Chapter 9

NINE

Casper feltlike he was holding on to a beautiful secret. He’d slept with Sawyer Kingston. But that wasn’t even the secret. What wrapped itself around him and made him feel like his heart was enjoying a cozy tea on a rainy day was the fact that nothing tabloid-worthy had happened. He and Sawyer were just two men who adored each other and wanted to be as close to each other as possible.

To Casper’s way of thinking, some things were far more intimate than sweaty, naked sex. Sawyer was right about the myth of rampant, gay sexuality, or anyone’s sexuality. It didn’t have to be all about penetration and getting off. Neither he nor Sawyer had had to worry about performance or whether the other was pleased or if things were a total mess. They’d grown comfortable enough with each other that they could drop off and snore the night away, snuggled tight.

That didn’t stop Casper from feeling like something wasn’t right with Sawyer once the morning came. There had to be something more with the encounter Sawyer had had with Phillip in the portrait gallery. Professional rivalry was a thing in every field, but Casper felt like he was missing pieces of the story.

He was determined to find those pieces the next morning, at the wrap party picnic.

“I’m glad I only had the one scene early this morning,” Sawyer said as the two of them walked out to the spreading lawn of Wodehouse Abbey, where the cast and crew, and some family members and special guests, were already queuing for the buffet or grabbing what they must have considered the good seats in the shade of the long marquee that had been erected off to one side of the rose garden. “That’s over and done with, and now I can kick back and enjoy a good, old fashioned picnic.”

Casper laughed, feeling like the sun beaming down from the crystal-blue sky permeated every part of him, adding to his joy. “I don’t know how old-fashioned it is when they’ve got a whole area roped off for people trying out those virtual reality headsets,” he said.

Sawyer snorted with laughter. “We’re in the garden of one of the most beautiful country estates in coastal Yorkshire, and the kids just want to play video games.”

The irony wasn’t lost on Casper, but before he could make a comment, he spotted Phillip watching the two of them from just beyond the marquee. The way Phillip had his eyes narrowed as he followed their progress to the food tent was deeply unsettling.

“If those were my kids, which is a ridiculous notion,” Sawyer went on, evidently not seeing the threat of Phillip’s gaze, “I would tell them to take those headsets off and go run around for a change. I never had video games as a child and I turned out just fine.”

The comment was made with enough teasing that it pulled Casper out of the moment of worry Phillip had caused and made him laugh. “Did your parents insist you spend your time doing something to better yourself, like mine did?” he asked.

Sawyer sent him a wry look. “My mum was too busy reading her Bible and trying to save my soul, and my dad was too busy drinking and raging about to….” His sentence faded, as if he’d just realized what he’d said. “He was too busy with other things to go out and buy us a game system.”

Casper reached out to touch Sawyer’s hand in sympathy. They hadn’t spoken about it at all, but from the few things Sawyer had said here and there, Casper had the feeling his family life growing up hadn’t been the greatest experience. In fact, he worried that one of the reasons Sawyer had said so little about his mum and dad, even though Casper had seen him take calls from them several times in the past few weeks, was because his childhood had been filled with unhappiness.

“You know what we should really do,” Sawyer said with what felt like forced cheer as they joined the back of the queue at the food tent. “We should play one of those games I read about that the original After the War lads made up.”

Casper broke into a smile. “I’ve been dying to try out some of those mad games,” he said. “Redmond Wodehouse wrote down the rules to several of them, if you can even call them rules. I found them in a box in the library when I was doing research for my book.”

“Your book about the house party?” Sawyer asked. “How’s that going?”

Casper laughed. “About as well as my book on the history of The Brotherhood.”

Sawyer clapped a hand on his shoulder, which involved stretching his arm across Casper’s back, and left it there. “Your ship will come in, my friend. Publishers will be clamoring to publish every word you’ve written once this show comes out.”

“Hardly,” Casper said, blushing up a storm and feeling the touch of Sawyer’s arm as if it were something much more intimate.

