May, 1822
London, England
Lord Grayson Holloway shuffled through the neat stacks of papers and files. It had to be here. On his way out of the office to see to a morning appointment, he’d asked his secretary, Edward Fenton, to retrieve the Airth file and leave it on his desk. He’d been gone for three hours. Plenty of time, even for Edward, to see to the task.
Perhaps he’d simply missed it on his first pass through the stacks on his desk. After all, files looked similar.
A second pass proved in vain.
Gray let out a sigh.
“Mr. Fenton.”
His call was greeted with silence. There was no reply, nor was there a scratch of chair legs against floorboards as Edward pushed from his desk.
Leaning to the right in his chair, Gray looked out his open door to Edward’s desk, which was in the anteroom just outside of Gray’s office.
The chair at that desk was empty.
Edward was out there. Gray had passed Edward seated at his desk when he’d returned from the appointment, and Edward never left the office without first informing him.
Rather than call for his secretary again, Gary flicked off his spectacles and stood from his chair. He stopped a pace outside of his door.
It was all Gray could do to keep the grunt of frustration from rumbling his chest.
With his back to Gray, Edward stood before Frank Wilson’s desk as he spoke to the other secretary. Gray couldn’t make out the words, just the low rumble of Edward’s voice. As per his usual, Edward was clad in a plain brown coat and trousers, which did nothing to highlight his six-foot-tall, broad-shouldered frame.
Edward’s sandy-blond head turned to the left, toward Arthur Barrington’s open office door. Somehow Edward’s profile managed to embody both strong and gentle at the same time. The straight nose, the defined jaw, the soft curves of his lips. Edward blinked, his long brown lashes briefly kissing his cheekbones.
While a part of Gray wanted to turn on his heel and forget he’d witnessed Edward staring at Barrington yet again, another part of him couldn’t help but admire the strength of Edward’s devotion, the same part that longed for that devotion to be focused on himself.
Gray gave his head a shake, throwing off the thought. If Society and the law and the church approved male matches, Barrington would be exactly the type a polite young gentleman like Edward would be expected to fall in love with—conservative, possessed of a sterling reputation, and who had never had a rumor brush by him. It wasn’t that Gray didn’t hold his own merits in high regard, but he knew how society functioned, and it was simply a fact that he wasn’t the sort who someone like Edward would ever give his heart to. So Gray shouldn’t be surprised or disgruntled or irritated over the direction of Edward’s affections.
Still, did Edward have to be so blatant? If nothing else, Barrington was taken. And it was impossible Edward hadn’t figured that out by now, given how often Barrington’s lover visited the office.
“But what about this note here?” Wilson asked in an undertone.
Gray swore he could see the reluctance as Edward pulled his attention from Barrington, who was no doubt seated behind his desk, immersed in a contract or other document. Reaching out, Edward took the proffered piece of paper from Wilson.
There was the low rumble of Edward’s voice again, the words indistinct. Whatever he said must have answered Wilson’s question, for the other secretary answered with a “Thank you.”
As Wilson stood, he looked around Edward. An ever-helpful smile curved Wilson’s mouth, his brown gaze friendly and open. A look Edward had yet to bestow on Gray, and Edward worked for him. “Is there something you need, Lord Grayson?”
The line of Edward’s shoulders tightened. A pause, then he turned to face Gray.
“Yes. The Airth file. It’s not on my desk.”
Gray caught the half-second of confusion on Edward’s handsome face before understanding dawned.
“Oh. Yes.” Edward ducked his head. “My apologies. I will get that for you immediately, your lordship.”
Holding back a sigh, Gray returned to his desk.
It had been over a month since Arthur Barrington had asked Gray to join his office. Previously, Gray had simply been one of many at a large—though prestigious—firm, and a position as partner, even at a smaller office, would put him one step closer to achieving his goal of becoming the most successful solicitor in London. At two years older than Gray’s own seven-and-twenty, Barrington was easy to work with, willing to allow Gray the freedom to see to matters as he saw fit, and though very few were aware of it, someone who shared Gray’s preference for men. An ideal situation.
Well, almost ideal.
File in hand, Edward appeared in the open doorway. He hesitated, then crossed the room, walking between the two chairs, coming just close enough to perch the file on the edge of the desk.
