Chapter 23

Andrew’s physician had come and gone by the time the two returned to Old Burlington Street. He had pronounced Jeremy’s ribs bruised, though not broken. His wrenched leg would heal, but he’d need to stay off of it as much as possible for a while. Dressings had been applied to various cuts and scrapes, and he’d been given a few drops of laudanum in water for the pain.

Through it all, Jeremy was grateful for Oliver and Thaddeus’s presence. After the doctor’s departure, Thad remained on the settee with Jeremy’s head in his lap, stroking through his hair. Jeremy’s eyes drooped as he fought to stay awake.

When the door opened and Andrew entered, he jumped. Immediately disregarding the doctor’s orders, he did his best to stand. His leg refused to support him, and he sat down hard against the cushion. But then Andrew was there, kneeling at his side, and Jeremy let out a slow breath of relief.

“Tell me.” Jeremy’s voice shook. “Is he…did I kill him?”

“You most certainly did not.”

“Shame.” Oliver’s voice came from his chair in the corner. “He had it coming.”

Andrew sent a scathing look in Oliver’s direction, then turned back to Jeremy. “You did not kill him, but he is dying. Syphilis.”

“Well that would explain his behaviour,” Thaddeus said.

“Even so, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone,” Andrew said. “Even him.”

“Will I be prosecuted? He fell down the stairs because of m—”

“He fell down the stairs because he tried to murder you. I cannot—I will not—allow you to be prosecuted for trying to save your own life. As it were, the physician doesn’t believe that he’ll live longer than a month. Not because of anything you did. His disease has progressed that far.”

Jeremy slumped back against the settee, his body protesting at the movement. “Oh god. Thank God.”

The entire time Andrew and Percy had been gone, Jeremy had gone over the possibilities. Oliver and Thaddeus had done their best to keep him distracted, but they couldn’t. He would have to leave Old Burlington Street. If word got out about what had happened to Stanhope, the blame would fall back on Andrew, and Jeremy couldn’t afford to take that risk. Andrew had been too kind to him. He had done too much for him, and Jeremy had repaid him with betrayal and scandal. Some lover he was. Only, he wasn’t a lover anymore. He’d done his best to apologise in the letter. Oh god, the letter. His face must have betrayed some emotion, as Andrew was right there beside him again.

“What is it?” he asked. “Are you in pain?”

Jeremy shook his head. “Not a tremendous amount. Dr. Peters gave me some laudanum. Said I’m not allowed to walk for a bit, while my leg heals.”

“Then what is it?”

“I—” He clamped his mouth shut

Andrew looked over at Oliver, Thaddeus, and Percy. “Thank you all for your assistance tonight. If you do not mind, I want to turn in for the evening. You may come see him tomorrow.”

The three men quickly departed the room, wishing Jeremy a speedy recovery.

“It’s everything,” Jeremy said as soon as the door was shut. “You, us, this. The letter.”

He winced, remembering how he’d scribbled out the words, tears dripping from the end of his nose. Writing the letter had been the hardest thing he’d ever done, but Andrew had been completely right in his anger. He had betrayed Andrew’s trust, all so he could satisfy his own curiosity.

“Yes, the letter. We do need to discuss what happened, but I would prefer we do so privately. You must be uncomfortable on the settee.”

It wasn’t horrible, but Jeremy nodded. He would be more comfortable talking in private. Only…

“I can’t walk. I mean, not to the guest bedroom. I don’t think I’d make it up the stairs.”

“I’ll have one of the footmen assist you.”

Before Jeremy could protest, Andrew had left the room again, returning with a tall, sandy-haired footman, whose name Jeremy couldn’t remember. The man slid one arm under his knees, the other bracing his back. As they started up the stairs, Jeremy grit his teeth. Each step was jarring and elicited a groan. By the time they reached the landing, he wished the physician had given him something stronger than laudanum. Tomorrow, he would ask Lawrence if he had anything stronger he could take. When the footman started toward Andrew’s bedroom, Jeremy blinked and looked over to Andrew.

“I thought you would put me in one of your spare rooms.”

