Chapter 2

From the harsh expression on the duke’s handsomely chiseled features, along with the sharpness of his tone, Billy could see that he had pushed and poked at the older man’s patience long enough for one evening.

Except, these verbal exchanges with the Duke of Wulferston had become the delight of Billy’s day. And evening too, if he could arrange it.

He’d never seen, let alone met, such a haughty and handsome gentleman as this man until he went to work at the Apollo Club four months ago. A man who effortlessly exuded the power of his lofty position in government and society.

The duke was several inches over six feet tall, which meant he was at least eight inches taller than Billy’s own five and a half feet. The older man had fashionably styled and very dark hair, with eyes of the deepest brown Billy had ever seen, set in a harsh face of high cheekbones, a long straight nose, with a full and sensuous lower lip below a thinner one.

Wulferston owned several dozen perfectly tailored dark-colored jackets and superfines, which he wore with rich brocade waistcoats and light-colored pantaloons. This evening’s superfine was black, the waistcoat silver brocade above pale gray pantaloons.

He looked every inch the powerful and wealthy duke that he was.

Men such as him didn’t make an appearance in the slums where Billy had been brought up and where what was left of his family still resided.

His ma had always been the driving force behind their family, taking in washing so that she could always keep a clean and welcoming house and food on the table for her half dozen children, while her husband was away at sea.

By rights, the danger of constantly going to sea should have meant that Billy’s da was the one to perish first. But instead, it had been Billy’s ma who had caught a chill from being outside, come rain or snow—sunshine never quite seemed to penetrate the too-close houses of the slums—while attending her laundry. The chill had gone straight to his ma’s chest, and within a matter of weeks, she was taken from them.

Their father, as usual, was away at sea. With Billy being the eldest of the six children, and Mary just a year younger than him, it had fallen to the pair of them to take care of their four younger siblings until their pa returned from his latest voyage.

Three years ago, his ma having taught him to read and write, he had applied for and been accepted as an apprentice to the clerk of a lawyer.

His dismissal four months ago, after caring for his sick ma and looking after his siblings, had left him floundering with no job to bring in the money to provide for such a large family.

Attaining the job of working as a waiter at the Apollo Club came with absolutely no prospect of promotion. But it paid well, and the fact Billy only worked in the evenings till late meant that he could care for his younger siblings during the day until his sister came home from working with a local seamstress and he could then leave for his evening working at the club. It wasn’t ideal, but between the two of them, they had managed.

When their da returned home three months ago, it was to learn that not only was his wife dead, but that his eldest son was no longer employed with a respectable lawyer. Instead, Billy told him he now worked in a club which his father knew, from gossip in the slums and dockside, catered to the desires of men who were attracted to other men.

In retrospect, Billy shouldn’t have told his da where he was now working. Because his da had immediately demanded Billy desist working in such a place of sin or he would be ejected from the only home he had ever known.

Much as Billy loved his siblings, he’d had to refuse to leave his employment at the Apollo Club.

Besides, his da had now given up the life of a sailor and remained at home mending sails and caring for his other five children.

Nor was his da too proud or too offended by Billy’s work to refuse the money he sent home every week to help with the family’s upkeep.

When the old Apollo burned down, leaving Billy once again unemployed, his da had sent word through Mary that he was welcome to move back home now that he was no longer working there.

Billy had chosen not to do so.

And the reason for that was currently sitting in a chair beside the warmth of the fire in the library at Wulferston House.

Wulfram Edmund Fitzherbert, the Duke of Wulferston, to be exact. And he knew it was Wulf’s nature to be exact.

Just to inwardly say the man’s name, to be allowed to be in the duke’s company, was enough to cause Billy’s heart to pound and his pulse to race.

He couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing this wickedly handsome man ever again.

That week of walking around with the imprint of the duke’s hand on the cheek of his arse, hidden beneath his clothes, had given Billy the inner feeling that he was wearing a private badge of the duke’s ownership.

It was a futile attraction, of course. Respectable and wealthy gentlemen such as the Duke of Wulferston would never be interested in someone as lowly as Billy Brown.

Well, maybe for a quick fuck, but that wasn’t what Billy wanted to be to the older man.

Indeed, Billy’s outrageous outspokenness toward the duke was used purely as defense against the humiliation he would suffer if the older man should ever become aware of the feelings Billy had for him.

The duke’s suggestion that Billy should now temporarily become his secretary during John Jamieson’s absence would severely test Billy’s ability to continue hiding that attraction.