For the first time in a long time, he felt like his dreams could actually come true. Why shouldn’t his research be considered for publication just as seriously as anyone else’s? He may not have been a professor at a respected institution yet, but that was just around the corner. His interview with the Royal University of London was days away, and unlike every other interview he’d been tortured with, he felt like he could smash this one.

It was all Sawyer. There was a kind of magic in having someone believe in you, someone as sure of himself and powerful as Sawyer in particular. When he’d arrived at Wodehouse Abbey, Casper had felt small and invisible. He hadn’t felt like he truly deserved to be there. Now, however, as he and Sawyer filled their plates with someone’s idea of authentic Regency cuisine, which it most certainly was not, and found themselves a place on the sloping hillside section of the lawn, where they could watch everyone else having a good time, Casper felt seen and heard.

“I have yet to work out whether that house party long ago was lonely for the lads or just what the doctor ordered,” Sawyer said as they munched away on their meat pies, fingers and mouths turning greasy as they smiled.

“I think for most of them, it was much needed respite after the ravages of war,” Casper said.

Sawyer hummed and wiped his fingers across his lips. The bottom felt like it went out of Casper’s stomach and his blood pumped with interest as he watched. It was a good thing he had a napkin over his lap. Despite his tepid interest in those things most of the time, Sawyer was sexy as hell.

“The pressures of what awaited them once the party was over must have been incredible, though,” Sawyer said, gazing off over the lawn with a troubled look for a moment. “Imagine having to go back to reality just when you settled in with your mates and found love.”

Casper’s brow inched up. He wasn’t sure whether Sawyer had made the connection to exactly what they were facing in the here and now or if he was oblivious to it.

Whatever the case, Sawyer turned quiet for a few minutes, lost in his own thoughts, as they finished their meat pies and turnip mash. Again, whoever thought they’d come up with the ideal Regency picnic menu had no idea what they were doing.

His thoughts had just turned to remembering the delicious meal Walt Severance had cooked for Kit’s party when a middle-aged woman who was dressed just a bit too formally for a picnic approached them and helped herself to a seat by Sawyer’s side.

“Hey Sawyer,” she said, not even looking at Casper. “I bet you’re excited for the premiere of Start at the Beginning next week.”

Sawyer smiled tightly at the woman. “Marta, have you met Casper Penhurst, the show’s official historian?” he asked, ignoring her implied question to gesture to Casper. “Casper, this is Marta French, a big agent from London.”

Marta laughed and rested a hand on Sawyer’s arm a little too boldly. “You’re sweet, Sawyer,” she said, smiling flirtatiously at him. “But I’m not that big of a deal.”

A stab of jealousy hit Casper square in the gut, and he moved his plate to the grass without finishing his food. The feeling that things weren’t right had ruined his appetite.

“You represent half the cast, or so it seems,” Sawyer went on.

“Only a few of them,” Marta corrected him. “I’d love to represent you one day.” She tilted her head to the side and slipped her manicured hand up to Sawyer’s shoulder, then brushed her fingers across his cheek.

Casper wanted to grab Sawyer and pull him close, shouting, “Mine! Get your hands off him!” The only thing that held him back was the knowledge that doing so would cause a scene.

Sawyer moved carefully away from Marta’s touch, scooting subtly closer to Casper, like he needed the back-up. “If anything ever goes pear-shaped with Vincent, you’ll be the first person I call,” he said with a tight smile, then went right into, “You should represent Casper here.”

“Oh?” Marta said, the predatory light in her eyes fading to something much more calculating. “And who are you?”

Casper tried not to bristle. Sawyer had just told her, but once again, he’d gone completely invisible.

He started to answer, but Sawyer jumped in with, “Casper has written several fascinating history books. And he’s about to interview for a prestigious professor’s position at the Royal University of London.”

Casper sent him a grateful smile. Academia was in no way as interesting as the film industry, but instead of hogging the spotlight, Sawyer had drawn attention to him.

“It’s only just an interview so far,” he said, self-effacingly. “But I have high hopes for a long and fruitful academic career.”

