Simply Pleasure (5 page)

“Yes.”

“But you hate—”

Val's hand closed over his mouth. “Do it and do it fast. Then I promise I'll go down to dinner with you and listen to what the marquess has to say.”

Peter pried Val's fingers away. “I'm not sure I want to be part of this war between you and your father.”

Val ignored him and slathered soap on Peter's cock. “This should be enough. I don't mind if it hurts. I want him to see me as I am.” He rolled onto his stomach and came up on his hands and knees. “Fuck me.”

And God help him, he did.

Val forced himself not to wash off Peter's come and struggled into his clothes, leaving them slightly disordered. As usual, Peter had been very gentle with him, but he still hated being fucked by a man. But in this instance it was worth it. He wanted the marquess to understand who and what he was. The revulsion on his father's face had confirmed everything Val suspected. Mr. Harrison had been telling tales.

Peter brushed his blond hair and walked over to the door. “Are you ready?” He looked far better than Val did, but then he'd just got what he always wanted—Val's arse. He frowned. “Do you need time to straighten yourself up?”

“I'm fine as I am. I've got clothes on, haven't I?”

Peter touched his arm as they descended the wide staircase. “Let him speak his piece first, Val. He might surprise you.”

“I doubt it.”

A footman bowed to them and directed them from the hallway into a small receiving room at the rear of the house. Mr. Harrison, Captain Ford, and the other members of his family were all present, as well as a younger boy who came straight up to Val.

“Valentin?” He stuck out his hand. “I'm your brother. Anthony.”

“Surely not.”

Anthony's smile faltered. “Well, we have the same father.”

“Oh, I
see
. You were my
replacement
.” Val glanced over at the marquess, who was watching intently. “Don't worry, I won't be here for long and then you can go back to being an only child.”

“That's not what I want, I—”

Peter stepped forward with his usual charming smile. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Anthony. I'm Peter.”

Val turned away and found his father right in front of him. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“Give me a chance, damn you.”

Val raised an eyebrow. “To do what?”

The marquess stared at him for a long moment and then shook his head. “May we just eat our dinner in relative harmony and thank those who saved your life before you sink your teeth into the rags of my self-esteem once again?”

“I can't promise anything, but I'll do my best.”

“Thank you.”

“Dinner is served, my lord.”

The butler opened the doors into the small adjoining dining room and everyone went through. Val found himself on his stepmother's right hand while Peter was up at the other end of the table next to the marquess. Anthony sat on Val's left, and Captain Ford was opposite him.

He managed to eat some of the food, which was the best he'd tasted so far in England, and drank the rich wine as fast as he could. He might as well enjoy it now. Judging from his father's expression, he wouldn't be welcome for much longer. And wasn't that what he wanted? To finally be free? After all, the marquess had moved on and forgotten both his wife and his firstborn son remarkably easily.

After the marchioness and Anthony withdrew, the port was passed around. Val took a few glasses of that as well.

“Are you glad to be home, Valentin?” Captain Ford asked as he passed the port decanter across the table.

“Ecstatic.”

“It must all seem a little strange to you after all those years abroad.”

“Yes.”

“But I'm sure that with your family's help, you'll soon forget all about the—the place you came from, and make a new life for yourself.”

“Where are you headed tomorrow?” Val put his glass down on the table.

“I'm off to the docks to meet up with the ship owners to see where my travels will take me next.”

Val met his gaze through the candlelight. “And if I had need of you?”

Captain Ford swallowed hard. “I didn't think you needed anyone, especially a fool like me.”

“But if I did? How would I find you?”

“Ask at the London docks for the shipping offices of Blyton and Sutcliff. You can get news of me there.”

“Thank you.”

He might never have to call on the captain's kind heart, but it never hurt to have allies. He glanced across at Mr. Harrison, who was also enjoying the port.

“Are you going home after this, too, sir?”

“Yes, Valentin. I'll be going back to my wife and daughters in Southampton.”

“And we appreciate you coming out of your way to deliver Valentin safely home to us.” The marquess added his voice to the conversation. “If you are ever in London again, you must come and visit.”

“I would be honored, my lord, although I would not wish to presume . . .”

“You found my son, Mr. Harrison. I am forever in your debt.”

Val tried to block out the note of sincerity in his father's voice and reminded himself that for an aristocrat it was all about maintaining a publicly acceptable face.

“I intend to leave quite early in the morning, my lord, so I should probably say my good-byes to you all tonight,” Mr. Harrison added.

