Chapter 11. The Goodbye

The expression on Lady Hawthorne"s unlikeable face was nothing short of triumphant.

"Ha! I told you, Mr. Thornby!" she exclaimed with a smug grin and looked at the host to see his reaction. "They were fornicating in your bathroom!"

Thornby, pale and frozen on the spot, seemed to be as shocked to see Benedict and Vivienne exiting the bathroom as they were to see him.

"What"s going on here?" Vivienne said, her voice even and almost bored.

"No need for the theatrics," Lady Hawthorne laughed, crossing her arms across her chest. "We heard everything." She looked at Benedict with a challenge in her eyes. "You should have listened to me, Mr. Blackmoor. You"re ruined now."

"I have no idea what you"re talking about," Benedict said casually, matching the nonchalance of Vivienne"s voice despite his heart leaping into his throat. "Miss LaFleur was feeling unwell, and I—"

"Don't!" Thornby suddenly cried out, red blotches instantly covering his pale neck and face. "You—" he pointed his shaking finger at Benedict. "You…I heard what you did…to her!"

Within a single moment, three things happened: a butler appeared at the end of the corridor; Benedict realized that Thornby still thought Victor was a female; and Thornby lunged at Benedict, crashing his fist into Benedict"s face, both of them tumbling onto the floor.

Although at first glance, Thornby"s hands were tiny and soft, they packed a punch. As Benedict hit the bathroom floor with the back of his head, he felt Thornby"s hard fists pummel his torso. From the side, they must have looked ridiculous—like a French Bulldog trying to take down a Great Dane. But with his head ringing from the impact and all of Thornby"s weight on his chest, Benedict struggled to breathe, unable to get the man off him.

It was Victor—well, Vivienne—who grabbed Thornby by the scruff of his neck and shoved him off Benedict. Still lightheaded, Benedict finally felt air reach his lungs.

"Are you all right?" Vivienne asked, offering him a hand. Benedict nodded, taking the offered hand and instantly being pulled to his feet. Despite his size, Benedict thought, Victor was incredibly strong.

"Sir! Sir!" The old butler hurried over to them and scrambled to help Thornby off the floor. Then he turned to glare at Benedict. "What"s going on?"

But it was Lady Hawthorne who cried out, "These gentlemen were committing an act of indecency in the bathroom!"

"A…a what?" the butler stuttered as he looked between Thornby and Benedict, obviously shocked that his master was capable of doing anything indecent, let alone with another man.

At that moment, Vivienne pulled Benedict by the hand and whispered, "Let"s go."

And they ran.

***

Maria was stunned to see Benedict exiting the carriage with Miss LaFleur and even more so when she noticed his bruised and battered face. Only after he forbade her from sending for the doctor and asked her to bring ice and a medical kit to his room was he able to go to his bathroom to clean himself up.

Looking into the mirror, he saw a large bruise already darkening on his cheekbone. His nose was bleeding, although much less than ten minutes ago, and his bottom lip was split and bleeding, too. His ribs ached when he moved, making him wonder if they were broken.

When he walked into his bedroom, Victor was waiting for him with the med kit, a towel, and a glass of ice.

"You look like hell," Victor said, giving him a once-over.

Benedict raised an eyebrow. "Where"s your wig?"

Victor nodded at the desk where he"d left it and shrugged. "My head hurt, so I took it off."

Benedict nodded. "You can borrow my clothes if you"d like to change, too."

"Actually, I"d love that," Victor said, surprise in his voice, but then he shook his head. "But I think I need a bath first."

"My bathroom is the second door on the left," Benedict said, unbuttoning his vest.

Victor gave him a sidelong glance as if trying to understand if he was serious. "Thanks, but it might be wiser for me to leave."

Benedict looked up at him. "Stay."

"After what just happened…" Victor"s voice trailed off. "It might be best if I"m not here when your family returns."

Benedict thought for a moment. He knew it would be a miracle if Lady Hawthorne didn"t reveal their secret to the entire ballroom the moment they left. And if she didn"t do it tonight, she would certainly do it tomorrow, and his life as he knew it would be over. Tonight or tomorrow, he would have to face his grandfather"s disappointment, his mother"s fear, and his brother"s disgust.

So he said again, "Stay."

He didn"t mean just tonight. He meant forever. But he didn"t say that.

Victor looked at him, hesitation in his gaze. He never hesitated, but now he did.

"Go have a bath," Benedict said insistently.

"But your family…"

"I will deal with them when they arrive."

"Let me at least tend to your bruises."

"Later," Benedict said. "I need to talk to my valet first."

