Regency Relations Part 7 (of 8)

This is a story in eight parts, published in two parts per issue.

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Part 7

The Earl woke suddenly, his heart pounding. It had been a dream, that was all. Yet it had seemed so real: the Duke and he in the gardens, their kiss holding and deepening until hands searched frantically for one another, tearing open clothing that was in the way until finally they were pressed skin to warm skin. Iphicles' cock had been hard and desperate as he felt the full hot flesh pushing eagerly against his, and he had moaned into the Duke's mouth, rubbing himself frantically against the Duke's hardness until he whimpered and his seed spattered Aresborough's skin.

The Duke had finally released his mouth, allowing him to slide down until he was on his knees, eagerly taking the Duke's thick cock into his mouth. He used every refinement of the skill that he had learned from Aresborough, intent only on the Duke's pleasure, until Aresborough's head went back and he groaned as he shuddered and came into Iphicles' mouth. The Earl had released him afterwards, to rest his head against the Duke's hip, one hand lightly tracing a muscled thigh through the soft material of the Duke's breeches.

"I love you, Aresborough," he had whispered.

The Earl's eyes closed as he tried desperately to dispel the recollection of the Duke's mocking laughter at his declaration. Turning abruptly in his bed, he tried to leave the memory behind him, only to encounter damp evidence that his release had not been only in his dream. He turned sharply back the other way, hauling the covers up over himself, desperate to forget.

Iphicles returned from his customary ride in the Park later that morning, and found Harry alone in the Drawing Room, the scattered pile of cards and invitations beside him on the sofa evidence that the Dowager had enlisted his help in identifying suitable functions at which he might spend his last few evenings of leave. It had become their daily ritual, and was one with which Iphicles found no fault, meaning as it did that he did not have to sort through a mound of billets in order to find the bills.

Harry rose swiftly to his feet at his brother's entrance, his hand tightening angrily to crush the billet in his hand as he glared at the Earl.

"Devil take it, Iph," he accused furiously, "What madness has got into you?"

Iphicles paused momentarily as the door closed behind him, wondering quite what it was that his brother referred to now.

"You may care nothing for your own name, but to introduce a man of such reputation to Mama goes beyond anything!"

Sudden guilt made Iphicles defensive. "I did not introduce them!" he threw back. "God above, Harry, do you really think I would do such a thing?"

Harry's blue eyes were stormy. "Frankly, Iph," he confessed, an edge to his voice, "I find I no longer have a notion what you will do next, only that the consequences will be damned unpleasant for your family."

Iphicles teeth were gritted. "Aresborough will not bother Mama again. I have made sure of that."

He turned to leave.

Harry snorted. "If not for you, she would not have been subjected to his attentions to begin with."

Iphicles swung back on his brother. "Stow it, Harry," he flashed. Breathing heavily he determinedly reined in his temper. "He did not go beyond the line with her, as well you know," he pointed out abruptly, "and it would have been peculiar behaviour in her indeed to cut one of her son's acquaintances. I have made sure that it will not happen again. You have said more than enough on this matter."

The Captain stepped forward, shoulders squared. "It seems to me I have not said enough. Damn it Iph, you told me that you would have nothing more to do with him, yet not only do you arrange this assignation but you must needs drag Mama into it."

His jaw dropping, Iphicles stared at his brother. "I suggest you return to whatever asylum is currently missing an inmate," he said at last. "Last night's meeting was coincidence, no more."

A harsh laugh escaped Harry. "Why else would he approach Mama if not to speak to you, Iph? Do you think me a half-wit?"

"Frankly, Harry, I do."

As the Captain's brow darkened still further, Iphicles turned and walked out, nodding curtly to Iorweth as they passed in the hallway. It was only the knowledge that his mother was in the house that had prevented the Earl from delivering some unpalatable home-truths to his brother.

He did not see Harry again that day, nor the next. The gallant Captain was engaged elsewhere, and Iphicles could not but welcome the fact. The worst of it was that Harry had been justified in his anger with his brother; were it not for Iphicles' friendship with Aresborough, his mama would never have been placed in such a position. The galling knowledge that he had given Harry something else with which he might legitimately reproach his older brother did not help to reanimate any feelings of fraternal amity within the Earl's breast.

Iphicles was relived to find the following night that he was dining alone. His mama and Harry and Iorweth were gone somewhere; he had lost track of which particular event it was that enjoyed their presence tonight. He sat at the dining table long after the covers had been cleared, steadily making his way through the port. He was reluctant to move, for to move would be to go to yet another empty room, where there was nothing to be done and nobody to talk to. The possibility of going out for the evening had fleetingly occurred to him, but had been as swiftly discarded. He no longer wished to pass his time in the company of those who, however briefly, had revealed to him their true colours.

Sitting in the brightly lit room, the abundance of candles somehow emphasising its emptiness, he tried not to make the mental comparison between this and the dinner times at the Duke's country seat where the company had been relaxed and the after dinner conversation when the port did the rounds usually became riotous. Those times when he had stayed, that was; there were several occasions when he and Aresborough had left early to be by themselves.

