-11-

Jem

Jem stood by the linen draped tub, stripped of everything but his breeches and the vaguest smidgen of his dignity. That was about to be snatched away. Linfield was livid, or at least playacting the part. He'd dragged Jem up to his chamber before howling at the servants to get out. The last oversized pitcher of hot water still stood three quarter's full beside him to his right.

"Get in," Linfield barked. Lazy coils of steam rose off the water. It struck Jem that it was six and two threes whether Linfield intended to drown him or coerce him into a coupling. Mayhap he was contemplating both. Either way, he had little choice other than to obey. Threats to himself, he could stomach. Even a long march to the nearest village through the fog might be endured, but he would not have Eliza suffer for his actions.

"I said get in."

There were two ways he could approach this; with a sullen, mechanical stiffness that made plain his indignation, or as if it were simply an ordinary bath, the purpose of which was only to rid himself of the stink of wood smoke and ashes. The former was more likely to spark the spontaneous ignition of the air between them, whereas the latter would require a masterful piece of acting.

"You'll bathe, damn you, James."

James! He was only ever that when he was in trouble, or Linfield meant to compel him in some way.

Capitulating with a sigh, Jem dropped his breeches, then himself into the steel tub. Maybe he was over trusting, but he submerged himself entirely and let the water cocoon him. Sadly, it didn't whisper any insights into his lugholes. When he propelled himself into a seated position again, he found Linfield had taken a perch on the foot of the bed between the curtain swags.

Jem set to with the soap.

Linfield opened his mouth one or two times, without getting as far as speech, but eventually spat out, "I'm not trying to murder my wife. I'm doing my best to fulfil a duty I never asked for and have had thrust upon me. I can't believe you think me that villainous. Nor am I trying to have her declared mad, though considering all her prattling about spectres, one might reasonably assume her to be."

For a wonder, the man managed to sound genuine, if a touch irascible. The earl's plans for his son's future were certainly not being borne with ease, and grace had never got a look in. Linfield was far too used to being the centre of his own world, with those around him all dancing to his tune. It was hardly surprising that being compelled was making him volatile.

"I know she's not what you wanted," he replied, attempting a temperate tone. "And I appreciate how difficult things are."

Linfield considered this with his head tilted almost to his shoulder, and his lips tightly pursed. "There wouldn't be any point in doing away with her, anyway. Papa would only procure another chit. He's positively set on me procreating. ‘Can't have the line diverted off to some lesser branch,'" he mimicked. "I mean God forbid that one of my cousins had to inherit."

"Perhaps it won't be so bad on a second attempt," Jem suggested, not believing it for a second. "If you snuff the candles—"

"What? I'll somehow forget it's my wife I'm about to tup? Not likely, not even in the most Stygian of gloom." He made a piteous sound, as though he were facing denizens of the underworld and not the pleasures of a woman's cunt. "There weren't any candles lit the last time." His head hit his hands and bowed forward over his knees. "God in heaven, do you think I'd have subjected myself to Bell's leeches if the matter could be accomplished merely by extinguishing the light? Jem, my prick shrivels at the very thought of exploring her arbour. My cobs retreat so far into my innards they're in danger of becoming lost there. I've thought about this. Turned over every damn possibility. There's only one means of achieving my burden I have any faith in—"

"There are options." Damned if they were going to arc straight back to the matter of him performing. "Davy's gas, and you made mention of a whore who might assist. One capable of getting a rise out of the stubbornest of pricks."

The idea was waved away at once, and Linfield languished between the swags, pouty and indolent. "It was a thought born of desperation, nothing more. It won't work. There's never been a whore yet who could get a rise out of me. Leastways, none of a feminine persuasion. The truth is my prick prefers a different sort of touch. A fellow's touch. I think we can agree, Jamie, can we not, that I spend best when my porthole is plundered and stretched wide by a thick cremorne? And it's likely the only way in which I'll ever manage to impregnate my wife."