Victor finally nodded and stood up. Benedict gave him a heap of fresh clothes—underwear, socks, a shirt, and pants—which, he knew, would be much larger than what Victor typically wore. Victor thanked him and disappeared down the corridor.

Benedict wished he could have a bath, too, but his business with the valet couldn't wait any longer. He called for John, who was surprised to see him and was shocked by the state of his face, but Benedict didn't let him fuss around—he had much more important business to attend to.

When Victor returned to Benedict"s bedroom—his hair wet, with no makeup, wearing the fresh clothes Benedict had given him, and holding a heap of dirty clothes in his hands—John was just leaving, and they ran into each other at the door.

Victor greeted him, but John seemed so confused that he stopped in the doorframe, blocking Victor"s way.

"And you are?" John said, narrowing his eyes as though trying to remember if he knew him.

"Victor LaFleur," Victor said with a trace of a smile on his lips.

John frowned before turning to look at his master. Benedict bit his lip, trying not to laugh at John"s dumbfounded expression, and shrugged back at him. John stepped aside, letting Victor into the room, before bowing to both of them and taking his leave.

"I might need to go before your valet has a heart attack," Victor said, smiling with the corner of his lips.

"He"ll be all right," Benedict smiled back, pressing an ice towel to his cheek. "He"s tougher than he looks."

Victor looked around the room and found a laundry basket in the corner where he placed his discarded clothes. Then he walked up to Benedict and assessed the damage done to his face.

"You"re bleeding," he said, and when Benedict reached to dab his nose with the towel, Victor took hold of his hand and pressed the towel to his lip instead.

Benedict"s breath hitched at the touch and the proximity of their bodies. He took a deep breath, but his ribs responded with a painful ache.

"Ouch," he breathed, nearly doubling over.

Victor held him up by the elbow. "Does it hurt?"

"I"m fine," Benedict managed to mutter. "It"s just my ribs."

"Let me see."

When Victor reached to take the unbuttoned vest off him, Benedict caught Victor"s hands in his own. They halted, so close, their breaths mingling together. Benedict"s eyes darted to Victor"s lips, his heart beating faster.

Victor managed to release his hands from Benedict"s grasp before slowly slipping the vest down his shoulders. Benedict caught Victor"s hands again, inching closer, still fixated on his lips. As Benedict"s face drew nearer, his lips almost touching Victor"s, Victor pulled away from the kiss and chuckled, "Easy there, darling, I think you might have hit your head."

"Ouch," Benedict breathed, "I think you might have broken my heart."

Victor chuckled again and reached for the buttons of Benedict"s shirt. "Let me see what Thornby did to your ribs."

As Victor unbuttoned his shirt, his fingers brushing across Benedict"s skin, Benedict"s breath hitched, and for a moment, he stopped breathing entirely. His torso was bruised even worse than his face—the skin bloodshot where Thornby"s small but mighty hands had punched him with abandon.

Victor"s fingers gently touched Benedict"s ribs, slowly moving down and then pressing lightly. "Does it hurt?" Victor asked, his voice tinged with concern.

"A little," Benedict said, still entranced by the moment, frozen under Victor"s touch.

"Take a deep breath."

Benedict did as he was told and felt a dull ache in his ribs.

"Does it hurt?" Victor asked again.

"A little," Benedict repeated.

"He might have fractured your ribs, but they aren"t broken."

"Good," Benedict whispered, his gaze darting back to Victor"s mouth.

Victor caught his gaze, and the corner of his lips turned up. "Fuck, stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you want to fuck me."

"I can"t. Because I do."

Victor"s eyes darkened with lust, but he took a tentative step back. "Are you sure you didn"t hit your head? Your family is about to return from the ball, where our little Miss Matchmaker must have told everybody what Shorewitch"s most eligible bachelor was doing with some crossdresser in Mr. Thornby"s bathroom, who, by the way, just beat you up."

Benedict sighed, "He didn"t beat me up. I just refused to punch him back."

"That"s not really my point."

Benedict closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. Then he said, "I don"t want to think about it." He opened his eyes again. "Not now."

"You can"t run away from reality," Victor said quietly, his voice inherently sad.

"I want to do just that," Benedict whispered back, taking a step towards him and cupping Victor"s face with his hands. "Just for tonight. Please. Victor."

The name worked like a magic word. Victor looked at Benedict"s lips, inching his face forward. As their lips touched, Benedict"s whole body shuddered with anticipation. His lips, insistent, caught Victor"s lower lip, backing him up across the room and pushing him against the wall. Benedict"s lips parted, his tongue finding Victor"s, a jolt of arousal instantly lancing through his body. Without breaking the kiss, Benedict turned the key, locking the door, and guided Victor towards the bed.

