A Wager of Love: M/M Historical Romance (9 page)

Laurie laughed at his face and rolled his eyes. “Gilbert.”

“I feel lost, most days,” Gilbert said. “I have my books and my topics of study. I have enough of a social life in London to keep me as lively as I wish to be. But I suppose that I keep waiting for something. Searching. In hopes that in one of my books of poetry or philosophy I will find a reason to live.”

That made Laurie frown. He understood the feelings of restlessness and a lack of purpose, but he’d never lacked a reason to live. “Gilbert.”

“I’ve begun to think,” Gilbert said, “that I might like to open a foundling school.”

“A foundling school?”

“I know that I can’t adopt all the world,” Gilbert said. “Though some days I’d like to try. Too many children out there, even just in London. But with a foundling school, I could help a few of the children of London. Once they’re old enough, set them at desks and give them an education as good as any child of rank. Good enough that they might earn scholarships at Oxford or Cambridge. Good enough that they could do gentlemen’s work, and maybe they in turn could help a few children.”

Smiling fondly at Gilbert’s passionate desire to improve the world, especially for the poor and hungry, Laurie felt his heart tighten with affection. “You ought to do so.”

“It would be a lot of work. Constant effort, and great expense.”

“I’ll help.”

Startled, Gilbert watched him with hope and wonder. “Would you indeed? You’ll found it with me?”

“I cannot offer much in the way of money, but I have no employment or purpose of my own. I’d rather run a school than be a dandy forever.”

Gilbert grinned widely, opening his mouth as if he might say something and then shutting it again.

“When shall we?” Laurie asked.

“When we go back to London,” Gilbert said, falling back onto the blanket and pressing his knuckle to his lip in thought. “In the autumn. We’ll find a place for it, then obtain the proper permits. My uncle—Agatha’s husband—is a magistrate. He will aid us. Best if we can sort it all in time for winter.”

Laurie smiled at him, reaching for another piece of cheese and bread and thinking of all the possibility and difficulty of opening a school for orphans. “Gilbert,” he said at length. “When did your parents die?”

Gilbert stared in shock. “What?”

“I… forgive me. That was too forward.”

“My… mother,” Gilbert said, sitting up again and reaching for the wine, “died when I was not yet ten. I loved her—the way children love anyone who is kind to them—though she spent little time with me. She was often away. She liked to travel, and liked best to be away from my father. I cannot blame her much. He beat us both roughly, when we were home.” Swallowing a gulp of wine, Gilbert looked away toward the nearest copse of trees. “Lucky, then, for me that he hated children underfoot, and sent me away to school as soon as I was old enough to be sent.”

“Gilbert,” Laurie said, voice as gentle as he could make it.

“I think he killed her. If not by his own hands, then through his temper and neglect. I still cannot get a straight answer out of anyone who knew them as to how, precisely, she died.”

“My deepest sympathies, Gilbert,” Laurie said, wanting to reach for him but fearing to make his misery worse.

“I’m fortunate that my money is all
her
money. He couldn’t touch it. I was off to school permanently until I came of age and received my inheritance.”

“What happened to him?”

“He remains an officer in India,” Gilbert explained. He stated it flatly, gazing into his glass as he did so. “He lends his brutality in the service of her Majesty’s army, and I oversee all my own affairs—and some of his, as I mentioned I got my seat on the parish board from him. That way we are all best suited.”

Laurie understood a little better why Gilbert doubted that there should be love in the world, and why he sought so desperately to find it.

“You must stay all summer with me,” Laurie resolved, smiling warmly at his friend. “I insist upon it. My family and I have plenty of love to spare, and as my dearest friend in all the world, you are welcome to it.”

Gilbert smiled back at him with gratitude and longing. “I shall,” he promised, and promptly cast off his melancholy, plopped his head in Laurie’s lap, and opened the next book so that he might resume reading. Laurie laughed, and fed him berries as they read and enjoyed the sunshine.

