Page 13 of Measure of a Man

Yes, he believed he would take a Lord or be taken by him. Specifically, the tall broad-shouldered one with thighs like Goliath that was sitting opposite him. His blood raced at the thought of taking Exeter; his friend’s thick weapon spearing him. He could only hope to God that his prick hadn’t visibly twitched at the thought, too. Although, there wasn’t much chance of that while he was being patted down by Sir Vincent. The exasperated look he tossed at Exeter failed to meet its mark, as his friend was already preoccupied with staring at Sir Vincent, his brows drawn in a rather glowering manner.

“Have a care, sir, and remove your hand, or have you not fondled Virtue enough?” Exeter pressed the head of his caned stick to the man’s chest. The silver ram butted Sir Vincent twice in the sternum.

Sir Vincent waved the cane away as he drew back. “I’ll be damned, gentlemen,” he announced to the room at large, his voice carrying throughout the lounge bar. “Exhibit him at Tattersalls and you’d know no difference.”

“Then why did he lose?” Someone piped up from over by the billiards room.

“Because I’m as thick as a mutton leg,” Exeter exclaimed.

“You sure you don’t mean thick and mutton-headed?”

“Oh, I’m that too.” Exeter laughed and then leaned over to tap Virtue on the knee. “Are you walking back or shall we share a cab?”

They always shared a hackney back together, dropping Virtue off first on the absurdly short distance from the club to his bachelor rooms in Jermyn Street, while Exeter carried on his much longer journey to the slightly more respectable neighbourhood of Brook Street. They had performed the same routine for the past four years after Exeter had insisted that Virtue didn’t walk as recompense for having rescued him from a sure death. So why did he need to ask now? “Don’t you want to do what we always do?” He said, standing to gather his things.

“An excellent question,” Exeter replied as they left White’s.

Blast.

Double Blast.

He had ruined their friendship. It had been too strange what happened in the tailor shop. He was about to be given the congé by Exeter. The sudden unfairness of it all rode over him, a crushing sadness that trampled his soul. To lose something before it was gained, before he’d worked out what that ‘something’ even was. He gnawed at the inside of his cheek. There was no doubt, he’d never felt this moved over a woman. But to force his feelings over his friends? No, he’d take his dismissal with dignity. They’d both find themselves imminently busy with overseeing their estates and that would feasibly keep them out of each other’s way for a good six months if not more. It was possible they could avoid each other’s notice until New Year…and then… perhaps the peculiar magic of the male mind might occur, granting them the ability to ignore monumental events as if they were nothing. Perhaps then, they might return to their friendship anew.

Up in the hackney, he sat on his hands and waited for the boot to fall on him. They drove the short distance to the bottom of Jermyn Street in silence. Virtue wished he lived somewhere else, miles away, Bloomsbury. His dunderheaded self would have lived quite happily swimming out of his depth among people of learning as long as it would have made this final carriage just a bit bloody longer.

Exeter’s face was turned to the window. He lazily drummed the glass with the backs of his fingers seemingly lost to his thoughts. In his other hand, he toyed with an acorn, of all things, rubbing his thumb down its smooth contours.

When the carriage pulled up outside Virtue’s lodgings, Exeter flicked the latch up for him, before he could. With a benign smile he motioned him to step down.

I’m all but being bundled out, was his desolate thought, as he hopped down from the cab.

A set of feet landed behind him.

“I’ll come in with you.”

Virtue couldn’t bear to turn round and look at him, so continued to talk and walk up the path. “Supper at the club not good enough? You barely ate.” Neither had he. “I’m afraid my man of works isn’t around. I don’t pay him for the nights I dine at the club, you see. Will port and cold luncheon meat do?”

“Not exactly what I had in mind.”

CHAPTER 6

Exeter backed him against the hallway wall, knocking the breath out of him and upending the hat stand. Virtue squeezed his eyes closed and braced for the cold crack of knuckles to his jaw.

Instead, soft lips captured his mouth. Exeter’s large hands tilted Virtue’s face up to meet his own. Virtue’s mouth opened on a gasp and he kissed him back. The unmistakable swell of Exeter’s hardness pressed against his hip.

Exeter broke away first, his hand still fisted in the lapels of Virtue’s coat. “Do we understand each other?” There was an urgency to his tone and body. “I need to know that you understand what this is.”

Understand what? That his friend was kissing him? If he said no, would Exeter stop whatever this was? Well, he didn’t want that to happen.

“Not quite. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to keep kissing me.”

Exeter looked momentarily frustrated by the answer, but then he slipped his hand between them, feeling the aching stiffness in Virtue’s trousers.

“So you do.”

Exeter’s brow relaxed, but not enough. What wasn’t he getting? But he couldn’t dwell on it when his prick had gone from confused and interested to rock-hard the second that Exeter had cupped his groin. He swallowed nervously under Exeter’s charged gaze.

“You said your man, James, is not in. Anyone else?”