"Linfield, for the hundredth time, I'm not fucking you in a corridor." The soap shot free of his grasp and plopped into the water, necessitating him going on a hunt for it. What was surprising was that Linfield didn't immediately dive in with a rebuke, or a counterargument. When Jem finally got a grip on the soap again, and having deposited it over the side, he found Lindfield's dandelion clock of fine hair bobbing in agreement. "Wait, what? I feel I've missed something. You don't want me to do that anymore?"

"Having had time to mull it over, no."

Thank you, Lord!

"You'd need to join us in the marriage bed."

Jem plunged himself deep into the now murky water. Just for a moment there, a fraction of an iota of a second, he'd thought Linfield had seen sense. Fool him for thinking that Lord Nickninny would ever propose something that wasn't wild, stupid, or deranged.

He came up again once his air ran out, and still exasperated, scrubbed the water off his face. "You're suggesting I prick you while you prick your wife?"

"Yes. I thought it was rather—"

"Have you taken complete leave of your senses?"

"—elegant."

"I'm never agreeing to that. It's a nonsensical idea. More stupid than doing it in the corridor, and letting Bell's pets feast on your cock, and everything else that's been suggested or tried all put together." Although really, he oughtn't be surprised. When had Linfield ever said anything rational or sensible? Jem struggled to think of an occasion in the entirety of their acquaintance.

"You maintain all my ideas are nonsense, but nearly all of them you've gone along with, anyway. Why should this time be any different? Especially when this time, it matters. Really matters. It's the only hope I have of siring the necessary tailfruit to soothe my sire's grumbling."

Jem opened his mouth but found he was profoundly lacking in coherent arguments. "You don't think she might—"

"Object?" With the turn of a narrow wrist, his employer swept aside the notion as if it were a trifling thing, not a matter of considerable importance. "James, she's a lady. She's uninformed. I shall simply explain that a fellow's goujat is sometimes involved in such matters. It's not as if you're going to be touching her, and there's no deception about the matter, so you can't object on those grounds. It won't be like the corridor thing at all. This will be all entirely in the open."

Evidently his objections were irrelevant, too. "I'm not doing it. You're insane."

"I'm perfectly reasoning, and you're only being objectionable about it because your head's been turned in another direction, and I might add, Jamie, that I find that extremely irritating. You're here for me, not to consort with—"

"Don't," Jem barked, cutting him off before he said something unforgivable. The outburst earned him a ridiculous pout, the sort that would put a lady of the ton to shame.

"Well, if you weren't being so tiresome about the matter, we wouldn't need to have these little ripostes."

"Better tiresome than a fool. While I agree that Lady Linfield is likely ill-informed of the marriage acts, I question her total ignorance of the matter." She was Eliza's dear friend, after all. "I'm not climbing into the bed of a woman who hasn't explicitly invited me there."

"Oh, is that the issue?"

"Linfield, no!"

"She's my wife, Jem. I married her. She'll do as bid, like the meek and obliging creature she's been brought up to be. If it's my decree that another fellow is a necessity in our bed, then that's the beginning and end of the matter. Be thankful I'm not asking you to do the job for me." The grin that stretched wide his lips said he'd certainly entertained the notion. "You're far too swarthy." The Bellingbrook stock were all wan to the point of anaemia, with heads full of silky near-white hair, and spindly limbs; any deviation from that norm would rouse suspicions and set tongues wagging.

"You're damned right I'm not. Just what sort of gentleman do you think me?"

A great spurt of water hit him in the face, courtesy of Linfield clapping a hand across the surface. His eyebrows were raised. "James Whistler, I know exactly what manner of man you are. One with similar tastes and weaknesses to myself. That is why we're friends." Linfield leaned forward, propping his elbows on the rim of the bath and soaking his coat cuffs. "You'll help me bed my wife, Jem. You'll plunge your ramrod so deep in my arse there'll be no question of me spilling and the act bearing fruit. You'll do it because if you do not, there will be consequences."

He refused to play into Linfield's hand by asking what form those consequences might take; he could imagine well enough. Linfield could break him.

"The answer's still no."

