The Tutor (21 page)

Over the next few weeks, it seemed grace had befallen me in Allinson Hall. All

the haunting presences withdrew to their proper place—a dim memory. I awoke from no more nightmares of choking to death or running relentlessly to escape an unseen attacker.

Nor did I have any messages or signs of Lavinia’s spirit prompting me to save her family.

It was easy to put aside my worries and feel I’d overdramatized the whole thing.

When Whitney brought me two bundles of fragrant herbs tied to primitive figures

made of braided hay and said he’d found them under his and Clive’s beds, I knew Tom had crafted them. The wards seemed foolishly superstitious in my new frame of mind.

“I believe Tom is trying to protect you boys from nightmares,” I told Whit. “A

kind gesture that does no harm. Why don’t you leave them where you found them?”

My fears for the twins’ safety receded. Everything seemed to be going well, and I

was distracted by new romance, viewing everything through a hazy glow. Yes, the

brothers still seemed to be at odds, but they’d get past their quarrel eventually. Yes, Clive hardly spoke, but now he communicated a little, so I chose to see that as an improvement.

He was no quieter, more withdrawn, or prone to disappearing for stretches of time than he ever had been before, I told myself. And I was happy to believe that fiction.

I was too focused on my dream come true, almost nightly visits with Richard. In

the late hours, we’d meet in the chapel or library, or I’d slip into his grand bedroom and his massive bed, never my own room, which was too near the boys.

We spent time together—not only fucking, although that required a considerable

amount of our attention, but talking, eating, drinking, and making silly jokes together. I learned the dour man had a sense of humor after all and glimpsed the boy he’d once been, the man he could still be if he sloughed off the burden of this house and of fighting his desires. Over several weeks, we became lovers in every sense of the word, and all dark thoughts evaporated.

Sir Richard continued to come around the schoolroom several times a week, and

sometimes, on fine days we’d meet him outdoors. Once he even participated in a game of tag, chasing a laughing Whit around a circular garden bed until both of them collapsed breathless in dead leaves. I was so entranced by the sight of father and son finding joy in each another’s company that I felt more annoyed than sympathetic toward Clive, who remained distant and scowling like a disapproving gargoyle.

I walked over to him. “Why don’t you join in? This stubbornness has gone on

long enough. Will you cling to blame for the rest of your life?”

Clive shot me a look the equivalent of pouring boiling oil on invaders then

marched off toward the house and disappeared inside.

I could have gone after him. I could’ve insisted he remain outdoors with us, or at least spent time alone with him, trying to bridge the chasm. I didn’t do either of those things. I simply let him go.

Just then, Richard rose and turned his attention to catching me, since he hadn’t

succeeded with Whit. I was happy to run away and led him a merry chase all the way into the hidden garden. The moment we were out of sight of the house or Whit or any watching eyes, I let him catch and kiss me until I had to cling to his shoulders to remain upright.

I hadn’t been this happy or content since the heady days when Leighton first

pulled me up from the mud pit of Spitalfields, washed me off, dressed me up, and started me on my road to becoming a new man.

But this was even better, I realized one night as I lay beside Richard’s furnace of a body, breathing slowly and deeply as he slept. I was even more joy filled because I— knowledge struck me and a bolt of fear along with it. Because I
loved
Richard Allinson.

And his sons.

And the sense of having something almost like a family, which I hadn’t

experienced since I was very young.

Love was an almost unknown quantity to me. I’d held deep affection and

gratitude toward dear Sylvester, and very much liked other lovers over the years, but this voracious, all-consuming desire for a man was something quite new. The more hours I spent with Richard, the deeper grew my yearning to have even more time together. A relationship, doomed to be short-lived, had become far too important to me. I’d never expected that development.

This world isn’t made of sunshine, and a cloudy day is coming soon.
Mother’s words rang in my head in that crystalline moment when I realized I’d fallen in love. But I was able to pretend her warning wasn’t true—for a time.