The marquess rose from his seat. “Then why don't we all go into the drawing room and have tea with my wife and son?”

Val rose with the others and followed Peter out into the hallway. A hand on his shoulder made him stiffen.

“Would you mind coming into my study and speaking to me in private for a moment, Valentin?”

“If I must.” He shook off his father's hand and followed him in the opposite direction. The marquess walked in front of him and opened the door into a large book-lined room, which was vaguely familiar.

Val's steps slowed. “I remember this room.”

The marquess remained by the door, his gaze on Val, who had wandered over to the bookshelves. “You loved to read and often came in here to escape your nurse and your tutor.”

“Strange, as I can hardly read now.” Val slammed the book on the lectern shut.

“You can always learn again.”

“If I choose to.” He took the chair his father indicated and stretched out his legs. “What do you want?”

His father sat behind the desk and contemplated his folded hands before looking up. “I feel that everything I say offends you in some way, so perhaps the question is, what do you want from me?”

Val wished he could say nothing and walk out. Unfortunately, he wasn't prepared to go back and whore for a living—although his father didn't need to know that quite yet.

“Money.”

“Is that all?”

“What else is there?”

A muscle flicked in the marquess's cheek. “A home, a family who loves you, an ancient title and inheritance to learn about.”

“You've got a new family. Isn't that enough for you?”

“You're my eldest son, Valentin, and my heir.”

“I'm sure you can change that if you really want to. In fact, if you pay me enough money, I promise I'll disappear and you can forget all about me again.”

The marquess set his jaw. “I don't want you to disappear. I want you to live here with us, and reclaim your life and position in society.”

“Why?”

“Because you are my son, dammit!” His fist smashed onto the desk. “I am not prepared to let you go again.”

“You will force me to stay? You will control me?” Val smiled. “I thought I was finished being someone's slave.”

“You are determined to be at odds with me, aren't you?”

“That depends on the arrangement we come to. I'm willing to make some concessions.”

“On what conditions?”

“What happened to the Sokorvsky money from my mother?”

The marquess looked puzzled. “It was settled on you and is yours when you reach the age of twenty-one. Why do you ask?”

“Is the capital still intact?”

“If you are suggesting I might have tampered with it for my own benefit, you would be mistaken. It is all there and waiting for your majority.”

Val nodded as he reassessed his plans. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to live here, learn about your inheritance, and go to university to finish your education.”

“I'm not going to university. As I said, I can barely read in English anymore and I speak Turkish better than my native language.”

“All right, then you can stay here and learn all you need to know.”

“If I stay, any allowance you give me is mine to use as I wish. You will not control me with money. I can earn it on my back if you don't agree.”

“I will not control you in that way, although as your father, I am allowed to discuss your conduct with you and express my displeasure if necessary.”

“You already assume I will disappoint you?”

“Valentin, you have already given me every reason to think that you intend to make my life a living hell.”

“Then why put up with me? Give me an allowance and I'll go away.”

“I want you here.”

There was a grim set to the marquess's mouth that Val recognized only too well. “Anything else?”

“While you are here, you will treat your stepmother and your brother with respect.”

“Half brother.”

“Yes.”

“If you wish, but you must do the same for Peter.”

“Peter?”

“The man whose cock I was sucking earlier, my best friend.”

“You can't expect me to welcome a male—”

“—prostitute into your house? You already have, Father. Me. Peter has no memory of his life here in England, and no one else to care for him.”

“Then I'll give
him
a substantial sum of money so that he can go and live comfortably for the rest of his life.”

Val stood up, his hands fisted at his sides. “If you send him away, I'll go with him and be damned to you and your money, and your title, and your honor.” He forced himself to meet his father's gaze. “He saved my life. I owe him
everything.
”

The marquess stood too. “If he stays, you will have separate bedrooms.”

“If you insist, but I won't stop being with him. You have to swear to treat him as well as you treat me.”

“I'll do my best.” The marquess bowed. “Then, you will stay?”

“Until I inherit my mother's fortune, yes.”

“Thank
God
.” His father sank back down into his seat and buried his face in his hands. He looked far older than his forty-odd years. “Thank you, Valentin.”

Val continued to the door. “Be careful what you wish for, sir. In a month you'll probably be wishing I'd taken your money and run away.”

3

The Tangled Web

 

Peter paused in the back hallway of the Marquess of Stratham's town house and listened carefully for sounds of the staff. It was just before dawn and the household would be stirring. Rocking back on his heels, he had to grab for the banister to steady himself. He started the arduous process of climbing the backstairs, forcing one foot in front of the other, the lure of his bed the only thing that kept him moving.