T
hey took
Gilbert’s carriage to the Peregrines’ dance. The spacious carriage only just fit the six of them: Laurie, Gilbert, Laurie’s parents, his sister Elizabeth, and her husband. Laurie found himself squeezed between Gilbert and Elizabeth, who soon discovered a shared love for making Laurie squirm. Elizabeth began by tickling him, which caused Laurie to yelp and twitch and tempted Gilbert to join in, whereupon the two of them spent the rest of the journey acting innocent until Laurie relaxed and then sneaking in tickling jabs.

The dance was held out in the gardens, where lanterns were hung all about and tables were clumped near the edges of the lawn. The sun had set, and the music drifted out through the gardens as they approached. Laurie and Elizabeth were promptly swarmed by young and newly-married friends who were delighted to see them back in Somersetshire, and introductions were made between them and Gilbert with much friendly jesting.

“There are,” Gilbert observed, when the initial rush had settled and the six of them were seated around a table.

“Oh, that
is
unfortunate,” Elizabeth remarked, in a tone that Laurie thought was entirely too blithe. “Some of the gentlemen will have to dance with other gentlemen.”

“And will you dance?” Gilbert asked Laurie.

“Of course I will dance,” Laurie insisted. “I do
like
dancing.”

“Come, then,” Gilbert said, urging the entire group onto the dance floor. “We must dance.”

The dances were lively, made up mostly of country jigs and reels, with much laughter and exchanging of partners. Gilbert’s grin remained as wide as Laurie ever seen it as they spun around the dance floor. Of the ladies who were present, most of them were too young or already married, and both Gilbert and Laurie danced and flirted with them indiscriminately. It was very pleasant to dance without having to be concerned with who might be murmuring over his eligibility as a bachelor.

Gilbert mostly let him lead when they danced together, and then would play at exaggerated femininity until Laurie laughed. Gilbert was an exquisite dancer whether he was leading or following, and the warmth and charm in his smile was irresistible.

As the night grew late, Laurie’s parents became tired and wanted to retire, and Elizabeth and her husband wanted to return home to check on little Sarah.

“Take the carriage,” Gilbert urged them. “We will walk home. It isn’t far.”

“Are you quite certain?” Mrs. Aberforth fussed.

“Entirely, mama,” Laurie assured her. “The celebration is still lively, and I wish to dance.” He felt lighter than he had in years, full of joy and mirth.

His parents warned them not to drink too much or stay too late, clucking worriedly, but at last they were satisfied and took the carriage home.

The dances slowed after that, turning into sweet and lingering airs. The younger partygoers had all been taken home to bed, and all that remained were the young, married couples who danced with each other.

Gilbert had begun to lead, and Laurie followed with drowsy contentment. Gilbert’s arms were warm and steady, and Laurie felt his heart swell with a feeling of relaxation and trust.

“Come along,” Gilbert said at last, as even the musicians had begun to tire and put up their instruments. With a hand low on Laurie’s back, Gilbert led him to the edge of the dance floor. They presented their thanks to their hosts and made their way out into the night.

The moon was full and still high in the night sky, limning the road in silver. Gilbert kept his hand on Laurie’s back as they walked. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Yes,” Laurie said, sleepy and content. “You were the best dancer there.”

“And it seems that, after all, you do not despise dancing.”

“I said as much.”

Gilbert laughed, pulling Laurie against his side in something like a hug. “How unjust of me to doubt you.”

The night was pleasantly warm, and growing quickly nearer to morning. All the world around them still seemed to be asleep, with the light breeze stirring through the fields.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Gilbert teased him, giving Laurie a gentle shake.

“I’m not going to fall asleep.” Laurie grumbled at him in return, intending to give him a shove but ending up leaning harder against him instead.

“I’m not going to carry you if you do,” Gilbert warned. “I will leave you here by the side of the road to sleep it off.”

“You will not.”

Gilbert laughed fondly, bumping his head against Laurie’s. They walked a while more in silence, content in each other’s company and the warm sanctuary of the night.

“Do you suppose we will see the sunrise?” Gilbert asked.

“We may.” Laurie sighed and tilted his head back as they walked, watching the stars and allowing Gilbert to guide him. “Why did you send the carriage on?”

“I wanted to stay and dance. So did you.”

“Yes, but now we have to walk.”