Damnation, why had he allowed himself to remember that now? He ignored the beginnings of desire, as he had managed to do ever since returning to London, and poured himself another glass of port, vaguely surprised to see how far the level in the decanter had lowered, desperately tearing his thoughts away from the memories of the Duke's velvet mouth moving over his skin. Surely those long nights together must have meant something to the man…

What if they had, and Iphicles had somehow hastened to a wrongful conclusion about the Duke's motives, misled by Harry's dislike of the man? Although, the Earl hesitated, if that were the case, why had not the Duke defended himself against Iphicles' accusations at Vauxhall? Because what he had said was true, he surmised cynically. He splashed more port into his glass, his slightly unsteady hand causing crimson drops to spoil the purity of the white linen cloth, and swiftly downed the wine, as swiftly refilling his glass from the depleted decanter. Or perhaps it had been that the Duke had been too angry for words at the Earl's wild allegations. For the first time he regretted the darkness of their encounter, which had prevented him from seeing the man's face clearly. His eyes closed briefly as he considered the dreadful possibility that he had wronged the Duke.

Yet whatever Aresborough's motives had been in seeking him at Vauxhall did not change the fact of his behaviour when Iphicles had been called home by Harry. There he hesitated again. The Duke knew now that the Dowager had not been unwell. If nothing else, Iphicles owed the man an apology for Harry's clumsy subterfuge. He turned the glass slowly in his hand, watching the way the ruby liquid reflected the brilliant candlelight and realised that he also needed the Duke to know that he had not been party to his brother's games. Tossing off the remains of the port, he got determinedly to his feet.

The Earl took a hackney to the Duke's residence. He would not call for his carriage and have the entire household know of his destination, and when he began to walk, he found that his gait was not entirely steady. He stumbled out at the end of his journey, and made his way determinedly up the steps to the Duke's town house. The front door opened almost before he had finished beating an uneven tattoo on it.

He unceremoniously pushed past the footman. "Where is he?"

The man scrambled backwards in an attempt to block the inebriated Earl's way. "His Grace is not receiving visitors, sir," he said.

Iphicles' head cocked; he had heard a familiar voice. "The devil he isn't," he returned and strode to the door from behind which he had heard the sound. It was slightly ajar, and so he pushed it further open to stand in the doorway, unnoticed by those in the room. The Duke was seated in a chair with Ogborne knelt between his open legs, Aresborough's hands wrapped relentlessly in his blond hair as he pushed the man's head down on his cock. Iphicles stood unmoving, seeing the way Aresborough's head fell back against the chair, his eyes lidding as Ogborne's head moved up and down on him, deeper and faster, until the Duke was groaning, just as he had groaned for Iphicles.

Iphicles stumbled away towards the front door, pushing blindly past the footmen who had been summoned as reinforcements to expel the intruder. He got out onto the street and around the corner, out of sight, before he stopped and clung to the nearest set of railings, his breathing ragged as he convulsively clutched at the metal and tried desperately to deny what he had seen.

Sickened, he finally moved on, not wanting anybody to see him here, to know what a pathetic fool he had been. He walked for miles, no idea in his head of where he was going, knowingly only that he had to keep walking in order to stop himself thinking.

Not thinking slowly became increasingly difficult, and he impulsively hailed a passing hackney, demanding to be taken to the nearest drinking shop. The jarvey demurred briefly, looking at the finely-dressed gentleman so obviously out of his way in this part of London, but a few choice phrases from the Earl made him shrug and do as he was bidden. He left the Earl in Tothill Fields, a haunt of some of the more adventurous young bloods who, in a search for excitement sadly lacking in the staid parties of the ton, patronised insalubrious establishments peopled by those who might not be counted among the most wholesome of the capital's population. Iphicles had never before been anywhere like this, but he barely noticed the grim exterior of the place; paying off the jarvey he strode inside, checking for an instant at the atmosphere thick with the emissions from countless clay pipes, before demanding whatever was their strongest drink.

It was some considerable time before anything disturbed the Earl in his estimable aim of drinking himself unconscious. He had set himself with gusto to the task of forgetting his reasons for being here; forgetting, indeed, most everything. He had not once considered how he might find his way home again from wherever here might be.

"Royston! What the devil are you doing here?"

He slowly looked up from his fierce concentration on his drink to find Asbury standing there, looking decidedly odd. Pleased to see a friend, he blinked, trying to work out what was different about the man before his brain gave up the unequal struggle.

"Drinking," he explained, taking an illustrative gulp before pushing his beaker in the Viscount's general direction. "Want one? S'good stuff."

Asbury picked it up and sniffed, recoiling suddenly. "God man, that stuff will send you blind if you put it away like that without being used to it."

"Used to it," Iphicles responded smugly. "Been drinking it f'r hours. Blue Ruin, tha's it."

Asbury was suddenly wrestling him to his feet. "If that's Blue Ruin, I'm a parson's aunt. Bad brandy, that's what that is. Come on, I'm getting you out of here. How in hell did you come to be here anyway?"

"Hackney," Iphicles helpfully supplied.

He didn't resist as Asbury moved him towards the door and out into the street, although he did offer the observation, "Only jus' 'rived - can't wanna leave."

"I'm getting you out of here. Look at you, man, it's a wonder you didn't have your throat slit for that diamond in your cravat."

Iphicles looked down at himself before turning his eyes back on Asbury, who was dressed anonymously, a kerchief rather than a cravat around his neck, and boots which lacked their usual high polish. That's what was different about him, he realised. "Look better'n you."

"Yes, and that's the whole point. Who in God's name pointed you to such a place on your own?"