Linfield's nasal huff, followed by a smile full of teeth, made the hairs all over Jem's body rise. He watched in alarm as Linfield sauntered across the room and gave the bell pull a sharp tug.

"What are you about?"

"Ringing for my valet."

"Why? Do you mean to eject me from the house naked?" In anticipation, Jem began propelling himself upright.

"Sit down!"

The snap of Linfield's voice, so unlike his usual nasal whine, had the desired effect. Jem fell back onto his arse with a splash that sent water sloshing over the sides.

"Much as that might amuse me, no, I'm not about to eject you. That would hardly achieve my objective, would it? I need you. However, it has come to my attention that one of my guests is not quite the person they appear, but is in fact a harlot given to unbridled salaciousness. She is thus quite unsuitable as a companion for my wife, and I will be sure to make that known."

"Goddamn you. Eliza has nothing to do with this. Will you leave her out of this matter!"

"Oh, Jamie. Numbers may evade me, likewise Latin verbs, but I assure you that both of my oars are in the water. She has everything to do with this. Your entire demeanour has changed since her arrival. You're wholly diverted, you deny me, and that is most unacceptable. Moreover, am I wrong in thinking that it's her opinion you're afeared of, and which is preventing you from being your usual agreeable self?"

"What you're asking of me—I think it's monstrous. I expect Eliza would too, but that is hardly the point. I expect every person in this house would think the same if the matter were put to them."

Linfield sashayed back towards him, waving a hand from side to side as if he were felling beasts to clear a path. "No, no, you must explain this to me. What exactly is so monstrous? The act of fucking me? Could it be that to which you refer? But surely not, for you have done that more than three dozen times over with no objections. Maybe it is the notion of me siring a child you find objectionable."

The notion of a junior Linfield was certainly no great delight.

"But I do not think it is that. One must therefore conclude that it is my lady wife you object to. Yet, how can that be so, when you and Bell have regaled me at length with her virtues."

"Linfield, you can't truly expect me to fuck you while she watches…while in her presence." He amended, pre-empting an offer to bind the lady's eyes.

"Why the hell not? Why should it matter where my prick is bedded at the time? If I had proposed such a passion not so long ago—not now, because since the arrive of Miss Wakefield you have become entirely irascible, but a short time ago—you would have had no objection to fucking me while I fucked another. None whatsoever."

"That's not—" He intended to say true, but it was. He would have done it, and he'd have enjoyed it. His damned traitorous prick was excited by the notion even now. And that was a problem, given that Linfield had a bird's eye view of it in all its naked glory.

Indeed, Linfield gave a mirthful snort. "See, you're not so terribly appalled by the notion."

Apparently, he could be appalled and aroused simultaneously.

Gentle fingers brushed through the hair on the back of his head, then seized his chin, turning him so that he was peering up at Linfield standing next to the tub. "Jamie… Jamie," he sing-songed, while his thumb swept back and forth across Jem's lips. "Do it, and I'll have cause to be extremely grateful. You won't only have my backing; words can be dropped in other ears. One does know a number of very flush and powerful men."

A lump clogged his throat that he tried to swallow out of existence. Linfield certainly knew how to bait a trap. If he ever managed to apply himself to something other than racing and roistering, his mind might sharpen into a tool worthy of the position he'd someday inherit. It was only a shame that he was applying himself in Jem's direction. Shit! He could see no way out of this bind that wouldn't compromise Eliza's reputation, which left him with no alternative but to forfeit her affections.

It was bad enough that she'd learn of his fascination for his fellowman, but to do so with her dearest's friend's husband while he attempted to plant his seed, she'd be appalled at him, would lose every ounce of respect for him. Nor could he blame her for it. Damn and blast, but he may as well write to Joshua Rushdale this very minute and congratulate him on his victory, for he would surely win Eliza's heart with only a fraction of effort. Joshua…glorious, dependable, solid, Joshua, with his clever hands and silver wings in his hair, was everything he wasn't and would never be. A magistrate, the brother-in-law of a marquis, flush with funds, and most importantly, not a sodomite or a prospective third wheel in a marriage bed.