Andrew shook his head. “Just trust me.”

The footman carried Jeremy into the bedroom and over to the bed. Groaning as he was eased onto the mattress, Jeremy settled against the pillows as the footman left. God, he would miss this bed. And the man who occupied it with him.

“Andrew, I—”

“We need to discuss—”

Jeremy managed a small laugh, his entire body protesting.

“You first,” Andrew said.

Taking a slow breath, Jeremy bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t know how to start, now, but he had to say something.

“I’m sorry, Andrew,” he said softly. “I know I’ve said it multiple times, but I need to say it again. I never should have invaded your privacy in that manner. Yes, I wanted to see your scar. There is no denying it. You allowed me to see your emotional ones, yet you kept your physical self so closed off from me.” The look on Andrew’s face pained him, but he kept going. “I just wanted to see you. All of you.”

Andrew stared down at his hands for several seconds before looking back up at Jeremy.

“I know. I’ve not allowed anyone to see all of me in a very long time.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “When I came back from Spain, I spent weeks trying to recover. Three months of relying on Percy and Oliver and Lawrence to do everything for me—bathe me, change my clothes, help me to the privy. And then I finally healed enough to move about on my own. To seek out comfort. A man has needs.”

He shot Jeremy a wan smile, and Jeremy wanted nothing more than to reach out and take Andrew’s hand. But he let the man continue. The words seemed to have the same effect as drawing poison from a wound.

“I am not above paying a willing man for comfort. Think what you will about me, sometimes it’s the only comfort our kind gets. I hired a molly boy, that first time after returning home from the Continent. He took one look at my back…I’m still unsure whether he found it more disgusting or amusing. He certainly did his fair share of laughing.”

“He wouldn’t be laughing if he ran into me,” Jeremy growled.

“No, I suppose he wouldn’t. Still, it doesn’t matter now. He was only one of many men who reacted in the same manner. Eventually I grew weary of their looks. Contempt, pity, disgust, it didn’t matter. I knew how they would see it, so I hid it from them. Just as I hid it from you.”

Jeremy considered that for a moment. “I am not a molly boy. I’m not some man you hired for pleasure. I was—”

“Different? I will admit you were. But I didn’t believe it mattered at the time. It wasn’t just molly boys, you see. I told you, others like us, they find each other. But their reactions were just as bad, if not worse. Didn’t want any reminder that their perfect, privileged lives were at the expense of others, I suppose.”

“Did you…with Oliver? I know you have with Percy, and I know that you were Thaddeus’s mentor as well…” It wasn’t a question that he should have been asking, and Jeremy knew that, but he needed to know.

“No. God no. Much as I care for Oliver as a friend, I don’t believe we would get on well in bed. And that will be the end of that.”

Jeremy relaxed against the bed, nodding then. The laudanum had a greater effect on him than he thought.

“I have to tell you, Jeremy,” Andrew started, and Jeremy opened his eyes again. “I know. It’s damned inconvenient, and I’ll let you sleep after. I have never felt so lost as when you left. I went to Percy. I was determined to search every building in the city to find you. To bring you back.”

“You told me to leave.” Jeremy’s words were thick as tears formed in the corners of his eyes. “You told me to get out of your house.”

Andrew cupped Jeremy’s unblemished cheek. “I am aware of what I said. And I apologise for every blasted word. I want to take them all back and pretend I never said a single one of them, but I did and I have to live with those consequences.”

Jeremy leaned into the touch. Even in the short span of time he’d been gone, he had missed it. To think that he would never feel Andrew’s touch again shook him to the very core of his being. Hot, wet tears trailed down his cheeks, stinging as they went, and Andrew brushed underneath his eye.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Stanhope’s threat?” Andrew asked.

“I didn’t know how you would react. There was nothing you could have done. He would have ruined you.”

“He was more than willing to ruin me anyway. At least we could have figured it out together.”

Jeremy couldn’t meet his gaze.

“What is it?” Andrew asked softly.

Licking his lips, he winced as his tongue traced the split. “You’ve given me so much—a place to stay, a commission, sponsorship—and in return, I nearly destroyed your reputation.”