One very late night, Richard and I were again stretched across the small country

of his ridiculously oversized bed, reading in companionable silence. We lay in opposite directions; I stretched on my stomach with my book propped before me, Richard sitting upright, several pillows supporting his back.

I’d nearly reached the thrilling moment in the story when the detective would

unveil the perpetrator of the crime and explain how the deed was done. I read faster, heart pounding with anticipation to see if my guess was correct.

A fingertip traced a tickling line from my heel to my toes over the arch of my

foot, pulling me back from the brink. I glanced at my lover over one shoulder. “You are an annoying man.”

“You shouldn’t have your feet near my face.”

“Do they reek?” I demanded, shoving my toes closer.

He growled and grabbed my foot, and I was made to pay horribly for my

impertinence as he tickled me mercilessly. I twisted my body with my ankle still in his grip and pushed at his arm with my free foot. He ignored it and continued to tickle until I was breathless with laughter and squirming to get away. Both our books went crashing to the floor, and pillows went flying off the bed in the ensuing struggle.

I broke loose long enough to nearly crawl away. He caught me and dragged me

back onto the mattress, pinning me under his great weight until I called a muffled “I surrender” into the bedding.

I turned my face and gasped, “Get off me, you great oaf.”

Richard chuckled and rolled aside to lie beside me. I nipped the large biceps so

near my mouth, then kissed the spot I’d bitten. “I enjoy your company too much.”

“And I yours.” He looked sideways at me. “Far too much. I spend most of my

days dreaming of the upcoming night. It can make it difficult to concentrate on my duties.”

“What duties does a gentleman
have
, exactly?” I teased. “Isn’t it simply to dress nicely and be seen at social events? That’s what I learned in London.”

“Some gentlemen get by with little more than making the social rounds and

spending a lot of time at their clubs. But those who take their responsibilities seriously tend to a hundred little details about the various properties and tenants. I confer with my land agent about the crops being raised and chances for improved yield with alternate crops or better seed. I hear the tenants’ grievances and try to alleviate their concerns as much as possible.”

“All that? To hear tell at the pub, you’re practically a stranger in their midst. I can’t imagine anyone bringing any complaints to your doorstep.”

“I learn these things through my agent. I don’t actually stop in at the cottages.” A small frown furrowed his brow, and I considered maybe it was time to stop joking.

Richard clearly took his position in the community to heart.

“They respect you,” I hastened to add. “They just don’t know you as I do. You’re

some mythic, mysterious figure to them.”

Richard tapped a finger on his bare chest. “My grandfather was quite a popular

landlord. He won both the admiration and respect of the locals. He recalled everyone’s name down to the tiniest newborn. But when my father inherited, he lost the store of goodwill Grandfather had built.”

“What did your father do?”

“Nothing. That was the problem. He spent most of his time in London—with his

mistress, I learned later. Mother was bitter, disappointed in her life here, and made no effort in the community. When it was my turn to take the reins, I vowed I’d drive the estate better than my parents had. Fiscally, I’ve brought it back from the brink, but I’ve never had the knack of being personable. Still, I’ve kept the land intact, and I suppose that’s the important thing.”

I thought of how the men in the village had spoken of Allinson as cold and distant and wished every one of them could know how much he cared for their community, even if he didn’t know how to behave in an affable way. I felt greatly privileged to have been allowed to see his other side, the warm, laughing fellow who tickled my feet and made love with the intensity of a diamond-tipped cutting blade.

“Go around the pub once in a while,” I suggested. “Share a pint. Let the

commoners know you as more than lord of the manor.”

The finger on his chest tapped faster. “I wouldn’t know what to say.”

“You’re a shy chap at heart. That’s your secret. If you don’t know what to talk

about, ask them about their lives. Those men will go on for hours with very little prompting.”

“I should tell you something.” Richard abruptly changed the subject. “I’ve

thought about what you said concerning removing the boys from the house where their mother died. There are too many sad memories for them here, especially Clive.”