“The file you requested.” Head bowed, he took two quick steps back, moving to his usual position behind the chair on the left.
With a soft swoosh, the file slipped from the desk, falling to the floor.
Every muscle in Edward’s strong body tensed. With a hastily murmured, “Apologies, your lordship,” he darted from behind the chair and dropped to his knees to gather the papers.
Ah hell. While he wanted to have Edward on his knees before him, it wasn’t in this fashion. He pushed to his feet.
“I can manage it, your lordship.”
The clear thread of mortification in Edward’s voice had Gray sitting down. If Edward didn’t want his help, Gray would give him the courtesy of respecting his wishes.
A few moments later, the shuffle of papers ceased. Edward stood, set the file on the desk—though obviously careful to keep it from the edge this time—then moved back to his spot behind the chair. All the while, he kept his head bowed.
Color stained his cheekbones, his chest rising and falling quicker than normal beneath his plain cream waistcoat. “You have my apologies, your lordship, for the mishap.”
Gray waved away the need for an apology. Not wanting to dwell on the incident, he changed the subject. “I have an appointment with Mr. Spencer, the Duchess of Airth’s brother, at three o’clock. Add it to the schedule, and see him into my office as soon as he arrives.”
“Yes, Lord Grayson.” Edward shifted his weight. “Is there anything else you need?”
For you to stop cowering and to actually pay attention to me.
“Not at the moment.” Reaching across the desk, Gray picked up the file and opened it. Then he put his spectacles back on. It wouldn’t do to be unprepared for the appointment.
The hasty click of footsteps indicated Edward had jumped at the chance to leave the room.
Gray had never tried to fool himself into believing his rapid ascent in his profession was due solely to his family connections or his skill at the law. Clients hired him because they were more than slightly scared of him, and they hoped that same fear would be instilled in whoever was on the other side of a business dealing. It was the primary reason why Barrington had extended the offer of partner to him. “We have different approaches to the law. I believe you will provide a good balance to the office.” Barrington certainly wasn’t scared of him. He respected Gray.
Now if only his secretary felt the same way.
Gray took a pencil from the cup on his desk and focused on the papers before him. Yet his mind wandered back to Edward.
Why was Edward so intimidated by him? No, intimidated wasn’t the correct word. Afraid was more like it. Yes, Gray was physically a large man. At six-foot-three, he had a build more suited to hard manual labor than life behind a desk. But Edward wasn’t a slight slip of a man. Gray didn’t tower over him like some sort of giant. And he couldn’t recall ever raising his voice to Edward. He was accustomed to having secretaries be a bit on edge around him—he knew he had a well-deserved reputation for being demanding. Yet Edward…
It was as if he did everything in his power to avoid being in Gray’s presence. A rather difficult endeavor, given Edward’s position involved assisting Gray, but one Edward seemed determined to pursue. And Gray couldn’t deny it hurt just a bit every time Edward scurried away from him like he was the devil himself.
Had Edward heard the rumors surrounding Gray’s parentage? Maybe that was why Edward was so uncomfortable around him. Not at all improbable either, given Edward was from a good family. Gossip had a tendency to travel, and especially gossip from the upper echelons of Society.
Gray shook his head. It shouldn’t bother him so much. It wasn’t as if he had never been snubbed or had anyone eager to vacate his presence before. He’d endured far worse. Still, there was something about Edward that made Gray want to simultaneously protect him and paddle his arse until he was sobbing with pleasure. The problem was, though, that Edward gave Gray the distinct impression he wanted to be protected from Gray.
A sigh whooshed from his chest. He flipped the page on the marriage contract, the various clauses cataloging themselves into his brain with little effort. He’d been keeping his distance, giving Edward time to get over the fact Barrington had given him to Gray and to grow accustomed to working for him. But waiting for Edward to settle in hadn’t yielded the hoped-for results. The maudlin had thankfully slipped away, but if anything, Edward had grown more nervous around him over the past month.
Perhaps Gray needed a different approach. When a case proved troublesome, he didn’t keep forging ahead on the same path. He changed tactics.
In fact…he should do the exact opposite of waiting—he should pull Edward closer.