When Victor fell onto the soft sheets, Benedict followed him, shedding his own pants and underwear before proceeding to undress Victor. But when his fingers reached for the buttons on Victor"s trousers, Benedict noticed the expression on Victor's face and froze. There were tears in Victor"s eyes, his lips trembling.

"Oh God," Benedict whispered, "are you all right?"

Victor nodded but looked away, trying to blink away the tears. For a second, it was as though Benedict"s heart stopped beating. He slid off Victor and lay by his side, ignoring the aching pain in his ribs.

"Victor?"

"I"m fine," Victor said, still not meeting his gaze.

"You"re not fine. Did I…hurt you?"

Victor"s voice was barely a whisper when he said, "No."

Benedict felt his head spin as he sat up. "Then what"s wrong?"

Victor shook his head, uncontrollable tears now streaming down his face. "Nothing." He unbuttoned his own trousers and pushed them off along with his underwear. "Just fuck me, please."

"Stop it," Benedict said. He swallowed the sudden bitterness on his tongue and slid under the covers. Then he motioned with his head. "Come here."

Victor didn"t move, blinking as though he didn"t understand what Benedict meant.

"Come on, get under the covers," Benedict explained. This time, Victor did what he said, but when Benedict pulled him close to his chest and wrapped both of them with a blanket, Victor let out a sob, and Benedict felt a surge of panic in his chest.

"Please, tell me what"s wrong," he whispered.

"I"m sorry," Victor said, his voice full of shame. "I don"t know what"s wrong with me. I never cry."

Benedict kissed the top of his head and felt Victor lean into the embrace, his arm snaking across Benedict"s torso.

"Can you tell me why you"re crying?" Benedict asked softly, feeling the warmth of Victor"s damp hair against his shoulder.

"No," Victor whispered, his voice barely audible. "I"m sorry. I"m fine."

A heavy silence fell between them, but it was short-lived. Victor"s lips began to explore Benedict"s body, trailing kisses along his chest, chin, and cheek before finally capturing his mouth. Benedict responded to the kiss, his movements slow and gentle, but Victor craved more. His tongue darted out, parting Benedict"s lips and gliding along his bottom lip with urgency. Victor"s hand, which had been resting on Benedict"s torso, slid down between his legs. Benedict let out a sharp exhale as Victor's fingers found his cock and began to stroke.

"Victor," Benedict managed to murmur between kisses, "Stop."

Tears spilled from Victor"s eyes once more, landing on Benedict"s cheeks, but his hand never ceased its movement. Benedict"s cock grew harder with each stroke, and Victor"s soft moans punctuated the silence. Fighting against the arousal, Benedict grasped Victor"s wrist, stilling his hand.

"Stop."

The firmness in Benedict"s voice made Victor freeze. He pulled back, his gaze meeting Benedict"s frown.

"You"re hurting," Benedict said, his tone gentle but insistent. "Tell me why. And please, don"t try to distract me with sex."

Victor shook his head, his eyes pleading. "I don"t want to talk about it. So please, just fuck me."

"No. I can"t make love to you while you"re crying."

"I"ll stop. I"ve stopped. Please, I want you," Victor"s lips brushed against Benedict"s ear, sending shivers cascading down his spine. "I want you so badly." He grasped Benedict"s hand, guiding it between his own legs, pressing it against his erection. "Please. Don"t make me beg."

Benedict looked into Victor"s eyes and saw the aching need within them. He kissed Victor again, setting a slow pace as he gently placed Victor onto the pillows and braced himself with one hand, hovering above him. Benedict"s kisses were so languid that it took him a long time before he finally met Victor"s tongue. With each maddening stroke, he felt the sadness leaving Victor, replaced by lust and desperation. Benedict"s hand found Victor"s cock again, but he deliberately made the strokes slow—so slow that Victor was practically buzzing underneath him, letting out small whimpers as he moved to meet Benedict"s hand, aching for more friction. But Benedict didn"t give it to him just yet.

"Please," Victor begged, "fuck me, please."

Instead, Benedict slowly traced Victor"s body with his lips: first his chin, then his neck and chest, before placing a kiss on his stomach. His face finally leveled with Victor"s throbbing cock. Victor looked at him, holding his breath, his eyes dark with desire, as Benedict took his cock into his mouth.

The moan that followed was loud and desperate, but Benedict wanted to hear more. He took his time, starting with slow, teasing licks along Victor"s length. Victor"s hands found their way into Benedict"s hair, gently tugging him, urging him to move faster.

Benedict licked him from base to tip before taking just the head into his mouth, suckling gently. Victor gasped, bucking his hips. Benedict held him down, taking more of him into his mouth inch by inch and grabbing the rest of Victor's length with his hand.