He was pulling the Earl onwards, regardless of the difficulty Iphicles was having in negotiating the uneven cobblestones underfoot.

"Don't need pointing," Iphicles informed him pugnaciously. "Do what I want."

"Yes, and don't we know it. God, I don't recall when I last saw Aresborough in such a taking as when you left. He was not best pleased."

Iphicles knew a stab of satisfaction. "Spoiled his game."

"I don't know about that," Asbury returned, "You certainly spoiled his temper. It got so we were all ready to return to town long before he was."

Iphicles had pursued his own train of thought. "Bastard."

"You'll thank me in the morning," his companion assured him. "Come on, I'm finding you a hackney and sending you home."

"Not you. Him. Bastard's fucking Ogborne. Saw 'em."

"Is he?" Asbury responded without interest. "Well, he's had everyone else over the past week; no doubt he's started at the beginning again."

The Earl lurched suddenly as Asbury let go of him to signal to a hackney, which stopped.

He helped Iphicles up into the carriage, ignoring the jarvey's protest that the gentleman looked as though he was about to cast up his accounts.

"There you go, Royston," he said, assisting the unsteady Earl to sit upright. "I hope to God you remember where you live because I haven't got a clue, and I have to go back to meet Appleton."

Iphicles blinked up at him. "Like you, Asbury, even if y'are interfering nuisance."

Asbury stood looking at the Earl for a moment. "Oddly enough, Royston, I return your regard. Call on me when you're recovered - if you remember a word of this conversation, that is."

He closed the door on Iphicles and instructed the driver to take his passenger towards a more godly area of the capital.

Iphicles remembered nothing of getting out of the hackney, just that suddenly the world was spinning around him and he was bending over, a burning stream through his throat and mouth as his stomach voided itself, sourly wrenching even when there was nothing more to follow. Finally it stopped. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Iphicles staggered on, the flagstones under his feet damnably uneven, until all of a sudden the pavement was cool beneath his cheek. He was suddenly reluctant to move. To do so would be to cause everything to start spinning again. No, better to lie here and sleep.

Voices, someone shaking him. "Royston, for God's sake, man."

Blurred faces looking down at him, then he was being pulled up, his arms put around people's necks as he tried to support his own weight with his legs, but they would not work properly. That was the last he remembered.

He awoke slowly the next morning to a pounding in his skull and a stirring in his stomach. Opening his eyes, he saw the empty bowl placed beside him on the bed and leaned over just in time before his stomach expelled its meagre contents. He lay back, shivering, his arm flung across his eyes.

It was some time later, after his stomach had rebelled again, that there was the sound of curtains being drawn and a familiar voice. "Drink this."

His eyes opened a painful amount against the light, and he could see Sir John thrusting a glass at him. Carefully propping himself up, he waited for the expected wave of nausea. Knowing a sense of relief when it didn't come, he clumsily reached for the glass of water. He drank it all and handed the empty glass back to Sir John, slowly letting himself back down against the pillows.

The man put it to one side and stood looking down at him, his arms crossed disapprovingly.

"Tell me, Royston, have I been deceived in your character all these years?" His eyes betrayed his distaste as he looked at Iphicles. "I thought you the epitome of responsibility, yet first you go to stay with Aresborough, and I have heard more than I wish to about your behaviour while you did so, and then Lionel and I find you rolling in the gutter, drunker than a brewer's cat. Certainly in too reprehensible a condition to be taken to your home where your mother would hear of it." He shook his head slightly. "God knows we all dip too deep sometimes, but not drink ourselves to oblivion. How did you end up like that?"

Iphicles' eyes closed. He could not remember how he got there, just the reason for it, which he emphatically wished he could forget. And he really was not in a state to deal with lectures. God, his head hurt.

"Is this behaviour I am to expect regularly from my son-in-law?" Sir John pursued mercilessly.

He turned his head away. "No."

There was a pause, then the bed dipped and creaked as Sir John sat down on the edge of it. "I thought I was not wrong in my reading of you. And you certainly seemed to find no pleasure in it last night. Mind telling me why you did it?"

The sudden sympathy in his voice was too much for the Earl in his weakened condition. He shook his head slightly, keeping his face averted.

"Very well." Sir John hesitated slightly. "If I can be of help, Royston, let me know."

He got up and quietly left the room, leaving the Earl to his humiliating reflections. He did not deserve the man's sympathy. The stupidity of his port-driven imaginings left him mortified; how could he have been feeble-minded enough to believe even for a minute that the Duke had not been using him? God, the thought of going around to the Duke's like some moon-struck idiot was enough to make his stomach turn even without the brandy. His only hope was the possibility that the Duke's footmen did not know the identity of the intruder. And that Asbury kept his mouth shut. Iphicles all but moaned at the memory of their conversation, informing the man that he had gone to Aresborough's. Compared to that humiliation, the possibility of his drunken stupor being witnessed by various members of the ton paled into insignificance. After all, it was no more than they had come to expect from him. At least it might keep some of the matchmaking mamas from his back for a while.

He lay there for a while longer, before the foul taste in his mouth drove him to brave the soreness in his head long enough to get to his feet and rinse out his mouth. He was too ashamed to hold his own bloodshot gaze in the looking glass for long; all he could think was how desperately he needed to return to the country, where he would never again run the risk of seeing the Duke.

