There were quite a lot of Wiltons, actually. Henry’s grandparents had only three surviving children, Mother and her brothers, but Grandfather’s two brothers had had larger families, one with five children and the other with seven, and many of these cousins of Mother’s had large families of their own. They were Wiltons and Carmichaels and Bensons and Hatches. Besides Henry’s cousins, Bette and Jesse, there were also innumerable second cousins of all ages, many of whom would make an appearance at the Christmas party.

Henry always felt like an outsider at these Wilton parties, and certainly he
was
one. He had not grown up within this big, friendly family, but on the periphery of it, and felt it keenly. However, he did enjoy the little time he got to spend with the Wiltons, and wished he could have more, though he had never asked. Father didn’t like the Wiltons and Henry did not wish to cross Father.

Henry was cold and his nose was running. Louis seemed like he could talk for hours more and Henry didn’t want to wait. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” he said to the group as a whole with a wave of his hand. “Come on, Martin.”

Martin broke away from Tom and the rest of his friends and hurried to Henry’s side, smiling broadly. “Are you eager to see your sister, Sir? I can’t wait to see what she thinks of her present!”

Henry grinned, a little embarrassed to be so excited about a toy. “Me, neither. Plus, there’ll be cake.”

They hurried to the omnibus stop. The car was crowded enough when they got on that both had to stand, and Henry feigned an unsteadiness he didn’t really feel so that he could sway and lean against Martin, who admonished him in a low voice but snickered as he did so, clearly amused.

At home, they hurriedly changed their clothes, Henry wearing his bottle-green suit and the green-striped waistcoat.

“I do so like you in this,” Martin said, and Henry wondered if he remembered that it was what Henry had been wearing when they’d met. He had often wondered what had happened to Martin’s tight Ganymede breeches; he had not seen them again since that first afternoon.

Henry kissed him, fond and lingering, and it was tempting to put off going upstairs, but then Martin was giving him little placating pats on the arm and pulling away.

“Let’s go upstairs, Henry. I’m sure Little Miss is waiting very impatiently.”

They went up to the third floor, Martin carrying their gift—Henry thought of it as theirs rather than his, since Martin had chosen it—and Henry knocked at the nursery door.

“They’re here! Nurse, they’re here!” Cora called from within.

Nurse opened the door, smiling, and ushered them inside. “Hello, Sir. Hello, Martin. Little Miss is very excited you’re here with her today.”

Cora was picking her way across the nursery floor, trying to avoid stepping on the toys that were scattered everywhere. “Henry! You brought me a present!”