"Linfield, please!" He stretched out an arm to the viscount, whose gaze slid over him hot and eager. "If you eject her, I'll leave, too."

"If you leave these walls against my wishes, I will take great relish in telling Henrietta both yours and Miss Wakefield's histories and I will be especially distraught about it."

"So, you're going to blackmail me into this?"

"If it's good enough for my father, then it's good enough for his son. Mayhap you should think more carefully about who you fornicate with while under my roof going forth."

Lord have mercy on him. "Linfield, it's not like that. I've never… We haven't—"

"You may claim it, but the evidence rather says otherwise."

Jem flinched as Linfield brushed a thumb over the mark on his neck. "Although, I suppose I could be persuaded that you were in fact assaulted by one of Bell's pets. The bruise is rather like those currently mottling my cock. Let me show you, that we might compare."

"Linfield, I don't want to—"

Too late. His falls were already undone, his semi-erect cock flapping about in Jem's face. Mottled was an accurate description. The normally pale skin was broken up by circles of blue-black bruising.

"Similar, don't you agree?"

Jem lowered his gaze, his capitulation already a given. "Similar, yes."

"Let me kiss it better for you. How awful for you to have been so assaulted. Bell must be made to keep a close guard on his pets." Dry lips pressed to the mark Eliza had left on Jem's neck. Then Linfield's prick was brought back onto a level with Jem's head. "Do the same for me, eh, my love?"

"Your valet's about to arrive."

"Aye, and if my knob's not being well petted by that point, Miss Wakefield will be the biggest social pariah of the decade."

There was nothing Jem could do but open his mouth.

~Ж~

Being forced to fellate a man with more funds than sense ought to have made Jem bloody irate, and it did, but it also turned out that his cock rather liked him being coerced. He could tell himself all he liked that it was the fact he was sparing Eliza future ignominy that made the act palatable, but a maggot in his core said otherwise.

"Jamie, Jamie, the man with a saint's name and the same willingness to serve his lord." Linfield pulled him in close so that Jem's nose butted up against his silken mat. It sent a shot of arousal right down through his pleasure centres. "Take up your cudgel, Jem. Let me see you soap it while you swallow."

They were past the point of resistance. He did as instructed, minus the soap, so that he was soon groaning around the wedge in his throat and drooling saliva over his chin.

"You're so good at that, Jamie. So, good." Linfield stroked one hand along the line of his jaw, the other remained fast upon the back of Jem's head. "Take it like a good boy, that's it. That's the man I know. The one who lives for something other than maths and verb forms. You realise you'll never be able to do this for her."

He didn't want to think of Eliza right now.

It was too late, of course. There was no way of untangling his passion for her from his relationship with Linfield. His lordship's ramblings were making sure of it. He did not seem to grasp that there were great gaping holes in his logic.

"What will you do when you're desperate for a prick in your arse, eh? Tell me that, Jem. You're never going to stop wanting it."

What would he do?

His mind provided a bright clear vision of Eliza naked on her hands and knees behind him, her tongue tip tickling his arse without an ounce of shame.

He did not share his vision with Linfield, but greedily kept it all for himself just as he'd stowed several other precious memories. Eliza as she had been last summer, in her sprigged summer muslin, brimming with life and knowledge, the most enchanting being he'd ever encountered. So, alive. So, engaged. Her thoughts outpacing his. The day was bright and fragrant. They were in Lord Marlinscar's garden. And his guests' voices formed a constant murmur on the breeze. They hadn't deliberately meandered away from the party. There was nothing salacious about it. They'd simply been so deep in conversation that their environs had lost all meaning.

She'd been telling him of her home, of the people who depended on her, the babies due to arrive, and all the things she would do if she owned an estate as large as Lauwine. He'd spoken of Stags Fell and growing up there, which had inevitably lead them to the topic of high-pressure engines, the possibilities that would open from the development of steam locomotion, and all the other riddles of the world that mathematics could be used to solve.