“Didn’t you tell me that this was the most beautiful sight in all the world?” Gilbert asked. “Walking home before dawn on a summer night in Somersetshire.”

Laurie startled. “Did you arrange this intentionally?”

“Well, I do have to see what it is that you love best in all the world.”

“A summer night in Somersetshire.” Laurie sighed again, and smiled. “Mayhap. You are, however, instilling in me a great appreciation for love poetry.”

“Good. You are much suited to having a love for love poetry.”

His hand still rested against Laurie’s back. It was warm and steady, and Laurie liked having it there.

“It is beautiful,” Gilbert said.

“But not as beautiful as whatever it is you might love,” Laurie prompted.

“Not quite.”

“And you won’t tell me what it is that you might love.”

“Not yet.”

“Hm.” Laurie grumbled once again at him, frowning at the mystery. “But you are going to continue at proving the folly of love? It is your turn next to provide an exhibit.”

“I have one in mind that I intend to provide.”

“What is it?”

Gilbert hesitated, taking his hand away from Laurie’s back. “I don’t want to tell you. I’m not certain of how you’ll react.”

“So it’s to be a surprise? Very well.” The spot where Gilbert’s hand had been felt cold, and Laurie missed it.

“I thought we might make a brief trip into Bath. I know of a place there.”

“A place where I will abandon all my faith in love?” Laurie teased.

“I hope not. At the very least, a place where we will see some demonstration of love which we might discuss.”

On the horizon, the sky had begun to lighten, with a pale strip of dawn light flaring like a banner across the edge of the earth. “A demonstration somewhat like the last one?” Laurie asked, with a groan.

“No. Well, ah—no.”

“Gilbert, tell me,” Laurie pressed.

Gilbert stopped and turned to face him. “Trust me,” he asked. “This will be my last exhibit. I wish you to see… something. And then, I think, I may yet concede to you.”

He could not distinguish Gilbert’s expression in the darkness, but he knew what was there. Gilbert’s handsome, charming face, earnest and passionate with a desire to believe—to love.

“I trust you,” Laurie said.

Gilbert caught his hand and hesitated, running his thumb briefly over the back of Laurie’s hand and then letting go as quickly as he’d begun. “Perhaps—next week, then. There isn’t any hurry.”

“Next week,” Laurie agreed, wondering what he’d just consented to do, but trusting Gilbert above all.

T
hey left
in the morning and arrive in Bath by evening, where they engaged a room at a hotel and took supper in the hotel restaurant.

“You still won’t tell me where we’re going?” Laurie asked, as they ate.

“No,” Gilbert confirmed. “It is, I’m afraid, somewhat illegal, Laurie.”

That made Laurie’s eyebrows rise, fork pausing above his next bite. “How illegal?”

“It depends on who you ask.”

Laurie said his fork down. “ Gilbert.”

“It’s…” Gilbert sighed. “The love as described in the
Symposium
. It is
illegal
, Laurie.”

“And we’re going to…”

“It’s called a ‘molly house’,” Gilbert said, keeping his voice quiet. “A pub, where man of such temperaments might find companionship.”

“Oh, Christ.” Laurie put down his fork and looked away.

“You don’t wish to go.” Gilbert sounded apologetic.

“I don’t know what I wish, Gilbert.” Everything felt complicated, all at once, even though that make no sense. Nothing had changed, as their wager continued. It was merely philosophy. Merely conversation. Merely a trip to the countryside.

Laurie’s heart ached. He felt dizzy, lost, and frustrated, and didn’t want to allow himself to question why. At last, he sighed. “We’ll go. It’s only fair. All is fair, isn’t it, in love and philosophy?”

Gilbert’s smile was empty and uncomfortable. Laurie felt half sick with guilt, and picked miserably at his food.

T
he pub
where they went was down a quiet dark alley, not far from one of the main squares. Bath was cleaner, overall, than London, owing to its nature as a resort town, and there were fewer footpads to fear.

“How do you know this place?” Laurie asked, as they turned down the alleyway.

“Through an acquaintance,” Gilbert said. “I have never before been to Bath, although I admit that I secured this address on learning that we were coming to Somersetshire.”