The Earl spent most of the day at Sir John's, slowly recovering from the worst effects of his over-indulgence. Sir John had sent word to the Dowager that Iphicles had stayed with him last night, leaving her to draw the inference that they had made a pretty batch of it together. Both men knew they would have to endure a little fond scolding about the bad habits of the male sex, but it was infinitely better than Alicia finding out the truth. Yet again Iphicles stood in Sir John's debt.

He acknowledged as much when he came to take his leave.

"It's not that I mind, Royston," Sir John informed him with disconcerting frankness. "More that I am worried about what has caused your unpredictable behaviour of late."

Flushing slightly, Iphicles gave no answer save to thank the man again, and returned home. There he was informed by Brownlow, who yet again showed his worth by appearing not to notice the state of the pale and unshaven Earl, that a visitor had called for him once this morning and twice this afternoon, appearing most desirous of speaking to the Earl. Iphicles took the card that had been left, and the remaining blood left his face when he saw the Duke's name on it. Automatically he thanked Brownlow, before instructing him that he was still not at home to visitors and retiring to his room to wash and change.

Once there he took great care over shredding the card into as many small pieces as he could manage, desperately wishing he could do the same to himself. It seemed the Duke knew of his visitor yesterday; he must now believe that he still exercised the same power over the Earl as he once had and intended to put that to use again. Either that, or the man simply wished to crow. With a groan, Iphicles bent forward over the bowl and emptied the jug of water over his still-aching head. God, what a damned idiot he'd been. He flicked back his wet hair, the resulting rivulets of water dampening his shirt, causing the fine cotton to cling transparently to his skin as his course of action became suddenly clear.

Despite the reluctance evinced by his stomach at the thought, Iphicles joined his family for dinner. His mind was made up and he wished to waste no time in informing his mother of his decision.

"I am sure Sir John will be delighted to accompany you, Mama, when you wish to join me," he reassured the Dowager who was looking decidedly pettish at the news he had broken. "He is of course welcome to stay at Royston for as long as he wishes."

"I think it a capital idea," Harry struck in. "By going ahead, Iph can make sure that all is ready to receive you and Sir John."

Alicia turned injured eyes on him at his betrayal. "But Harry, nobody goes to the country at this time of year."

Harry smiled at her. "True, Mama, but just think - you will be setting a trend. And I do think it a good idea to have something else to do once Iorweth and I are gone. If you stayed here, you would no doubt be moped."

The Dowager sighed at the reminder of her son's departure. "No doubt you are right," she confessed in a small voice, toying with the calf's foot jelly on the plate before her as though her appetite had quite deserted her.

Iphicles finally knew a sense of contentment. He had arrived late yesterday afternoon to a genuinely warm welcome from his housekeeper, Mrs Thornton, and had almost instantly felt his heart begin to ease. A good night's sleep, a morning spent listening to the happenings in the lives of the principal figures in his household, a brief update from his bailiff, and now the delight of a good horse under him on a summer's afternoon on his own estate filled him with peace.

The larks singing overhead, the soft thud of the horse's hooves, the slight creak of the saddle, and the smell of summer grass were all things he associated intimately with Royston. He smiled as he passed by the climbing tree on which he and Harry had played so often, remembering when they had defended it tooth and nail from their cousins on their one and only visit to Royston. The older boy, George, had given Harry such a pasting one day that Alicia had declared the boy must be removed from her house at once. They had not returned.

He paused at the crest of the hill and sat looking down on Royston. As had been the intention of the genius who had created the gardens, the long ride drew an observer's eye irresistibly to Royston House. Designed by a well-known disciple of the Palladian style, its symmetry and proportion were exquisite, while its light stone seemed to shine in the sun. This westerly approach was one which suited Iphicles better than the conventional southern one; he loved his home in every season, every aspect, but the openness of this countryside appealed to him more than did the formal gardens, even though every care had been taken to ensure they reflected nature.

His horse began to fidget at the enforced inactivity, and Iphicles dismounted. He loosened his horse's girth, unfastened the reins from one side of the bit to give the animal length enough to graze without troubling him, and sat down, his back propped against the sun-warmed stone of the obelisk behind him, memorial to some long-dead Earl. Settling himself more comfortably, he laid his head back against the rock, looking down on his home, feeling the sunshine warming him through his clothes. The drowsy humming of the bees, the horse cropping the short turf, its tail whisking occasionally to keep the flies away, and his own deep breathing were the only sounds in the world.

Soft whickers brought him awake some time later, and he opened his eyes to find his horse's head was up, its ears enquiringly pricked. He twisted his head round to follow the direction of the animal's concentration, and found a figure seated on a dark horse a few yards away, sitting still and simply watching him.

For an instant, he thought he must still be dreaming, but then the man swung off his horse, leaving it to wander freely and approached Iphicles. He stopped close to the Earl, one polished boot propped on the lowest level of the monument's base, an arm resting on his muscular thigh as he leaned forward and regarded Iphicles.

The Earl got slowly to his feet.

"What in hell's name are you doing here?" He was furious to hear that his voice shook with the shock of this unexpected visitation.

The Duke's eyes gleamed momentarily as he straightened. "Don't get up on my account, Iphicles, please. You cannot know what a charming picture you make, nestled against mother earth, your limbs sprawled in so artless and inviting a way, your eyes closed peacefully and your lips very slightly apart as you breathe softly. Quite charmingly pastoral. All that is missing is your herd of cattle to drive and the haystalk in your mouth. "

"What the devil do you want, Aresborough?" He would not let the man see how his sudden appearance had caught him off-balance, though his knuckles were white around his reins.