A smile flitted across his lips. He nodded once. Yes indeed, he would force Edward to spend time with him.
Satisfied he’d devised an improved tactic for the Edward situation, he turned his full attention to the document on his desk.
* * *
The scratch of his pen against paper filled Edward’s ears. Once a document was finalized, a copy needed to be made so both the office and the client could each have one. A dull, monotonous task, especially given Lord Grayson’s contracts tended to be many-paged, complex beasts.
Edward dipped his pen in the inkwell for what felt like the hundredth time and continued on. There was nothing to be done for it. Lord Grayson had asked him to see to the task yesterday, and Edward did not want to disappoint him. Again. He’d already disappointed Lord Grayson once today, and he had made an arse of himself in the process. He couldn’t forget that fresh humiliation. If he could get the Hensen contract done and filed, then perhaps his lordship wouldn’t notice it hadn’t been completed when requested.
Who was he fooling? Lord Grayson would notice. He always did when it involved something Edward had done incorrectly or forgotten to do or had not finished on time.
It was a wonder Lord Grayson hadn’t sacked him yet. The man didn’t care for him, and really, Edward had given him no reason to. Mr. Barrington obviously did not care for him either, for he’d kept Wilson and given Edward to Lord Grayson. That had stung. Granted, Wilson had been Mr. Barrington’s secretary before Edward had been hired on as a second, and there had been a time or two or three when Edward had forgotten to see to something or hadn’t done something correctly. But Edward hadn’t thought he’d done that poor of a job for him. He must have, though.
Edward kept the sigh from leaving his lungs. If he was sacked, his father would be so disappointed. The only reason he had his current position was because his father had nudged Mr. Barrington to hire him on. As a younger son, Edward wasn’t expected to make a great match to advance his family socially. He was to become a competent solicitor, make a decent match, and not cause his family any embarrassment that could interfere with his father’s plans for his older brothers and his sisters to make splendid matches. That was to be his life. About as dull and tedious as the document before him.
But he wanted more. So much more. Wanted to choose his own profession, to not be bound by the strictures of polite society, to give into those cravings lodged deep within. And it would be especially nice if someday someone would smile on him the same way Mr. Barrington smiled upon his lover, Mr. Thornton.
Edward gave his head a resigned shake. Fanciful notions indeed.
With a crisp snick, the door to Lord Grayson’s office opened. A thread of tension wound through Edward’s body. Oh hell, he’d see he hadn’t completed the task and then—
Mr. Spencer strode out of the office. Alone. The click as he closed the main door behind him echoed in the anteroom. Edward’s attention snapped to the door of Lord Grayson’s office. Mr. Spencer had left it open. Edward preferred it closed—then he wouldn’t hear his lordship moving around in there. Wouldn’t have those reminders that Lord Grayson was mere steps away from him.
“Mr. Fenton,” came Lord Grayson’s deep voice. It was as if Edward could hear the words scraping across gravel when he spoke.
A little shiver passed through Edward.
He took a deep breath in an effort to calm his pulse, then stood and heeded his employer’s call.
Lord Grayson sat behind his desk, wide shoulders obscuring the back of his leather chair, his presence seeming to take up the entire room. And the man was wearing his spectacles. What was it about the contrast of those harsh, masculine features and the delicate, thin wire frames that went straight to Edward’s cock?
Dropping his gaze to the floorboards, Edward crossed the room. But not looking didn’t help in the slightest. The image was branded into his brain—silver spectacles perched on a crooked nose. A nose likely broken from one too many bouts at Gentleman Jackson’s. Or maybe Lord Grayson had fought in a prizefight. Edward wouldn’t put it past the man. Bared to the waist, sweat glistening on his chest, hands clenched in fists, biceps bulging as he felled his opponent…
Edward stopped behind one of the chairs in front of his lordship’s desk. “You called?”
“Are you occupied at the moment?”
The question took Edward aback. “I am making a copy of the Hensen contract for the office. Almost finished with it.” Not exactly the truth, but he didn’t want to give Lord Grayson another reason to scowl at him. He’d probably still scowl at him. Edward should have finished it yesterday. But it had taken longer to help Wilson than anticipated and—
“It can wait. I would like you to assist me with the Duchess of Airth’s file. Have a seat, please.”