“Is it safe?”

“It is,” Gilbert reminded him, “illegal. But you need not fear that the patrons of this establishment would do you any harm or indignity. No one will touch you, unless you will it.”

They came to a door which was shut fast. Gilbert knocked. After only a brief delay, a panel in the door slid open and a face peeked at them. “Who are you?” the face demanded.

“I am Mr. Gilbert Heckwith. This is my husband.”

“Aye, and who’s to say you ain’t a copper?”

Gilbert smiled with surprising calm, and turned his head toward Laurie. “My love?” he asked, clasping his hand around the back of Laurie’s neck and pulling him into a kiss.

Laurie didn’t resist, understanding that it was necessary to play the role if they wanted admission. Gilbert’s lips were warm and soft, and the kiss lingered for a few seconds with earnest sweetness as Gilbert made it convincing.

The man behind the door scoffed with approving humour. “That’s your husband, all right.”

The door unlocked, and opened.

Gilbert grinned. His hand had returned to Laurie’s lower back, guiding him inside. They heard laughter and even music, as someone played a fiddle. Beyond the entryway was a second door, and through that was the main room of the pub.

Heads turned to watch them enter. A motley group of men and women sat ranged through the establishment, some of them in each other’s laps.

Gilbert guided him to a table, and left him there briefly as he went to the bar to secure drinks. Left at a table of curious strangers, Laurie suddenly realised two things: first, that he and Gilbert were among the youngest and handsomest patrons in the pub, and second, that the two women at the table were not, in fact, women. “Good evening,” he said, beginning to blush.

“Good evening to you,” said one of the mollies, leaning forward over the table in a manner that allowed Laurie to look straight down the molly’s bodice. “Aren’t you two a pair of dandies?”

“I am blessed with a very handsome husband,” Laurie confirmed, trying his best to
not
look down the molly’s bodice.

“Aren’t you just. We haven’t seen you here before.”

“We’re up from London,” Laurie explained, as Gilbert returned and placed a mug of ale before him. Laurie took a grateful gulp of the drink.

“And delighted to meet you all,” said Gilbert. He smiled at them as though they were all new friends, and scooted his chair closer to Laurie, behaving in all aspects like a besotted lover.

“I don’t suppose,” the molly asked, “that the two of you are in need of some additional companionship for the evening?”

“No, my regrets,” Gilbert said, perfectly calm but without hesitation. “I’m very jealous of him.”

“I would be, too,” said one of the other gentlemen at the table, “were he my husband.”

Laurie blushed, and took another sip of ale in order to hide his face.

“You’ll have to forgive my husband his blushes,” Gilbert said. “He’s very shy, and rather new to the entire concept of affection between men.”

“Oh, a virgin!” said the flirtatious molly, earning laughter all around the table. “How lucky for you. What fun. I do so love virgins.”

Laurie choked on his ale.

“It would be entirely indecorous of me to comment on that subject,” Gilbert said, although his smile encouraged them to believe as they liked.

Around the room, there was plenty of kissing and fondling. Laurie found himself with a constant blush on his cheeks as he watched, and he returned his gaze frequently to the much safer view of the bubbles in his ale. A molly in a splendid gown took the stage and sang a scandalous song about cocks and bums, to the general laughter of the room.

“We’re going to go shag,” said one of the mollies at their table with evident delight, speaking of the gentleman whose lap he was occupying. “Anyone want to come watch?”

Laurie choked on his ale again, which set Gilbert to laughing. The first molly left the table with three of the other gentlemen, after which the other molly went to find more affectionate companionship at another table.

Once they were alone at the table, Laurie relaxed, watching the folk all around them with wary interest. He could not be certain, on the topic of their wager, as to whether or not the affection he saw around the room was truly love, but he did indeed see several couples and one trio of gentlemen who seem to share some more serious connection. Among those, some wore women’s clothing, some others wore suits which would outdo the most extravagant dandy, and some were soberly dressed in a manner that would be accepted as respectable in any London gathering. They seem to have all their own jokes, and plenty of songs, an entire culture about which Laurie had never known. He wondered how much Gilbert knew about it.