Aresborough's expression was watchful as his eyes dwelt reflectively on the Earl's face. "I consider that to be a most grudging welcome considering the length of journey that has been mine to visit you here, not to mention the means I have had to employ to ascertain the path you took on your ride this afternoon. Are you not going to profess yourself pleased to see me?"

"Understand this, Aresborough, I made an error of judgement once; it does not give you the right to hound me ever after." Iphicles glared into the dark eyes, so unreadable on his. "Move on to your next victim; you will gain nothing more from me."

He was aware that his breath was coming swiftly, but he refused to be the first to look away.

"If that is how you feel, Iphicles, why did you visit me not three nights since?" The smooth voice for once held no mockery; in fact, it held no discernible emotion at all.

Iphicles hesitated for a brief instant. "To offer you my apologies for my brother's behaviour. That is all."

One dark eyebrow raised slightly. "For which aspect of his behaviour in particular? His very existence demands apology, though I do not think that you may properly be held accountable for that."

Suppressing his sudden urge to agree with the Duke, Iphicles merely said stiffly, "I refer to his machinations in bringing me back to London."

"I see." Dark eyes watched him, intent. "There was no other reason for your visit?"

Iphicles gave a crack of jeering laughter. "Given how I found you, Aresborough, with your cock buried deep in the mouth of one of your tame pets, why should you think there might be another reason?"

The Duke's gaze dropped suddenly and his lips twisted. "Why indeed?"

Iphicles turned to his horse and began to tighten the animal's girth. "There is a passable inn not ten miles from here," he said offhandedly. "You have plenty of time to reach it before sunset. Moreover it lies on the road back to London so you will have a good start on your journey tomorrow morning."

He was unprepared for the Duke's reaction. A hand fiercely gripped his shoulder and pulled him round.

Aresborough's dark face was almost unrecognisable, filled with fury. "We finish this now," he snarled. "Speak plainly, Iphicles - why did you come to my house?"

Anger surged in the Earl's breast, rising to meet the Duke's own temper. "To see if I had wronged you in my opinion of your character," he spat, his lip curling in disgust as he remembered the sight that had greeted him. "Evidently I had not."

The Duke released him abruptly. Iphicles glared at him for a moment longer, before turning back to his horse to refasten its reins.

"I had thought you were not coming." Aresborough's voice was low.

Iphicles spun round, his brow furrowed with impatient question. He wanted it over, done, to recover the sense of peace that had been his such a short while before, yet the Duke's unusual hesitancy caught his attention and stayed his tongue.

Aresborough met Iphicles' eyes briefly, and the Earl's gaze narrowed as he saw Aresborough's uncharacteristic defensiveness. Then he realised; this was yet another ploy, one which he had not previously encountered, to be sure, but it was just another of the Duke's games.

"Why should you have expected me?" he flicked contemptuously at Aresborough. "I had already told you I wanted nothing more to do with you."

Anger flickered in Aresborough's eyes at Iphicles' tone, and when he spoke, his voice was harsh. "You did not come in answer?"

"In answer?" Iphicles repeated, angry and confused. "I don't understand you."

The Duke made an impatient gesture. "That damned letter."

As he took in Iphicles' stare, his mouth twisted in a sneer. "No matter," he dismissed abruptly. "I will leave you to your respectable life, Iphicles. I shall not bother you again."

He turned away and strode towards his black horse, which was tearing hungrily at the grass, one foot through its reins.

"Aresborough?"

When there was no response, Iphicles led his horse after the Duke.

"Aresborough."

"What?" the Duke snapped out, swinging round to face him.

Iphicles shrugged slightly. "I don't know what you mean. What letter?"

The Duke's eyes were hard as they quartered his face suspiciously. "Do not presume too far, Royston. Whatever maudlin thoughts I may inadvisedly have committed to paper were due simply to an excess of brandy. Do not think to hear me repeat them."

"Aresborough, I do not know to what you refer. I have received no letter from you."

The Duke's jaw tightened before he spoke. "My man delivered a letter to you, the morning after our meeting at Vauxhall." His tone was sceptical. "Do you try to tell me you did not receive it?"

Iphicles shook his head, helplessly. "I have had no letter from you, Aresborough. What did it say?"

Aresborough's eyes were hard still. "It was delivered to your house. Do not play me for a fool, Royston."

Confused, Iphicles cast his mind back. He had received nothing other than endless invitations from Jack Holloway, and bills; any invitations except to him privately had been seized upon long before the post had ever reached him by his diversion-seeking mama and --

"Harry," he hissed it, knowing it for the truth even while he could barely credit his brother with such outrageous behaviour. He glared at the Duke, sudden fury lending a vicious edge to his voice. "Tell me, Aresborough, did you seal the letter?"

The Duke's eyes narrowed. "Of course. What has that to do with anything?"

Iphicles took a very slow, deep breath and let it out equally slowly before he trusted himself to reply. "Everything, I should imagine. I cannot but believe that my brother, upon seeing your seal on a private billet addressed to me, should feel it incumbent upon himself to interfere."

For a heartbeat the Duke was silent, then his face filled with wrath. "He has gone too far this time."