It was entirely accidental that they'd ended up in the middle of the hedge maze. Having reached that dead end, she'd turned and faced him. The breeze had tugged a few curls of her hair loose, so that they framed her face, and her eyes were full of delight over his scientific explanations. Every other woman he'd ever conversed with on such topics, except for his cousin Bertie, had only had yawns for him. He hadn't planned to do it, it just happened. He'd reached out a hand, cupped the side of her face, and she'd leaned into him, lips parted. The warmth of her breath touched him first, sent a rush of heat through his body, that only increased when true contact was made.

She was perfect and giving, and her presence filled the whole of his mind. He wanted to crush her closer, peel away the layers of their clothing and throw off the civility along with each item until all that was left was the raw, unfiltered versions of themselves.

Her mouth was a revelation. Her scent enthralled him. His heart was racing.

"Jem." Her hand pressed against his sternum, creating a degree of space between them. There was a small V of concern between her brows.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't—"

"It's not that."

She flicked a glance over his shoulder, which he followed, to find Joshua Rushdale standing in the entrance of the maze's central folly.

Joshua had spoken to him of Eliza. He was every bit as enamoured of her as Jem. They hadn't sworn a truce, but he still winced at the hurt he saw reflected in his friend's eyes.

"My apologies, I didn't realise." Joshua bowed his head then the interior darkness of the building swallowed him up.

"Shit!" Jem had hissed and followed it with an apology. "I should speak to him."

Eliza again stayed him with the press of her hand. "Actually, I think I should speak to him."

The world felt cold without the warmth of her body fitted against him. He'd worn a groove into the flagstones, then followed her within. Whatever speech had happened between them had obviously been uneasy. He arrived at the tail end of a sentence.

"—assumed, when I should not have done so. You'd given me no reason to think—."

"I don't wish you to think things are other than they are. Jem is—"

"Magnificent. It's not difficult to see why you'd lean towards him. I haven't his intellect."

"That's not true. You're learned in different ways. Joshua, I don't want you to think that I've made any sort of choice. I didn't even comprehend until this moment that there was a choice before me."

Jem came closer. If this conversation was to be had, then it was one that ought to include all three of them. Heartfelt words followed. Words and pleas, and heartache visible in all their faces. It was inevitable that one, if not all of them, were going to be hurt by the threads of desire that now linked them all.

He knew a solution but couldn't bring himself to propose it.

"Gentlemen, I'm away home tomorrow. I do not wish to make this parting sad. You have both brightened my world these last weeks. Neither of you can ask me to hurt the other. I won't. I don't want that. Shall we agree to remain all friends together?"

What else could they do but agree?

Even now, he couldn't find it in him to hate Joshua. He liked him too much. He'd spent days in the Stags Fell workshop with him, inhaling his scent, watching him rub the tension from his brow whenever his sister caused him a headache. People misunderstood him. They mistook kindness for weakness, and enduring love for his sibling as an endorsement of her behaviour. But all you had to do was look a little deeper, and the truth was obvious. Joshua craved novelty and companionship every bit as much as his sister did, only in Joshua's case, he was afraid to let go of his security to secure it.

So, Jem kept his thoughts to himself, and didn't say anything about triangles. Only in his imaginings did the afternoon end with the three of them entwined, loving one another as if three people doing so was the most natural arrangement on God's earth. Both of them kissing her, together and apart, exploring her body in a similar way. Tupping her together. Fucking her in a wide assortment of arrangements. And fucking each other too, while she watched and encouraged them.

He was a fool even to dream it.

Still, the fantasy of it was enough to bring him off. He spent, sending opalescent streamers across the surface of the water.

Linfield pulled free of his mouth, and for a moment, Jem thought he meant to splatter his face, but he barked a command instead.

"Get out and lean over the bottom of the bed."

Jem blinked. It'd been some time since Jem had last had his furrow ploughed. Usually, Linfield liked nothing better than to lie prostrate and utterly indolent and let someone else do all the work. Perhaps that was another contributing factor in his inability to tup his wife. It required actual physical exertion.