“Hold on, you did nothing to harm my reputation. Stanhope wanted to harm me because he’s sick and because he hates my family. That isn’t on you.”

“I know that. I just wanted to work this out for myself so that you wouldn’t have to.”

Andrew nodded and pulled him closer, though not so tightly that his ribs hurt. They lay there silently for a few moments, just listening to each other breathe.

“I found your art supplies,” Andrew said. “A few brushes are broken, but I’ll see they’re replaced. I saw…Jeremy, I saw your sketches. The one of me. While I was asleep. And I felt…god damn it all. I love you, Jeremy. I love you so much it terrifies me because I’ve never experienced the feeling. Not toward a…a partner. A lover.”

His heart beat loudly in his ears. Certainly Andrew didn’t mean that. He couldn’t dare hope.

“Are we lovers, then?” he asked, his voice cautious. “Am I…do you want me back?”

Andrew leaned forward and brushed his lips against Jeremy’s, the touch feather-light. “I want you back, if you will have me.”

A smile ghosted over Jeremy’s lip. “I want that,” he said with a nod.

“It’s settled then. Now, I believe the two of us could use a very long sleep.”

***

The next few days passed in something of a blur for Andrew. He didn’t sleep much, mindful of Jeremy’s injuries. Several times during the night, he found himself staring at the sleeping boy, or bringing him laudanum. Never too much, though. Andrew had seen what hell it could cause when too much was given. And then even worse when it was taken away. He hated hearing Jeremy’s little whimpers of pain, but he would hate seeing him addicted even more.

By the third day, Jeremy was well enough to be carried downstairs to the drawing room, and they sat there, Jeremy reading, and Andrew largely staring at Jeremy. Finally, the boy closed his book, a determined look in his eye.

“If you do not find some useful occupation for yourself, I swear to you, I’m going to call for the others to take you away. May’s Buildings, Boodle’s, I don’t care where. But for the love of Christ, stop hovering.”

“Forgive me if I take an active interest in how you’re faring,” Andrew said, rolling his eyes. “Since it is my fault you sustained injury in the first place.”

Jeremy shot him a long-suffering look. “For the last time, we have discussed this. The fault was no more yours than mine, and none of us at fault more than Stanhope. Though I don’t suppose we can hold him entirely at fault,” he said. “Have you heard any more from his physician?”

“Growing steadily worse. Don’t give it any more thought, Jeremy. He made his bed, quite literally, it seems. I cannot bring myself to feel sorry for him, not after what he did to you.”

“I do wish you would try to have some compassion for him. More than likely, he wasn’t aware of his actions. Does he have any family at all? Anyone who should know about his condition?”

Andrew shook his head. “He had a wife, but she left long ago. No siblings that I know of. The closest person would be a cousin.”

“That must be sad for him, not to have anyone close to him that he could turn to.”

Andrew’s reply was cut off as the door to the drawing room opened and Thaddeus, Percy, and Oliver came through. Part of Andrew wanted to send them away immediately. He had been enjoying his time alone with Jeremy. But the look of pure joy on Jeremy’s face stopped him. Thaddeus crossed the room and wrapped his arms loosely around Jeremy’s shoulders.

“It’s good to see you up and awake, my friend,” he said.

Jeremy smiled, wincing as the movement pulled at his healing lip. “You might have come earlier, you know. I thought I was going to go mad with Andrew hovering.”

“I can’t imagine he left you alone long enough to use the privy,” he said with a grin. Thaddeus glanced at Andrew, and he nodded. Jeremy deserved to know how devoted his friends were to him.

“We would have come earlier, but we were doing a bit of running around,” Oliver said. “On the bright side, you no longer have to worry about this coming back to you. We’ve paid off Stanhope’s staff and physician, and ensured you will never even be questioned regarding your involvement.”

Thaddeus sat on the arm of the settee, idly running his fingers through Jeremy’s hair. “If anyone should ask, Stanhope—in his already weakened state—simply fell down the stairs.”