He turned to his horse and wrenched its head up. Iphicles stepped forward and grabbed his arm, forcing Aresborough back to face him.

"Agreed," he gritted out. "But he is my responsibility."

The Duke's eyes were filled with rage, still, and Iphicles' grip tightened on his arm. "It is for me to deal with, nobody else," he reiterated, his voice holding a threat which boded ill for the absent Captain.

The Duke's chest rose and fell swiftly as he glared at the Earl. As Iphicles held his gaze, his breathing gradually slowed, and his eyes began to lose their violence. "Very well," he conceded finally. "But if you wish for a Second..."

Iphicles gave a sudden choke of laughter. "I do not think it will come to that," he informed Aresborough. "He is, after all, my brother."

All desire to laugh swiftly left him as he looked into the Duke's eyes. There was an uncertainty there which he had never seen before. Suddenly aware that he held the man by the arm, he let go. Aresborough turned and concentrated his attention upon sorting out his horse.

"So this letter," Iphicles broached finally, his hand running over the velvet muzzle of his own mount. "What did it say?"

The Duke's movements stilled for an instant, and then he because very busy in checking the fit of the bridle. "Aresborough," Iphicles said quietly.

The Duke turned back round, his lips twisted self-deprecatingly. "As I said, jug-bitten maunderings, no more."

Iphicles' hand dropped from his horse's head to his side. Aresborough's eyes followed its path, then looked back into the Earl's face.

"I may have asked you to talk to me, to allow me to explain that matters between us were not as you thought," he admitted at last.

His heartbeat suddenly uneven, his throat dry, Iphicles stared into the Duke's eyes. "Then talk to me," he invited breathlessly.

The Duke moved forward. "I would rather show you, Iphicles."

"No." Dropping his horse's reins, Iphicles stepped abruptly backwards. Aresborough stopped.

"I want you to tell me," the Earl said. He knew that if the Duke were to touch him, the man would be able to convince him of anything he chose.

Anger flared briefly in the Duke, then he looked away from Iphicles, his face unreadable. "Very well, Iphicles." His voice was clipped and low. "You were right. To begin with, your seduction was a challenge, a game, no more. You were so upright and proper, and with you being brother to the self-righteous Harry Fairfax, how could I be expected to resist the temptation?"

His head pounding at the man's brutal candour, Iphicles looked abruptly away. "You are honest at least," he managed, his throat tight.

He was vaguely aware that the Duke's gaze was on his face. "To begin with, I said," Aresborough's voice was rough. "It is different now."

Iphicles looked dazedly at him. The Duke's eyes were steady on his as he moved towards Iphicles, not stopping until his muscular body was so close to the Earl that Iphicles imagined he could feel the heat emanating from him.

"It is not like that now, Iphicles."

He shivered at the caress of the low voice, and then he was aware of nothing else as the Duke leaned in and his lips met Iphicles' own. Iphicles felt the soft warmth, and his mouth opened to the Duke, his eyes closing as Aresborough's tongue slowly pushed into his mouth and he tasted the Duke again. His arms went blindly around Aresborough, hands clutching, and he whimpered deep in his throat as he moved closer against the hard body, his tongue meeting the Duke's, lightly stroking in a way which drew a sound from Aresborough.

"You see, Iphicles," Aresborough's voice was husky when finally they broke the kiss, "This is how it is now."

Iphicles remained pressed against the Duke, feeling the warmth of his body through their clothes, pressed thigh to thigh, cock to swollen cock, breathing in the heady scent that was the Duke's own as Aresborough's mouth buried deep in his neck.

"We should move," Iphicles managed breathlessly at last. "Anyone might see us here."

The Duke's hands moved to caress his ass, causing the Earl to arch in response, pushing himself closer to Aresborough. Aresborough's whispered breath was hot in his ear. "And if they do, Iphicles, what does it matter?"

Iphicles was breathing fast, a sound escaping him as the Duke's finger slowly traced the centre seam of his buckskins. "They will all know sooner or later, Iphicles." That hypnotic voice again, sending shivers through him.

Lips moved against his neck as far as the neckcloth would allow, and then a tongue flicked his ear while a seeking hand slid down the front of his body, separating him briefly from the Duke to stroke his cock through his breeches.

His heart was pounding as he finally pulled away from the Duke. "Not here," he said firmly. He caught the Duke's mouth in a brief kiss, his tongue pushing demandingly into the moist warmth before he made himself pull away again. "The spinney. We're less likely to be disturbed."

The Duke captured his mouth again and kissed him in return, his tongue thrusting insistently in a promise so explicit that it was all Iphicles could do not to whimper. Aresborough finally released the Earl's mouth and began to unfasten his waistcoat buttons, his hands slipping underneath the loosened garment, unerringly finding Iphicles' nipples with his long fingers. He stroked them through the light shirt before running his nails hard across them, hungrily watching the Earl's face as he gasped at the sensation. Then he stopped, and pulled Iphicles' waistcoat together again.

"You are right," he confessed, "I would hate, really hate, to be disturbed in what I have in mind for you, Iphicles."

It was a short way only to the spinney, but the journey seemed to the Earl to last forever, for each step of the way was filled with the Duke's low voice telling Iphicles precisely what he was going to do to him once they reached the privacy of the spinney, how he would use his mouth and hands to bring him to quivering desperation before he finally thrust deep inside him.