“How lovely,” Marta said, then, hardly taking a breath, went on to Sawyer with, “Give me a call once you’re back in London. I’d love to take you out to dinner.” She touched his arm again, and her “come hither” look was back.

“Oh, thanks, but I don’t know if I’ll have time,” Sawyer said, turning a violent shade of pink.

Marta hummed, and her expression went steely. “Enjoy the rest of the picnic,” she said, then stood and walked off.

“What the bloody hell was that all about?” Casper hissed once she was far enough away not to hear.

“I have no idea,” Sawyer said. He’d gone tense, and his voice was worried.

Casper rested a hand on his leg for a moment. “It’s probably just some sort of a power grab. She just wants you in her stable of celebrities to represent since you’re about to become mega-famous.”

Sawyer burst out laughing and dragged his eyes away from watching Marta as she headed to the marquee. He smiled at Casper and let out a breath of relief. “You’re probably right. They get paid when we get paid.”

“Too true,” Casper said, even though he didn’t know the first thing about it. He reached for his plate and napkin and started to stand. “Let’s go see if we can convince some of those kids with their VR headsets to play Whack Ball.”

“Whack Ball?” Sawyer laughed, accepting Casper’s hand, once he was on his feet, to help him stand. “What’s that?”

“Possibly one of the most dangerous and deadly games of the entire Regency era,” Casper answered.

The awkward moment with Marta wasn’t forgotten as they returned their plates to one of the tables manned by a member of Wodehouse Abbey’s staff and went off in search of the croquet sets that had been brought out for anyone who wanted to play, but it sank back to the background. Casper was far more interested in reenacting mad Regency house party games than deciphering what a slick Londen talent agent might want by flirting with a man who was obviously gay.

Then again, Sawyer wasn’t obviously gay. Not in public, at least. And even though he wasn’t rough and overly masculine, like Phillip and some of the crew members who had gathered quite an audience as they kicked a football around one end of the lawn, Sawyer wasn’t exactly soft and effeminate either.

Not that any of that mattered to Casper. He wasn’t sure he had a type at all. He just liked Sawyer and wanted to be with him.

“Right,” he explained, once they had gathered half a dozen of the older kids and handed out croquet mallets. “Whack Ball is exactly what it says it is. There are two teams, and the point is to whack the ball across the line on the opposing team’s side.”

“What, like hockey?” a particularly eager pre-teen girl asked.

“Sort of,” Casper said. “But with fewer players per side.”

“If we’re playing hockey, shouldn’t we have pads?” a boy with glasses asked, eyeing the girl warily.

“The ball has to stay on the ground,” Sawyer rushed to say, even though that wasn’t anywhere in the rules as Redmond Wodehouse had recorded them.

It was probably a good idea, though. Redmond’s partner, Lucas, had severely broken his leg playing Whack Ball at the house party. They didn’t need any sort of trauma like that now.

“Think of it more like croquet,” Casper said, smiling. “Nice, easy, precise smacks with the mallet.”

The girl looked disappointed. The boy with glasses did a bit, too.

Casper turned his head to grin at Sawyer, but his attention was caught as he spotted Marta speaking to Phillip at the other end of the lawn. They were much too far away for him to hear anything the two of them had to say, but both of them glanced toward Sawyer intermittently as they apparently debated something. Marta even threw her arm out to Sawyer at one point.

Sawyer was too busy making the teams and showing one of the younger boys how to properly hit a croquet ball and didn’t notice. Casper was glad for that. Something was going on, and whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. But that didn’t mean Sawyer had to waste a sunny day being upset about it.

The game commenced, and right away, Casper knew they weren’t playing it with anything close to the ferocity that the men of the long-ago house party had played it. He and Sawyer had taken roles as team captains, which mostly ended up with the two of them playing umpire as the kids smacked the ball around. The sporty girl must have had some hockey experience, because she went at the ball like it had offended the memory of her ancestors.

The game was fun, though. Casper found himself laughing and cheering on the kids, which was the last thing he expected for the wrap party. There was something invigorating about running around in the sunshine with kids, and it didn’t hurt that he and Sawyer constantly checked in with each other, smiling and flirting as they did. Maybe children were something in his future, if Sawyer wanted.