Never had Andrew appreciated his friends more than now. They had no reason to want to protect Jeremy, none at all, save for the fact that he was one of them now. He was part of their set. And Andrew knew then that they would do everything in their power to protect him, just as they protected one another. For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to breathe.

The next few hours were spent enjoying one another’s company. With every minute that passed—each game of whist, each smile that lit up Jeremy’s whole face—Andrew found himself more and more grateful. These men had seen him through hell not once, but twice. And for that he could never repay them.

When they finally packed the cards away, promising to return the next afternoon, Andrew saw them out. He let out a slow breath as they pulled the door closed behind them.

“Pleased to be alone again?” Jeremy asked from the settee.

“Perhaps a bit. It’s good of them to come, though, I will admit. You seem in a significantly better mood than when the day began.”

“You finally turned your focus on something other than my wellbeing. Of course I’m in a better mood.”

Andrew laughed and sat down in a chair close to Jeremy. When he looked over, Jeremy’s expression was curious. “What is it?” he asked.

“You asked them to cover up for me. Why would you do that?”

He blinked. “You must ask that? I did it to protect you. Yes, you acted out of self-defence, and there is no barrister in London who could sufficiently prove that you acted out of malice. You never would have been convicted of anything. However, I never wanted you to have to endure the scrutiny of a trial. You’ve already been through enough.”

Jeremy reached out and took Andrew’s hand, gripping it tightly. “Thank you. I mean that. Your friendship, your love, everything you’ve done for me has been more than I deserved. And I…I know I’ve said it before, but I need you to know just how sorry I am. I betrayed your trust, and I shouldn’t have.”

“Jeremy, no. Listen to me. Yes, you’re correct in that you shouldn’t have done that without my permission. However—wait, close your mouth—however, I went to see Percy after I threw you out. I needed another opinion on how to get you back. Suffice it to say he made me see reason. He forced me to see that I’ve been hiding more than my scars. I’ve hidden a very large part of myself simply because I’m terrified.”

With his free hand, Andrew carded through Jeremy’s hair. How had one boy—one amazing, beautiful boy—made him see what no one else had?

“I’m terrified that I will lose someone I’ve grown very close to,” he continued. “And I cannot do that. Not again. I’m quite sure it would devastate me.”

“You can’t spend your whole life being afraid that people are going to leave you. That could happen at any time. It isn’t something that can be avoided, simply by closing yourself off from feeling. At any point, one of us could die. Or you could get bored with me and decide you want something new. I could find a patron.” Andrew’s heart lurched at that possibility. “The point is, there are no certainties in life. My father lost my mother too soon. I lost my mother too soon. But I refuse to let that stop me from loving. I can’t.”

Andrew brought Jeremy’s fingers to his lips, kissing them softly. “I suppose I can’t do anything about the risk, though God knows I would love to.”

“Then we take it one day at a time. Not like before. Not assuming that something bad would happen to either one of us. But we take it one day at a time together, as lovers.”

Andrew considered this for several seconds. The thought of putting that much trust in Jeremy was terrifying. He had no idea the hold he had over Andrew, the kind of power he possessed. But Andrew wanted to trust him, and he knew that if he didn’t, he risked losing Jeremy forever. So he nodded, letting out a slow breath.

“All right. One day at a time. Together.”

“I like that plan.”

“You understand this is going to be difficult for me, right? I’m not always going to be the perfect partner,” Andrew said.

“I know. But you’re making an effort, which is all I can ask for. We’ll work through this. You have me to help you.” Jeremy paused, his teeth grazing his bottom lip. “I do have a request.”

“You need only name it.”

“I want to see it again—the scar. I want to see you. All of you. I don’t want you to have to hide that part of yourself from me.”

“No, I’m finished hiding from you,” Andrew agreed. “When you’re healed, then I’ll show you.”

The first vestiges of a plan formed in his mind. It would require courage, and no small amount of trust. But he did trust Jeremy. With his life. Leaning over, he kissed the boy’s forehead, nuzzling against him. Although he certainly didn’t know how to be a partner, with Jeremy’s help, he could almost believe he was capable of it.