They didn't bother even to tether the horses, but dropped the reins and reached for one another. The Duke's tongue thrusting excitedly into his mouth and the feel of Aresborough's body against his were almost more than Iphicles could bear and his hands fumbled as he tried to unfasten the Duke's coat. Aresborough pulled away for an instant to help Iphicles rid him of this, and then was back, pulling the Earl's shirt open so that his eager fingers could skim across his nipples. Iphicles was gasping as they kissed desperately and then the Duke began to strip him properly of his clothing. He made an attempt to reciprocate, pulling away the neckcloth, opening the waistcoat and shirt to reveal the clearly defined muscles of the Duke's broad chest, but then the Duke's hot mouth closed around his nipple, his teeth scraping the hard nub, and it was all he could do to remain standing as Aresborough's hand lightly stroked his fullness through the buckskins.

The Duke raised his head and looked into Iphicles' eyes as he stroked him again, causing the Earl to whimper and arch into his touch.

"Lie down, Iphicles."

The unevenness of the voice excited him beyond bearing and he instantly complied, lying on his back in the sunlight dappling through the branches above them. He stared up at the Duke standing over him, eyes drawn irresistibly to where Aresborough's own buckskins strained over excited flesh.

"Aresborough, please." His own voice was ragged.

The Duke's breathing came fast as he looked down at the Earl. "What do you want me to do, Iphicles?"

"Fuck me." It came out as a desperate demand.

The Duke suddenly knelt down beside Iphicles and, leaning forward, kissed him. "In a while, Iphicles," he promised when he drew back.

He moved and began to remove the Earl's right boot.

"Aresborough," Iphicles protested despairingly.

The Duke paused and looked at him. "I want to see you first, Iphicles," he said. "I want to see your body waiting for me."

Iphicles closed his eyes in frustration as he felt the Duke remove his other boot, then he was scarcely breathing as skilful fingers moved against his stomach to undo the top fastening before working on the side fastenings. He opened his eyes again in time to raise his head slightly and watch the Duke slowly fold the flap down and expose his eager cock. Aresborough leaned forward, his mouth closing briefly over the head, and his tongue swirled hotly, sending Iphicles arching upwards in helpless delight. He was still gasping when the Duke stripped him swiftly of his buckskins and then stood up again, looking down on the naked Earl. Iphicles felt no self-consciousness as he lay in the dappled sunlight, watching the Duke's eyes moving slowly over his body, lingering on his full cock. He stretched wantonly in the soft afternoon air, the harsh edge of a twig under his shoulder briefly interrupting the softness of the grass beneath him as he luxuriated in the warmth of the greenly-filtered sunlight and the heat of the Duke's gaze. As he saw Aresborough's eyes devouring him, he smiled slightly and opened his legs, drawing his right knee out and sliding it upwards on the grass until his achingly full cock was displayed further for Aresborough.

The Duke was suddenly on him, his tongue forcing his lips apart, hands greedy on his skin until the lips were abruptly gone from him and two fingers were being pushed into his eager mouth. As instant later, the Duke was sliding a slick finger inside him. Iphicles gasped and thrust down, wanting, needing, but somehow the Duke knew and added a second finger, working him, stretching him, until finally Aresborough was satisfied. He withdrew his fingers and undid his buckskins, freeing his rigid flesh. Iphicles bit hard into his lower lip, trying for control, as he looked and saw the Duke produce the familiar glass bottle from his pocket, upending it to pour some of the liquid directly onto his hardness, before casting the bottle aside, his hand smoothing the viscous liquid until his cock was glistening.

Any attempt at control was forgotten as Iphicles felt the blunt head nudging against him before Aresborough pushed his legs up and began to slide inside. He was crying out helplessly, pain and pleasure both, until the Duke drew back slightly and angled himself differently, pushing harder this time. This time he wasn't even aware of crying out, just of a voice rising in the summer afternoon in uncontrollable delight. Again and again, the Duke's size and hardness pushed deep into him, until his voice was lost and whimpers were all that remained. That was when Aresborough leaned forward to kiss him, his hand wrapping gently around Iphicles' cock. He straightened up again and thrust harder, his touch on Iphicles' straining flesh in time with his rhythm, and as he buried himself deep inside Iphicles, the Earl came, his arcing seed shining in the sunlight. And still Aresborough pushed into Iphicles, desperately now, sounds escaping him with each thrust, until he looked down at Iphicles' flushed face and his hips suddenly pumped erratically as he gasped out his completion.

Iphicles held Aresborough close as the Duke collapsed onto him, his head hidden against Iphicles' shoulder, Iphicles' hands beneath the Duke's shirt slipping on the damp flesh. Aresborough's breathing finally slowed, and with a kiss to the Earl's neck, Aresborough moved off him and lay down beside him with a satisfied sigh. Iphicles turned onto his side, his head propped on his hand to better watch the Duke's face, unable quite to believe that he was not dreaming. In the space of one short hour, everything had changed beyond comprehension. The past weeks of misery were forgotten; all that mattered was the fact that the Duke was with him.

"How did you find me?" he asked suddenly.

The Duke shifted slightly to become more comfortable where he lay before answering the Earl. "When I realised you did not intend to return my visit, I paid you another visit, on which occasion your butler graciously informed me that you were gone out of town." His lips curved as he looked at Iphicles. "It did not take too wild a guess on my part to reach the conclusion that you were visiting your estate, and your butler was obliging enough to inform me, albeit in tones of shocked reproach, that this was in Hertfordshire, not Yorkshire as I had remembered it to be."