Please? He couldn’t recall ever hearing that word from Lord Grayson before. “I should get my ledger. For taking notes,” he added.
“No need. I have a spare one you can use.” There was the soft glide of a drawer opening. “Here.”
With no other option before him, Edward took the proffered ledger and sat in the chair as requested.
Lord Grayson motioned to the silver cup of pencils on the desk. “Can’t very well write without a pencil.”
Leaning forward, Edward selected one from the bunch. The tip was worn a bit, indicating Lord Grayson’s strong hand had once been wrapped around this very pencil. “Thank you.” Head bowed, he balanced the open ledger on his lap, pencil at the ready, and waited for Lord Grayson to proceed.
There was a creak of leather and wood, a shuffle of papers. Edward glanced up to see Lord Grayson moving a stack of papers to the opposite side of the desk.
“No need to write on your lap. Move closer. Use the desk.” Lord Grayson indicated the space he’d cleared.
Closer? Steeling himself, he gathered the ledger and pencil in one hand. Then half-standing from the chair, he scooted the chair forward. The scrape of chair legs against floorboards ricocheted off the wood-paneled walls. Edward winced. “Apologies,” he murmured, as he settled into the requested space.
“Are you familiar with the duchess’s file?”
That gravelly voice washed over him. Edward shook his head. If he just kept his eyes on the ledger, maybe he wouldn’t embarrass himself. “Her Grace is a new client. You haven’t asked for any changes to documents yet.”
“The file contains the original marriage contract and the late duke’s will, which is clear in regards to his wishes. Still, his heir is contesting the will on the grounds that the late duke was not of sound mind, that he was being manipulated by his wife, when the document was revised. Complete rubbish. Randall, though I should refer to him as Airth as he now holds the title, is in a snit because the late duke—his uncle—bequeathed everything not tied directly to the title to his wife, which primarily encompasses the contents of a bank account. A very large bank account. In short, Randall wants that account. This office has been retained to ensure Randall does not succeed.”
“Why did Her Grace choose you?” The question was out of his mouth before he could stop it. “That’s not to imply she chose poorly. Your reputation for success is well known,” Edward rushed to add. Damnation, he’d surely just caused Lord Grayson to scowl at him again. If he didn’t look up, then at least he wouldn’t have to witness it. Staring at the worn tip of his pencil, poised over the paper, he tried to explain why he had asked such an impertinent question. “But why doesn’t she use the same office that managed the late duke’s affairs? They handled the will and would know it best.”
To his relief, Lord Grayson didn’t sound annoyed when he replied, “Valid question. Because they are Randall’s solicitors, as well. And because her brother is an astute man who is aware most other competent offices would politely decline such a matter.”
“Why?”
“She is a woman. Randall is now the duke. There wouldn’t be a chance in the future to acquire any of his business if they so boldly went against him now.”
“Yet you took on the case.”
“Because it is the right thing to do. She needs our help.”
That took Edward aback. Not the words so much, but the sincerity in Lord Grayson’s tone. His employer truly believed in the work he was doing, regardless if it would impact the office’s chance of adding another duke to its client list in the future. He had heard of Lord Grayson before his lordship had joined Mr. Barrington’s office. Ruthless. Determined. A man not to cross. The past month in his employ had done nothing to disabuse those notions. Yet perhaps he didn’t have a soul forged from ice.
“Our job, therefore,” Lord Grayson continued, “is to ensure Airth’s will is not ripped to shreds to appease Randall’s greed.”
“How are you to do that?”
“I have some ideas.”
Edward waited. Silence filled the room. Apparently Lord Grayson did not wish to share any of those ideas. Instead of asking him to elaborate on the subject, Edward asked, “Are you certain Randall’s claims are complete rubbish, as you put it?”
“I was acquainted with the late duke—our families move in the same social circles. Airth knew his own mind. He was fond of his wife and clearly wanted to provide for her in his death, as she is not a wealthy woman in her own right. I met with her this morning. She doesn’t have an ounce of greed in her body, and though she is many years his junior, she loved him. I suspect, as well, that Airth knew Randall is a frivolous sort. By not giving Randall the bank account, it would force Randall to focus on the dukedom in order to have sufficient funds to support the estate.”