"What?" Linfield demanded. "I'm ramrod hard, and I need the practice."

Rivulets chased down his body as Jem complied. There was no towel with which to dry off, and indeed, Linfield hadn't the patience to wait for such a thing had one been available. He was behind Jem the moment his knees hit the edge of the bed and had a couple of fingers pushed inside him in a trice. It was uncomfortable, even with a slather of oil, but titillating in the same way having Linfield's cock pushed into his mouth earlier had been.

Jem took refuge in his memories again. Stags Fell remained his favourite place in all the world. The scent of oil and grease combined with an underlying metallic tang, and instead of jacquard beneath his body he imagined the pits and grooves of the workbench. His various cousins were around him. Pip at his chemistry set, Sheridan composing by the fireside, Bertie tailored to within an inch of her life in attire a dandy would aspire to look half so handsome in. In another blink, they were gone, and his sole companion was Joshua.

The stub of a pencil sat tucked behind his ear, while delight crinkled the corners of his eyes. He'd just solved a page of rambling equations and arrived at the same answer as Jem. They were positioned either side of the bench, their brows almost touching. His nostrils were full of the other man's scent, and he couldn't stop himself from peeping inside the open collar of Joshua's shirt. They'd both stripped off coats and cravats earlier when they'd been meddling with piston parts. There was still grease on the tip of Joshua's index finger and all Jem could think of was how desperately he wanted the other man to put that greased digit inside his bum.

Well, he wanted more than a finger, but he also knew that Joshua would never speak to him again if he suggested it.

"Damn, you're tight. You're squeezing me." Linfield licked the beads of water from the space between his shoulder blades. "Do some of the work, damn you. Push back. I've barely half my cock in you."

"If you want to get balls deep, you might consider foreplay."

"Dammit, I've already made you go off."

Linfield had had next to nothing to do with it.

He shoved instead. Jem felt the sting through to his nose. But he took it. He breathed through it, knowing it would be over soon, and that Eliza would be safe, while also accepting that while his mind rebelled at his current situation, his body sure as hell liked it.

"You love it. Admit it, Jamie, you live for these moments. There's no way you could live without them. You like taking it, and you like giving it." Linfield groaned indulgently and started massaging circles into Jem's flanks. "Oh, fuck, you're a nice ride. This can't end, Jamie. It can't end. It's too good between us. This is too good."

Jem tactfully kept the fact that he was thinking of another man to himself.

"She can't have you. I won't allow it. You're mine. Fuck, it's coming…"

Those last words squeezed free of Linfield's mouth as his load released. Jem rolled over once Linfield was done.

"Bring yourself off again."

He might be erect, but he had no desire to perform. "I'll be more eager for what you want me for later if you deny me the chance to finish now."

The notion seemed to confound Linfield, causing him to scratch his head and then his balls. "You've changed your tune. Figured you'd be doing anything at all to delay proceedings. Shall we say after dinner tonight, then?"

He was an idiot. "You said you would exhaust other options first."

"What other options? We both know my cock's not going to stand for her without assistance. Your assistance. I'm not interested in potions and leeches and whores—"

"There's Davy's gas."

"And do you have this gas?"

"I can make it."

Linfield chewed over the prospect while he righted his clothes. "Fine, I'll partake of your gas, but I don't anticipate—how was it you described it? That it'll put me in a theatrical mood."

Honestly, Jem didn't know that it would work either, but he had to try. He would try near anything at this point. The chamber door opened, and Linfield's harried valet scurried in.

"Good, you're here. This bathtub needs emptying."

"Of course, my lord. Right away. Mrs Cluett asks if she might have a moment of your time? She's in your study, my lord."

"What the devil's she in there for?" He eyed Jem suspiciously, like he might have something to do with it. "Stop loafing around the place, James, and put some clothes on. Don't you have an element to extract?"

"I'll fetch you some clean things," Linfield's man remarked.

The door banged behind both servant and master as they exited.

Jem slumped against the bedspread and pulled a pillow over his face. "It's not an element, you dolt. It's a compound."