I’d ride to the ends of the earth for you.
“An association with me would not bode well for your social currency,” Lyndon felt obligated to point out.And as for Rossingley’s opinion on the liaison, he shuddered to imagine.
“Absolute tosh, Fitz.You are Ashington’s twin brother.And would be a part of Ashington and Rossingley’s intimate circle.No one who cared about their own social currency would dare cut you.You shall accompany me to every ball, whereupon I shall dance and flirt with every eligible daughter and make you insanely jealous.”
“You can’t, and you won’t,” Lyndon growled, “because you belong to me.”He pushed Rollo onto his back, and with his other hand, Lyndon wrenched loose the fall of his own breeches.To hell with the servants and whoever else chose that moment to wander past his lake.
Rollo’s laughing eyes gazed up at him as Lyndon tugged down his trousers, cursing as the voluminous folds of their shirts impeded his progress.
“I can and I shall.”Rollo lifted himself for up a kiss as Lyndon found his prize, and his cock found bare flesh.“But I shall only have eyes for you.The pain of our farewell will be but a scratch, you’ll see.I shall be back before you even notice I’ve gone.”
*
AS WAS THEwarp and weft of things, the moment of Rollo’s departure the next morning dragged on for far too long, yet was over in a flash.And still, Lyndon succeeded in making an utter hash of it.
Even though he had sworn not to, he woke in an enormous, childish sulk.Made a million times worse because he’d woken alone.With Dobson already loading his valises, Rollo had crept from Lyndon’s bed at first light, which had given him far too much time alone, prior to his own toilette, to contemplate and to brood and to doubt.
How easily he was swept away on a tide of love and desire with Rollo in his arms!How readily he believed in Rollo’s promises of a rosy future, how the troubled waters of his mind stilled.How peacefully his demons slumbered.And all because a youth of nineteen years, with no more knowledge of the workings of the world than the old beech tree outside his window, said so.
As young bucks, Lyndon and Will had also once believed in their own invincibility, and look how that had turned out.Lyndon had always taken Benedict’s constancy as his divine right, too, not to mention the bottomless wealth.Then he’d had it all pulled from under him in the blink of an eye.What did Rollo know of the harsh realities of life, cocooned at bloody Rossingley all these years?
By the time he’d completed his half-baked toilette, Lyndon had worked himself into a foul temper.He scowled at himself in the glass, at his fiery coppery locks.Who cared that his hair looked as if a dangerous winter animal nested in it?It wasn’t as if anyone would be running their silly, dainty little hands through it any time soon.As he slammed his bedchamber door behind him, Lyndon all but concluded that his destiny was to be alone.Heartfelt declarations of love whilst wrestling on a soft woollen blanket under a limpid blue sky did not change that.
His sulking intensified throughout breakfast.Instead of indulging Rollo’s excited chatter with his usual snippy witticisms, Lyndon treated him to a series of grunts until, eventually, his lover gave up and fell quiet.Undaunted, Lyndon directed his smouldering, barely suppressed misery at Cook’s excellent beef sausages.
“These are undercooked,” he declared.
“Mine are fried to perfection,” answered Rollo coolly.
“And my poached eggs have sat too long in water.The yolks are as hard as yesterday’s bread.”
“And yet you have eaten three.”Rollo threw him an amused smile over the rim of his coffee cup.“Is the coffee too bitter, also?”
Lyndon nodded.“As a matter of fact, it is.I drank the second cup just to be sure.”
With a long-suffering sigh, Rollo put his own cup down.“Care to tell me what’s really the trouble?”
“You leaving me is the trouble.”Lyndon balled his napkin in his fist.His fingers itched for his bow.“My bed’s going to be lonely tonight.And cold.”
“Three weeks, Fitz,” Rollo answered in a voice suggesting Lyndon was testing his patience.Already dressed in his travelling clothes, he had chosen a place setting halfway along the dining table.If he wasn’t leaving, he’d have been in Lyndon’s lap, feeding Lyndon tasty slivers of crisp bacon from his long, greasy fingers.And peppering his mouth with greasy kisses.Another reason to be sulky.
“Longer,” grunted Lyndon.“You’ll be so happy at your perfect, flawless Rossingley, with your perfect, flawless papa, and perfect, flawless twin that you won’t return.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Rollo warned.“If you continue like this, then I shall regret that I’m not already there.”His tone softened.“Fitz, darling, please don’t spoil things.I wish Rossingley were closer to Norfolk, too, but it isn’t.So that’s that.We just need to be grown up about it.”
Grinning, he selected a triangle of toast.“And you have more than a decade on me in that regard.So perhaps you should lead by example.”
God, he looked young.Lyndon’s heart ached as he watched Rollo slather his toast in butter, then take a healthy bite.How on earth he’d tricked himself into imagining this beguiling young man would be constant and faithful only to him, for the rest of his days, was an utter mystery.
“Having a decade on you is part of the problem.I should know—I’ve been as young as you are now.You say you love me, and I believe that you do.Currently.But you won’t come back.Everybody gets fed up with me in the end.”
Lyndon dropped his knife and fork with a clatter and pushed his chair back.He’d burst into tears if he stayed much longer, or worse, drop to his knees and plead.“If you’ll excuse me, I shall sojourn to the drawing room.”
“Wait!Is that it?”Rollo stood, too, a look of hurt on his face.“After making love all night, is this how we part?On a quarrel?”
Lyndon’s throat tightened.What did he want?Tears?Entreaties?
“I’m not a man for showy goodbyes,” Lyndon stated.“We said all we needed to last night in each other’s arms.I…I…” His eyes filled.“Goodbye.Until we meet again.”