He reached his room and slipped quietly inside, releasing his breath as he leaned against the wooden panels and steadied himself for the final effort of falling into his nice, clean bed.

“Where the devil have you been?”

He stiffened and looked over toward the fireplace.

“Val?”

“I asked you a question.”

Peter tried to straighten up. “I've been out.”

“That's hardly an answer.”

“You're not my keeper.” Peter raised an unsteady hand to his neckcloth and tugged at the tangled knot, his throat suddenly tight. “I'm going to bed.”

He managed to get the cravat off and started on his coat and waistcoat. Val remained by the fire, his expression forbidding.

“This won't do, Peter.”

He released the fall of his breeches and pulled his shirt over his head. “What won't? Me, going out without you? I thought you'd appreciate it.” He moved over to the nearest chair and sat to remove his boots and buckskin breeches. “You said you were going to a damned ball.”

“I was.”

“Then what the devil are you doing in my room with that disapproving expression on your face?”

Val stirred. “That
ball
was two days ago. Where have you been?”

Peter stood up and peeled off his tight-fitting breeches, running an idle hand over his cock and balls. Had it really been two days? It might explain why he felt so terrible.

“Peter—”

“Val. Go away. I need to sleep.”

His friend blocked his path, his violet-colored eyes narrowed, his mouth a tight line. “We need to talk about this.”

“Oh, for God's sake, isn't a man allowed to enjoy himself anymore?” He blew a taunting kiss into Val's face. “You're beginning to sound exactly like your father.”

“I'm worried about you.”

“About me?” Peter widened his eyes. “I'm fine. I've never been better.” He put his hand on Val's chest. “Move. I want to go to bed.”

“No.”

Peter closed the space between them, leaning his naked body against Val's unyielding form. “What's wrong? Did you want to fuck me? Are you angry because I wasn't here when you needed to scratch that particular itch and daren't do it to anyone else because, God forbid, the great Valentin Sokorvsky has a taste for sodomy?”

“You smell like a cheap whore.”

“Like knows like.” He kissed Val's nose. “You might have reacquired the manners of a gentleman in the last three years, but I know the truth.” He held Val's cold stare. “Either come to bed, or get out.”

Val stepped back. “I can see I'll get no sense out of you until after you've slept, but I won't be put off for much longer, Peter.”

Peter climbed into bed, taking his time showing off his body to Val, using all the skills he'd learned at the brothel to entice and enhance a customer's desire. He left the covers down and lay on his back, one hand wrapped around his cock, and smiled at Val.

“Are you sure you don't want to join me?”

“Not when you stink of other men's come.”

“Why does it offend you now? It never did in the brothel.”

Val took a hasty step toward him. “Because then we had no choice. Now we don't have to prostitute ourselves to
anyone
. Can't you see that?”

“Just because you don't want to do it anymore doesn't mean that I have to agree with you.”

“You like being fucked by anyone who wants you? I'll wager you don't even know who had you, or what you've done over the past three days, do you?”

Peter frowned, pushing the disturbing memories away, and forced a lazy smile. “What does it matter, anyway?”

“Because—” Val turned away and marched toward the door. “Devil take it. There is no point in talking to you about
anything
at the moment.”

“Thank God you've worked that out at last.” Peter closed his eyes. “Good night, Val.”

Val closed the door and went down the main staircase before he even remembered to think about where he was going. Seeing Peter like that, his gaze mindless from opium, and having to endure his endless barbed comments, made him want to punch something.

“Valentin?”

He looked up and saw his father standing at his study door. “Yes, sir?”

“Do you have a moment?”

“Yes, sir.” He followed the marquess into his study, waited until he took his seat behind his desk, and unconsciously braced himself. “How may I help you?”

“You're up very early this morning.”

“I was going out for a ride.”

The marquess looked keenly at him. “You didn't just come in with Peter?”

“No, sir.” He focused his gaze on the accounts books on the desk.

“I'm glad to hear it. I am concerned about Peter's behavior.”

“What about it?”

“I think you know, Valentin. From what I can see he is slipping deeper into his . . . addictions.”

“I am aware of that.”

“And what do you propose to do about it?”

Val shrugged. “He'll come around.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because it isn't the first time he's been like this.”

“But not while he's exposed to the gaze of London society.”

“Are you saying he's an embarrassment?”

“He's not my son, Valentin. I allow him to live here because it pleases you, but I cannot allow him to destroy the good name of my family.”