My drowsy, sated, postsex mood evaporated, and I was instantly wide awake.

“So you plan to move to the London house for a while?”

I would be able to see my old friends again in my free time. The idea was

exhilarating. There might be difficulty in finding ways to be alone with Richard in the smaller city house with staff all around, but we’d manage to carry on. Perhaps sometimes we’d take the boys to the art gallery or zoological gardens. Or the museum. They’d love the Egyptian display. Away from this house, Clive would likely improve so I could stop worrying about whether I should be doing more to protect him from that evil influence.

“How soon are you planning the move?” I asked.

“You misunderstand me.” Now, all four of Richard’s fingers drummed quickly.

“I’ve concluded it’s past time the boys went to school. I myself was sent at age eight. I thought keeping them home would give them time to grieve for their mother. They’d been through enough upheaval without facing the daunting move into a dormitory. But now I believe it would be healthier for them to be around lads their own age and follow the normal course of a boy’s education. I’ve made special arrangements to have them enrolled mid school year. Next term, in fact.”

I felt as if I’d been slapped across the face by one of those Eton teachers Leighton had told me horror stories of. From everything Sylvester had said, a proper British gentleman’s education was near to criminal neglect of the spirit. There was no room for a dreamy or nonathletic lad, no quarter given to the artistic or inquisitive soul, no kindness or nurturing for a boy who was a little different. Leighton claimed his years in boarding school were hell on earth.

Besides, with no more need for a tutor for the boys, I’d be booted out the door.

The casual way Richard had informed me of the news suggested he didn’t care that our time together would be coming to an end. Maybe he’d never seen me as more than a body to ease his needs and warm his bed for a while. Something less than a person and easily cut loose—just as he’d fired Eccleston when he became inconvenient. Just as Leighton had abandoned me when he grew bored and wanted something new.

I’d made the mistake of forgetting I was expendable, the error of beginning to feel things I shouldn’t have felt.

“So, you’ve decided that, have you?” I felt suddenly far too vulnerable lying on

my back, naked. I climbed off the big bed and began to hunt for my clothes.

“I believe it’s best for the boys, don’t you?”

I didn’t dare turn to look at him lest he see the emotions I barely controlled. “I’m certain it would be better for them to be away from here.” I scooped my smalls from the floor and thrust a leg in.

“It was inevitable they’d leave for school.” He sounded almost as if he were

pleading with me.

“Of course it was.” I found my trousers half underneath the bed along with

Richard’s open book facedown on the floor. I closed the book and set it on the nightstand, then put on my trousers.

“I would compensate you for lost wages for the next several months.”

The offer felt like a knife between my shoulder blades. But hadn’t I come here for the money? I’d be paid and have plenty of opportunity to search for a better position.

“Naturally I’d give you an impeccable reference,” Richard continued.

“Very generous, considering what you learned about my credentials. I couldn’t be

more grateful.” It was all I could do to offer the clipped words of appreciation.

“There are still several weeks before the boys would leave. In the meantime, I’ll

require help preparing them for the move, acquiring uniforms, packing everything and the like. There’s no need for you to leave for quite some time.”

“I serve at your command,” I gritted through clenched teeth.
I won’t cry. I will
not
burst into tears like a schoolgirl with crushed hopes and dashed dreams.

The bed creaked, and soft footsteps padded up behind me. His hand rested heavily

on my shoulder, and I winced from the pain of that touch.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he murmured. “I shall miss your presence

greatly. If I could think of any way, some way that we could manage to…”

Even now, that low, hoarse voice sent my belly into a slow, lazy roll and rubbed

my flesh like warm velvet. How could he affect me so when all I wanted to do was turn and slap him hard enough to sting my palm?

“I shall miss you too, but time moves on,” I said so lightly the words nearly

bumped against the ceiling.

I moved away from his hand on my shoulder, found my undershirt, and put it on.