That thought was too tempting, and too far off, for Casper to hold onto it. He shook his head and forced his attention back on the game.

That focus on having fun and flirting was the reason neither of them noticed when the mood of the picnic started to change. Casper had been aware of people watching them, and he’d noted that a lot of people suddenly had their phones out, but he hadn’t connected the two things until they called a pause in the game to grab some water and Sawyer noticed the attention they were getting.

“What’s happened?” Sawyer said, reaching for his phone in the back pocket of his jeans. “Is something going on?”

“I don’t know,” Casper said, heading for one side of the playing field they’d marked out, where he’d left his phone and a bottle of water.

He stopped cold after a few steps when Sawyer gasped, “Jesus Christ!” When he whipped back, Sawyer said. “I’ve got about fifty text messages and a dozen missed calls.”

Something had definitely happened. Casper changed direction and hurried back to Sawyer, coming to stand by his side and to look over his shoulder at Sawyer’s phone.

The messages flew past as Sawyer scrolled through them. He didn’t open them at first, but Casper saw enough from the previews to know that something had happened. Most of the messages started with some version of “Is it true?”

“What the bloody hell?” Sawyer murmured as he opened one from Kenny, his brother.

That one message was all they needed to get a good idea of the shit that had just hit the fan. All Casper needed was to read the titles of the news stories Kenny sent to him.

“Sawyer Kingston’s Sexuality in Question.”

“Gay or Nay? Sawyer Kingston’s Deception.”

“Rising Star Accused of Queerbaiting.”

Sawyer turned his phone silently to Casper so he could see it better. He’d gone rigid and lost much of his color.

“Where did this come from?” Casper asked, outraged at the violation of privacy on Sawyer’s behalf. “What’s queerbaiting?”

“It’s…it’s when a celebrity pretends to be gay or is purposely vague about their sexuality to court the LGBTQ audience,” Sawyer said breathlessly.

Casper’s outrage grew, but it didn’t begin to cover what he felt once Sawyer tapped on the queerbaiting article.

There were pictures. Most of them were harmless pictures of Sawyer out and about with women, some of them famous. Casper assumed they were women Sawyer had worked with in the past. The pic that seemed the most damning, however, was from right there at Wodehouse Abbey. It appeared to be Sawyer and Vanessa in a sexy clinch.

“Is that real?” Casper asked, his voice hoarse.

“It’s real in that I was helping Vanessa with costumes last night, I tripped, and she caught me,” Sawyer said.

“Who took it? Who shared it with the press?” Casper demanded.

Sawyer shrugged tightly. “Could be Phillip.”

Casper snapped his head up to search furiously for the man.

“It could have been one of the PAs who were also in the hall around that time last night,” Sawyer said with a sigh. “There’s no way of knowing.”

Casper looked at the pic again. On second glance, there wasn’t anything romantic about it, even though the two of them were close. Still, he wanted to throttle whoever had leaked it, especially if it was Phillip.

“This is bizarre,” Casper said, glancing around anxiously.

The picnic was buzzing, and so many people looked like they wanted to approach Sawyer to ask what was going on that it was frightening. Worse still, a lot of people were taking pictures of the two of them. Phillip stood off to one side, looking angry enough to crush Wodehouse Abbey, Godzilla-style. Maybe he wasn’t the one who had leaked the pic after all.

“I’m going to have to call my publicist,” Sawyer said, pushing a shaky hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to sort something like this on my own.”

“Well, I’ll help you, whatever you need,” Casper said, placing his hand on the small of Sawyer’s back and moving him towards the edge of the lawn. “I don’t have the first clue what’s really going on here, but I’ll be here for whatever you need.”

“I’m not sure….” Sawyer said vaguely, looking like he’d been caught in the media’s headlights. “I don’t know…I think.” He stopped and swallowed when they reached the spot where Casper had left his phone and water bottle. “I think I’ve just been…inned.”