But the thought of refusing any suggestion which would allow him to spend more time in the duke’s company was unthinkable.

He lifted his chin before replying. “Does being your secretary pay more money?”

* * *

Wulf should have known in which direction Billy’s thoughts would take him. The young man was completely mercenary when it came to his dealings with finance.

The only way Wulf had been able to attain Billy’s agreement to accept employment within Wulferston House, following the fire at the club, was if he was paid the same wage as he had earned as a waiter at that club. Wulf had given him that wage, of course.

“Will two shillings a week more be sufficient?” he queried dryly.

“It’ll do,” Billy conceded begrudgingly.

Wulf nodded. “It will come out of the wage of the footman who struck you after I have dismissed him for his unprovoked aggression toward you.”

Billy’s eyes widened in alarm. “Now I didn’t say it was unprovoked. Nor did I say it was a footman. Besides, you can’t do that.”

Wulf’s brows rose almost as high as his hairline. “Forgive me, but I thought I could do as I pleased in my own home.”

The younger man gave a taunting snort. “Then ya thought wrong. Ya only got away with it last time because that footman wasn’t one of ’is favorites. On top of which, the lad didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. But that isn’t going to be acceptable a second time.”

“Whose favorite? And acceptable to whom?”

“Moreland.”

“My butler?” Wulf was astonished. “I am not answerable to my butler for any of my actions.”

“You are if you want to keep this great big house running in the smooth and efficient manner you like it to and be served those delicious dinners you seem to enjoy so much.”

Wulf drew in a steadying breath while he considered what Billy was telling him. It sounded as if he was saying Moreland ran this house, not Wulf. Admittedly, the butler had a lot of say in what the servants did or did not do, but ultimately, Moreland did as he said, not the other way about.

Wulf still did not see the logic of Billy’s claim. He had a feeling, from Billy’s knowing expression, the younger man was about to tell him.

“Explain, if you please,” he invited abruptly.

“Well, Moreland is your butler, sure enough, but the footmen, underfootmen, and maids within the house are all relatives of his. The grooms in the stables too. So if you dismiss another one of them ’cos of me, then the whole bloody lot is like to stop work in protest.”

Wulf blinked. “All of my household staff are related to my butler?”

“Yes.”

“Including the cook, Mrs. Hodges?”

“I believe she’s his cousin.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very.”

“What of my valet?”

Billy gave him a derisive glance. “Unlike Chef Pierre at the club, Valentin is a genuine French paon. So no, he isn’t related to Moreland. I once heard you call him that,” Billy defended when Wulf raised surprised brows at his use of the French language.

Yes, Wulf remembered noting that his valet did tend to strut about dressed like a colorful peacock. He believed he had mentioned it after the Frenchman had voiced his despair at Wulf’s own preference for wearing dark clothing with crisp white linen.

Until very recently, the Chef Pierre mentioned by Billy had been in charge of the kitchen at the Apollo Club. Three weeks ago, they had learned that the man was a complete charlatan, that his name was really Peter Smith, and the actions of his violent family were well known within the London slums from which they came.

The man had also had a liking for abusing and raping the young men employed as servers at the Apollo. He secured their compliance by telling them they would be dismissed if they didn’t do as they were told, and threatened to tell any of the four members of the aristocracy who employed them.

Billy had not been one of the man’s victims, thank God.

No, instead, it had been Billy who drew the owners’ attention to the chef’s brutal behavior during a particularly vicious attack on the young man who had now been claimed by the Duke of Lancaster as the love of his life.

If Peter Smith had not already been dead, then Wulf felt sure that Lancaster would have taken great pleasure in bringing about that demise himself.

After receiving a severe beating from the bogus French chef, Christopher had crawled up to the attic at the Apollo to hide, and almost been killed in the fire which later swept through the building.

“Although, I wouldn’t count on Valentin staying on here if the rest of the servants aren’t here to do the work. He likes his comforts, that one, and he’s very partial to the pastries Mrs. Hodges cooks for him specially.” Billy winced slightly as he gently touched his swollen lip.

Wulf instantly noticed that reaction. “What happened this time to incite the violence toward you?”

“Well, I was in the stable, cleaning ya shitty boots for ya, when one of the grooms decided to taunt me with how being the master’s pet didn’t mean I don’t have to shovel shit like the rest of ’em, no matter how fine my jacket might be.” He gave a dismissive huff. “I soon showed ’im how to eat shit.”

