Convincing Arthur (4 page)

sucking him off.

A tired chuckle rumbled his chest as he sat on the bed to remove his trousers.

Thornton certainly knew how to keep a man on his toes. Arthur would never use the

word “staid” to describe him. The thrill of excitement, the intense attraction that came

part and parcel with Thornton was a unique sensation all its own. Perhaps this was just

what Arthur needed—a complete break from his usual routine. An opportunity to

indulge, to broaden his experiences. And as long as he kept their short holiday in

perspective, he wouldn't run the risk of being disappointed again.

All right. More than disappointed.

After folding his trousers and leaving them on the chair for a servant to clean and

press, he doused the candles, pulled back the forest green coverlet, and climbed into

bed. As he settled in to get a few hours of sleep, he couldn't help but look forward to

tomorrow—and not simply because he'd have the opportunity to go shooting. His stay

at Ramsey House should prove…interesting.

* * * * *

corridor. Hand on the knob, he glanced over his shoulder, half expecting to see Arthur

emerge from his room, bag in hand. But after traveling for days, the last thing the man

likely wanted to do was get back into a carriage. Thank God Yorkshire was not an easy

distance from London.

20

Ava March

The worry pacified, he entered his own bedchamber. A newly stoked fire burned

in the hearth, and the black coverlet on the large four-poster bed had been turned

down. The silver candelabra on the dresser and the candlestick on the bedside table lit

the room. Jones had already come and gone. Discreet as always. He should give the

man a raise in pay. Jones certainly deserved it, and especially for vacating Arthur's

bedchamber so quickly.

No longer able to hold it back a moment longer, Leopold let the grin split his face

as he unbuttoned his coat. Pure, giddy happiness sang through his veins.
Ah hell
. He'd

just sucked off Arthur Barrington, and Arthur had let him. Could the evening end any

better?

Well, yes. They could have made good use of Arthur's bed, rumpling the tidy

blankets and thoroughly exploring each other's body. Discovering what else would

prompt that low, primal growl from Arthur. The sound that was so very much at odds

with the man's buttoned-up and restrained appearance. Hell, he'd never even seen

Arthur's short chestnut hair anything but neatly combed. But the shock written all over

Arthur's face when Leopold had asked him if he wanted more had been answer

enough. When it came to sexual encounters, clearly Arthur moved at a different pace

than himself.

He tossed his coat on the bed and removed his waistcoat. So much for his plan to

keep his hands to himself tonight. Maybe two weeks of abstinence had not been the best

idea. Long accustomed to gluttony, his body wasn't used to going without. But the

possibility of Arthur had filled his head to the point where he had been unable to

indulge with anyone else, not even for a quick, anonymous fuck. While he wasn't above

seeing to his own pleasure, he craved the touch of another as much as the release: the

giving, the heady feeling of being wanted even if only for empty pleasure, as much as

the getting. And taking himself in hand did little to quell those desires.

The end result of his self-imposed celibacy? Aroused to the point where he'd been

unable to keep himself in check. To resist the temptation of being alone with Arthur

Convincing Arthur

21

behind a closed door. Hopefully he hadn't scared the man off. In any case, the

encounter served to cement Leopold's intentions for the coming days. If Arthur

remained at Ramsey House come dawn, then he'd stay until the end of their holiday.

Four days. Leopold planned to use them to his full advantage, because judging by

Arthur's stiffer-than-usual posture and wary glances, Leopold would need all that time,

and possibly more, to convince Arthur to continue their relationship when they

returned to London.

Once he finished undressing, he gathered the garments on the bed and went into

the dressing room, dumping the clothes in a pile on the floor. At some point tomorrow,

the pile would disappear, and Jones would have the clothing returned to the hooks and

shelves lining the small room. Most men of his standing employed valets, but Leopold

found them inconvenient. What with their need to slink into a bedchamber before dawn

to light the fire and make preparations for the coming day. His last valet had seen quite

more than he'd bargained for one morning, and the man's silence over the incident had

not come cheap.

No valet meant he had to dress and shave himself, but it was a small price to pay

to keep unwanted servants out of his bedchamber. Jones traveled with him when he

came to Ramsey House to escape London and clear his head of the excesses of that city.

The man saw to all the trivial matters like lighting the fire, tidying up, and keeping his

wardrobe at its best. With him for years, Jones knew all Leopold's preferences, down to

the full bottle of whisky and cut-crystal tumbler on the bedside table.

But he wouldn't need to fill that empty glass tonight. The glimmer of hope filling

his heart chased away the loneliness and pain far better than liquor. Arthur was here, in

Leopold's home, at last. Ten years of waiting had not been in vain.

And for the first time in as long as he could remember, he fell asleep with a smile

on his face.

22

Ava March

Chapter Three

Crisp and bright, the early-morning sun bathed the field dotted with low bushes

and a few clusters of pine trees. The twigs and dried leaves scattered over the grass

crunched beneath Arthur's footsteps. If he closed his eyes, he would think himself

alone; Thornton's strides were so perfectly timed with his own that Arthur didn't even

hear them. Chill air filled his every breath, clearing away the pent-up stress from his

office as nothing else could.

His uncle had taken Arthur on his first shooting expedition when he had been but

ten years of age, and the moment he had seen the dawn break across the field, he had

gained a fondness for shooting. Whether he came home with a pheasant or two didn't

matter as much as the long, quiet walks. He had relished the chance to relax and simply

take in the scenery and spend time with his uncle that didn't include questions about

his schoolwork, or later, discussions about the office.