"Good God!" Iphicles stared at him with an awful sort of fascination. "You really thought me so beyond the pale?"

The Duke grinned suddenly. "Not at all, Iphicles. But I could hardly ask him outright where Royston was, now could I? And to find that I had in fact regularly attended races held on the Heath not five miles from here was something of a chastening experience."

"And I thought you had done your research." Iphicles shook his head in mock disgust.

"Only into those aspects which affected me at the time, Iphicles"

"Fair enough," the Earl allowed. He lay quietly for a moment, before it dawned on him.

"And Caroline affected you, did she not?" He sat up, glaring down at the Duke. "What caused her sudden unexplained absence, Aresborough? You did not threaten her?"

"Iphicles," the Duke protested, seemingly amused as he followed the Earl's train of thought without difficulty. "I would not do so to such a remarkable woman. Perhaps I needed to apply a little pressure the first time, but upon the second occasion she saw that nothing would deflect me from my intention and even had the audacity to give me her unexpurgated opinion of my character and my behaviour towards you."

"The second occasion?" Iphicles became aware that his jaw was hanging open and swiftly shut it. "You mean she ended it between us because you forced her to?" And then the vision of Caroline giving Aresborough a piece of her mind would not go away, and he laughed.

"She is a remarkable woman," he agreed, laying down slowly beside the Duke.

"But tell me, why did you not dispose of Harry at the same time?" he pursued. He was teasing, yet suddenly remembered his brother's action and his lips compressed. "Talking of whom, I shall have to pay brother dearest a visit tomorrow before he returns to his heroic deeds. I cannot believe even Harry would do such a thing."

The Duke shrugged briefly. "He and I do not see eye to eye," he said. "In his own twisted and, thankfully, inimitable way, he probably thought that he did you a favour."

"But still," Iphicles expostulated, "To appropriate a sealed letter addressed to me goes beyond anything."

"I can only hope that he did not read it." Aresborough's voice was sour. "I do not enjoy the thought of Captain Harry Fairfax knowing anything of me that I do not choose him to know."

Iphicles looked quickly at him. "What was in it, Aresborough?"

The Duke shrugged again before responding in a carefully off-hand way. "An attempt to explain to you that things were not as you had thought, and something of how I wished them to be." His lips twisted self-deprecatingly. "I believe that I even painstakingly explained that I wrote to you rather than inflicted my presence upon you to show that I took notice of your request not to bother your family again. Had I known how your family would bother me, I would not have been so compliant."

Iphicles laughed suddenly. "At least my mother will be relieved by the overturning of the ban upon contact."

Aresborough's eyebrow rose in query.

"Your shameless flirtation - about which we still need to have words - made quite an impression," Iphicles explained. "I do believe you might be able to cut Sir John out with her if you were to put your mind to it."

Aresborough shuddered artistically. "Iphicles," he complained, "Just tell me that you have not given her my direction in Oxfordshire."

Iphicles regarded him consideringly. "Not yet," he finally admitted. "Although…" His voice suddenly faltered as the Duke raised himself onto one elbow and his hand began to trace light patterns over Iphicles' chest. "Perhaps I will not do so after all," he managed, his breathing uneven. He fell silent as the Duke leaned over and began to lick at the mixture of sweat and seed on his naked body, his breathing quickening further at the feel of that hot tongue on his skin, licking again and again.

"You see, Iphicles," the Duke finally raised his head and looked down at the Earl. "I do not wish anyone to disturb us any more than may be avoided."

He returned his mouth to Iphicles' skin, this time his tongue rasping as it swiped over a nipple, causing Iphicles to jolt upwards. "You are no doubt right," he got out at last, his hands burying themselves in the Duke's dark hair. And then he was able to say nothing further, only to cry out Aresborough's name as the Duke swallowed his cock, moistness and warmth tight around him. He raised his head briefly, and the sight of his cock sliding between the Duke's lips, the sight of the Duke, ripped a cry from him and, without warning, his seed spilled into Aresborough's mouth.

He was vaguely aware of the Duke moving back up, and he reached blindly for him, holding him close as heaving breaths shook him in response to his release. After a while, his breathing eased and he let go his tight hold on the Duke, who again moved so that he lay down beside Iphicles. The Earl began to make his way down Aresborough's body in turn, intent on showing the Duke what he knew he could not say. He finally took the swollen cock in his mouth, loving the way Aresborough's hands tightened in his hair, but loving even more the taste of the Duke and the way he filled his mouth, filled his senses. He slid his mouth down, allowing his teeth to graze very slightly, as he reached for the Duke's balls and began a gentle yet insistent caress. For an instant, the Duke's groan brought back to mind the image of Ogborne kneeling before Aresborough and his eyes screwed shut in an attempt to block out the memory, even while his tongue worked against the Duke's cock. The memory faded abruptly when he heard Aresborough gasp his name as he came.

Afterwards Iphicles lay on the soft summer grass with his head resting against Aresborough's hip, the Duke's hand moving idly through his hair as Iphicles' breath whispered across his skin, following the path of the lazily moving sunlight and shadows. Lying quietly listening to the Duke's breathing, feeling the warmth of Aresborough's body next to his, Iphicles knew that this was where he belonged.

***

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