Wulf held back a smile, despite the rather distressing news Billy had now disclosed about his household and stable staff.

Had he really been so blind that he had not noticed before now that there was, indeed, a certain family resemblance between each member of his staff?

It would seem that he had.

Of course, it was not normal practice for a duke to take particular note of his servants. Added to which, his thoughts and time had been rather obsessed with Billy for the past four months.

But Moreland had been his butler these past two years, and preoccupation with Billy was no excuse for Wulf’s lack of attention to these other details.

Or that, having left the hiring of household staff to Moreland, the other man had chosen to take advantage of that lack of attention by only engaging members of his own family.

“I can see how you might take exception to being referred to as the master’s pet,” he mused.

A blush stained Billy’s cheeks. “I took exception when the bastard started making personal comments about you, not me. I don’t give a fu—damn, what they say about me. I can take it and more. But I won’t allow them to talk about you in such a familiar manner. Even if the things were said with the intention of hur—taunting me.”

Wulf’s eyes widened. For a moment, it had almost sounded as if Billy was going to say the groom had made remarks about him he had intended to hurt Billy, not Wulf. “What sort of things?”

Billy’s gaze no longer met his as he stared down at the carpet. “How you have a male lover you keep in a house on Curzon Street. How he has a fancy carriage you bought for him. Servants you pay for. That he wears clothes and jewelry you also bought him.” Billy lifted his chin, his green gaze more guarded than Wulf had ever seen before. “Even if that was true, the people who work for you shouldn’t be repeating such dangerous gossip to a relative stranger. Such loose lips could get you hung or put in the asylum.”

They could indeed. But it was the rest of the groom’s comments which concerned Wulf the most.

He had, briefly, five months ago, set up a lover in a house on Curzon Street.

At the time, he had been searching for the steadfast affection and permanence two of his friends had since found.

He had known within days of settling for that particular lover that he had made a mistake. Mainly because Billy had begun to work at the Apollo shortly thereafter, and Wulf had known instantly that his feelings for the outspoken young man went far deeper than for the man he had thought might be his future.

That liaison had ended before it had really begun, with a large sum of money being given to his ex-lover as a way of sweetening that termination.

But not, it seemed, before one of his grooms had taken note of the half dozen visits Wulf had made to that particular house previous to that.

A groom who liked to gossip and was apparently related to Moreland, as were all the other household staff. Including his cook.

Wulf knew what he had to do next.

But first he needed to know… “Why would my keeping a lover in a house on Curzon Street taunt you?”

“’Cos all here think that I’m your lover.”

His eyes flared wide. “They do?”

“Yes,” Billy hissed. “They think I sneak into ya bedchamber every night and then leave again the following morning before the rest of the household is awake.”

If only that were true, Wulf thought longingly.

Except Wulf knew, even if Billy were agreeable to such an arrangement, that Wulf could never put him in a position where he would be open to such cruel ridicule. “You and I know that is untrue.”

“Well, of course, we both know it,” Billy scorned. “But that bastard of a groom thought it was funny to mock me anyway.”

Wulf winced. “There is no lover, Billy,” he said softly. “There was some months ago, but there is no more.”

“Ain’t none of my business if there is,” he mumbled.

Wulf released a shaky breath. “I should not like you to think…badly of me.”

Billy stared at him. “Why would I do that? As far as I know, you’ve always treated me and everyone else fairly. Moreland obviously too fairly,” he added with snort. “But it’s up to you who you take to your bed, and when and where you choose to do it.”

This conversation was far from what Wulf would have wished he could say to Billy.

The same young man who had been, and still was, the object of all his affection and physical longing since the moment Wulf first looked at him.

He tugged on the bellpull to summon Moreland before repeating his disclaimer. “There is no lover, Billy,” he stated firmly.

“And I said as it ain’t none of my business,” he maintained stubbornly.

“Of course not,” Wulf spoke wearily. “I—” He broke off his next words as the door suddenly opened.

“You rang for me, Your Grace?” Moreland stood in the doorway.

A Moreland who had appeared at the library far more quickly than he should have been able to do considering Wulf had summoned him only seconds before.

Unless, knowing one of his relatives had again attacked Billy, the butler had been listening outside the door to hear what Billy had to say on the incident?

Wulf nodded abruptly. “I wish for you and the rest of your family of leeches, and that includes all the stable staff and the cook, to pack your belongings and immediately remove yourselves from my sight and my home.”