He tipped his face toward the sun, savoring its feeble warmth. Much too long

since he'd been out like this in the morning. London had parks aplenty, but they didn't

compare. It wasn't ever truly quiet in the city, and no matter where he went, the sounds

of carriages and people going about their day lingered in the air. Imposing on his few

acquaintances who resided in the country was out of the question, and he had never

Convincing Arthur

23

indulged in such a home himself. His work kept him confined to Town, with few

opportunities to leave for any length of time, so he couldn't justify the expense of a

country home when he could only use it a few times a year.

Therefore, he had jumped at Thornton's invitation, quickly clearing his schedule

and making arrangements for his secretary to send any pressing correspondences via

express post to Ramsey House. A diligent worker and good-tempered, the young man

kept Arthur on schedule, but he tended to consider most everything pressing. No doubt

a stack of correspondences would await him on the desk in his bedchamber when he

returned to Thornton's home.

For now, though, he wiped thoughts of clients and all their various concerns from

his mind and soaked up the morning and the opportunity to spend time with Thornton

that didn't include anything more than walking across fields. The footman trailing a

good dozen paces behind them, with the bag containing Arthur's sole successful shot of

the day slung over his shoulder, kept away the possibility for more. Without the

constant crackle of anticipation stringing his nerves taut, he could relax and simply

enjoy Thornton's company.

And he was turning out to be a nice shooting companion. Arthur glanced at

Thornton, who walked beside him. The man's gaze was fixed somewhere off to the left,

toward a great expanse of open field with gently rolling hills. The slight flush on his

cheeks and on the tip of his nose from the chill air made him appear so much younger

than his twenty-nine years, but the stubble from the morning beard darkening his jaw

firmly reminded one he was a man. The greatcoat he hadn't bothered to button hung

open, exposing the brown riding coat and tan breeches that hugged the lean muscles of

his thighs. Surprisingly enough, he had kept rather silent, with only a question thrown

out here and there, none of them loaded with double meanings, no talk of last night,

and no heated stares. But that could have something to do with the fact that eight

o'clock could not have come and gone yet. Arthur doubted Thornton had seen this side

of the morning in years. And he had to admit to a bit of shock when he'd come

24

Ava March

downstairs before dawn to find Thornton in the entrance hall, greatcoat and gloves on,

waiting for him.

Apparently Thornton
was
capable of getting out of bed at such an “
ungodly hour
,”

as he had put it.

“The office keeping you busy?” Thornton asked, breaking his stretch of silence.

“More than busy.” So busy, he frequently took supper at his desk and walked

home well after dark. “But I much prefer it to the alternative. Wouldn't want to have to

beg clients to take me on.”

The end of Thornton's rifle grazed his thigh as the man shifted the firearm from

his right hand to his left. Judging by the way Thornton casually held the rifle in one

hand at his side, he was not an avid hunter. At least he kept the barrel pointed to the

ground and away from their feet.

“I heard Amherst pulled his business from your office and took it elsewhere.”

Arthur furrowed his brow at the unexpected remark; then comprehension

dawned. So that explained how Thornton had surmised he had split with Randolph.

“Yes, he did.”

A rustle in a group of nearby low bushes caught his attention. He tightened his

grip on his rifle, poised to swing it down from his shoulder, when a squirrel scurried

into sight. The dales of Yorkshire were renowned as prime shooting grounds, but

pheasants must not be fond of Thornton's property. He'd only spotted a handful this

morning. No bother, though. The sun was shining, and it wasn't so cold that his fingers

and toes had gone numb. All in all, a pleasant outing.

They were well past those bushes when Thornton spoke again. “You are aware he

wasn't faithful to you.”

Alarm tightened his gut. Shocked both by the nature of Thornton's casual

statement and the possible truth behind it, Arthur stopped in his tracks and shot a

glance to the footman.

Convincing Arthur

25

“Don't worry about Jones. He won't hear a thing.” His ambling pace

uninterrupted, Thornton flicked his gloved fingers, motioning for Arthur to keep

moving.

Indecision locked him to the spot. He didn't want to have Randolph's exploits

thrown in his face, declaring him a fool for staying with the man for so long. But… A

few long strides had him at Thornton's shoulder once again. “How can you be certain?”

He pitched his voice low. Regardless of Thornton's claim regarding his footman's poor

hearing, he much preferred the servant did not overhear this particular conversation.

Thornton's full lips thinned to a straight line; a furrow marred his brow. His gaze

on his boots, he didn't immediately respond. “I saw him at Delacroix's on more than

one occasion.”

He recognized the name—Madame Delacroix's, a decadent West End brothel with

a near-endless supply of beautiful women, and according to rumor, a handful of

handsome, accommodating men as well. At least Randolph had the good sense not to

go to some nunnery in the stews. Those places were rife with diseases. To his surprise,

having Randolph's infidelity confirmed didn't hurt as much as expected. Could be due

to the fact that he had already accepted it as fact and resigned himself to it. Still, not a

comfortable thing to have told to him.

Letting out a sigh, he looked beyond the field to the line of trees up ahead that

marked a forest. “I surmised as much recently. Would you happen to know if he hired

a…?”