“Can you prove any of that?” Edward asked, as he made a few notes in the ledger.
“I believe so, and my aim is to not get into a prolonged and costly battle with Randall to do so.”
But how? Before he could voice the question, there was the distinct creak of leather and wooden joints as Lord Grayson stood from his chair. Footsteps echoed about the office. The scent of Lord Grayson’s shaving soap reached Edward’s nose. Sandalwood with a hint of lemon. A fresh frisson of lust raced through him. Lord Grayson stood right beside him—he knew it without even looking. All of that muscle, that determination, mere inches from himself. Edward kept his gaze pinned on the ledger before him. It took all of the effort within him to keep his breaths slow and even.
“You attended Cambridge. Studied the law.”
Edward nodded once.
“Your assignment is to review the file and report back to me on how you would move forward with the case.”
Pardon? Edward snapped his attention up to Lord Grayson. “But you’ve already decided how to do that.”
His lordship tipped his head. “I want your opinion, as well.”
He wanted Edward’s opinion? “Oh.” And he should not have looked to Lord Grayson. The man’s cock wasn’t much more than a foot from Edward’s mouth. Fine black wool draped the not-insubstantial bulge. He’d wager everything he owned the man was quite impressive when fully erect.
“You want to be a solicitor yourself one day, correct?” Lord Grayson asked.
That statement wasn’t entirely accurate, but Edward nodded all the same. Oh hell, his prick was growing hard. Shifting in the chair, he tried to conceal it without being obvious. Why had Lord Grayson had to ask him to use his desk? Now he couldn’t use the ledger to cover his ridiculous state. Should he casually move the ledger to his lap, or would that draw Lord Grayson’s attention?
He needed to get out of this office before Lord Grayson noticed the stiffening cock that was surely beginning to tent Edward’s trousers by now. But he was stuck there, stuck in this chair, until his employer dismissed him.
“Then this will be good practice for you.”
“Do you have an erection, Mr. Fenton?” His lordship’s voice sounded in Edward’s head.
“Yes, Lord Grayson.” A rush of pure, wicked embarrassment swept through him. It was all Edward could do to bite back the groan of lust.
“You will need this then.”
The file entered his peripheral vision. With a nod, Edward took the file while trying not to let his gaze linger on his employer’s groin.
What would Lord Grayson do if Edward begged to suck him off?
Promptly dismiss him, that was for certain. And Edward would be lucky if that was all Lord Grayson did to him. He wouldn’t put it past his lordship to drag him to Newgate himself, file charges against him for being a sodomite.
He really needed to get out of this office.
His pulse pounded through his veins. “Will that be all, your lordship?” Edward asked, praying he didn’t sound as breathless and nervous as he felt.
A pause. “Yes.”
Keeping his gaze downcast, Edward stood. He made to turn to leave.
“The ledger. You might need your notes.”
He could feel the fabric of his trousers stretched across the hard arch of his erection. Please, don’t notice. Please, don’t notice. “Ah, yes, of course,” Edward mumbled, taking the proffered ledger.
A furrow crossed Lord Grayson’s brow. Had he noticed?
Oh hell and damnation. Edward’s ballocks drew up tight to his body. Snapping his attention to his shoes, he began counting the turns of the laces.
“Tomorrow afternoon, I want to hear your thoughts thus far on the file.”
Edward nodded.
“And, Mr. Fenton?”
He swore his heart stopped as dread slammed into him. Lord Grayson had noticed. He’d noticed, and now…
Don’t be a coward.
Marshalling his resolve, he looked up to Lord Grayson, looked into his light-brown eyes. Amber—that was the correct name for the color. Brown and gold mixed together in perfect, equal measure. And why was he thinking about the color of Lord Grayson’s eyes right before the man sacked him?
“Finish with the Hensen copy before you leave today.”
Edward blinked. Those were not the words he’d been expecting. “Yes, your lordship. My apologies for the delay.”
And there was that scowl once again.
Perhaps he hadn’t noticed.
Whatever the case, Edward wasn’t about to remain in the office a moment longer. File and ledger clutched to his chest, he grabbed the opportunity and turned from the chair, forcing his strides to remain at a walk.