“No, I agree, that's my job. How exactly is Peter doing that?”

The marquess opened a drawer on his desk and drew out a sheaf of bills. “These are all his.”

“No gentleman pays his bills on time, not even you.”

“But these are all long overdue. From what I can tell, Peter is not spending his allowance on anything but opium. I am willing to pay these latest demands, but not if he continues to behave in this manner.” He hesitated. “There is one more thing. Peter's been stealing from me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Several items from the house have been left at one of the local moneylenders, and the sum I keep here in my study for the smaller household expenses? As of three days ago, it is all gone.”

A hollow sensation deepened in Val's chest as he stared into his father's eyes. “And what do you expect me to do about it?”

“He's your friend. You must speak to him.”

“And if that has no effect?”

“Then I'll be forced to ask him to leave.”

“I'll go with him.”

“That's your choice, Valentin.” For the first time his father looked defeated yet resolute. “You promised me three years and you have abided by that. I can hardly ask for anything more.”

“So you're kicking me out as well.”

“Oh, for God's sake, don't be a hypocrite,” his father said wearily. “You've been looking forward to this day for years. Don't try to pretend otherwise.” The marquess pushed a pile of papers over to him. “When you have time, read through this financial agreement, decide whether it's all in order, and sign it.”

“What is it?”

“It's the full accounts for the Sokorvsky trust monies, which come to you at the end of the month.”

“You're turning them over to me?”

“That was our agreement.”

“But—” Val swallowed back what he'd been going to say, and picked up the huge pile of paperwork. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

Nodding at his father, Val decided to abandon his ride and took himself back up the stairs to his bedroom. He hadn't agreed to do anything about Peter, but his father's revelations had shocked him. After a glance at the clock, he settled down to read through the papers his father had given him. His English had improved considerably in the past three years, but the legal jargon wouldn't be easy to read. Peter wouldn't wake up for hours, and by then, if Val were lucky, he would have thought up a plan to save Peter from himself.

Four hours later, after checking that Peter was still sleeping, Val took the signed papers back to his father's study and left them on the desk. If he'd read everything correctly, the bulk of the accumulated money would be deposited in his bank account at the end of the month, with the remainder tied up in stocks and shares to give him an annual income. He'd chosen to leave the papers when he knew his father was at his club, but he would have to speak to him about them at some point. He at least owed the man a thank-you for preserving his inheritance.

In truth, he'd half-expected his father to pull out some legal reason why he wasn't worthy to inherit the money. He'd assumed he'd want to keep him close, but it seemed he'd given up on that dream. Possibly because Val had made the last three years as hellish for everyone as he could.

After putting the papers down, he lingered in the study to stare at the small portrait of him as a baby on his mother's knee. She was blond, but he'd inherited her eyes and delicate bone structure. The rest of him came directly from his father. At least the marquess had been loyal to his Russian princess in financial matters. And, Isabelle, the new marchioness, had been unfailingly kind to Val despite his efforts to treat her with cold disdain and disinterest. And at twenty-one he was mature enough to realize that most men needed female companionship—even his father.

He couldn't fault the marquess for his meticulous accounting and tending to the Sokorvsky fortune, which would make Val independently wealthy of his father. He could've tied the money up so that his son couldn't touch it for years, but he hadn't. Val stared at the large portrait of the marquess, Isabelle, and Anthony that hung above the fireplace. It had become increasingly clear over the years that despite everything, his sire was willing to do anything to placate the eldest son he had replaced so effortlessly. And Val had tested and exploited that weakness to the absolute limit. Scandalous sexual liaisons, ridiculous bets, and gambling debts that had secretly shocked even him. His father had dealt with them all with barely a word, which had only inspired Val to try harder to do something even worse. But even he had never contemplated pawning his father's possessions.

He turned away and went into the hall to collect his hat and gloves from the butler. As he went through the front door, Anthony came down the stairs with his tutor and Val paused as his brother came bounding up to him.

“Morning, Valentin.”

“Good morning, Anthony.” He nodded at the boy's tutor. “Are you going out?”

“We're going down to the docks to inspect the latest arrivals.”

“I didn't realize you were interested in such things. I'm sure your father would not approve.”

Anthony heaved a gusty sigh. “He doesn't approve of anything.”

Val found himself smiling in sympathy at his younger brother before he recollected himself and touched his hat. “Let me know if a ship called the
Bird of the Isles
has docked, will you? An old friend of mine is the captain.”

“I will.” Anthony stepped out of his way.