He held there for a moment before starting a slow, bobbing rhythm, taking Victor deep into his throat with each downward motion. Victor moaned, his grip tightening in Benedict"s hair. Benedict hummed around him, the vibrations drawing another moan from Victor"s lips.

As Victor"s breathing grew more ragged, his body tensing, Benedict sensed he was getting close. Not wanting it to end just yet, Benedict pulled off, pressing a kiss to Victor"s hip. Victor whined at the loss of contact, his body thrumming with need.

Benedict"s own arousal ached for attention. He brought his fingers to his mouth, wetting them, before reaching down to find Victor"s entrance. Benedict slowly slipped one finger inside. Victor gasped, pushing back against the intrusion, welcoming it. Benedict worked the second finger in, stretching Victor open again, making sure he was ready.

When he felt Victor was prepared, Benedict removed his fingers. Benedict"s hand fumbled in the drawer of his nightstand, his fingers brushing past the usual assortment of grooming tools until he found the small vial of hair oil. He uncapped it, the scent of cedar and citrus filling the room, and poured a generous amount into his palm.

"This will do," he murmured and reached down, slicking his own arousal. Then he shifted, moving up Victor"s body to capture his lips in a deep, slow kiss. As they kissed, he lined himself up with Victor"s entrance. With a slow, smooth thrust of his hips, Benedict pushed inside, swallowing Victor"s moan.

"Fuck," Victor breathed, spread out on the pillow. Benedict froze, waiting for him to adjust, before Victor breathed, "Ah…M-move, please."

And Benedict moved, his thrusts slow at first, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, setting a tantalizing rhythm that had Victor writhing beneath him.

Victor"s aching cock lay between them, so hard that Benedict knew a single touch would send him over the edge. But he held off, wanting to draw out their pleasure.

Gradually, Benedict"s thrusts grew faster, harder. He gripped the headboard with one hand for leverage, the other hand still anchoring Victor"s hip. The bed creaked with each powerful thrust, the headboard thumping against the wall in time with their increasingly frantic movements.

Victor"s moans grew louder, more desperate, until with a sudden cry, he came untouched, his release spurting between their sweat-slicked bodies. The sight of him and the clenching of his muscles around Benedict"s cock was too much. With a final, deep thrust, Benedict buried himself inside Victor, chasing his own release.

Benedict collapsed on top of Victor, both of them panting hard. As the aftershocks of their climax faded, Benedict rolled to the side.

"That…" Victor breathed, "was…" His voice trailed off before he exhaled, "Fuck."

Benedict laughed quietly and pulled Victor into his arms. Victor seemed surprised by the gesture but leaned into the touch. He turned his head to look at Benedict, and as their eyes met, Benedict planted a quick kiss on the bridge of his nose.

Victor looked as though he wanted to say something, but he didn"t. Instead, he hugged Benedict tighter and closed his eyes. Soon, Benedict felt slumber overtaking him. When he was almost asleep, he heard a distant sound of hoofbeats through his haze. But he would deal with that later.

***

The next morning, Benedict awoke to a knock on the door. As he slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the sunlight, the first thing he felt was the pain in his chest. Damn Thornby. Still groggy from sleep, Benedict thought he might need to see a doctor after all.

Another knock came, louder this time, followed by the repeated click of the door handle as someone tried to open it. Only then did Benedict fully remember what had happened the previous night.

"Your lordship." John"s muffled voice came from the corridor. "Lord Blackmoor needs to speak with you."

Needs—not wants, Benedict thought, instantly imagining what was about to happen. He turned in the bed, expecting to find Victor beside him, but he wasn"t there. Benedict sat upright, his heart jolting into his throat, only to find Victor dozing off with a book sprawled across the armchair by the window. He was fully clothed, with the long sleeves of Benedict"s black shirt rolled up to his elbows.

"I will be out soon, John," Benedict said through the door as he snatched his clothes from the floor and began to dress. "You can go."

"I"m sorry, your lordship, but Lord Blackmoor gave me strict orders to bring you in now. And to bring your—" John coughed, clearing his throat, "guest—" he coughed again, "the gentleman—with you."

The gentleman. Fuck.

Benedict looked at Victor, who opened his eyes at that exact moment and was now squinting against the sun flooding into the room.

"What"s going on?" Victor asked, his voice groggy from sleep.

"My grandfather wants to speak to me," Benedict explained, buttoning his shirt. "To us."

Victor put down the book and stood up, straightening his clothes. He looked so good that when Benedict caught sight of himself in the mirror, his clothes crumpled and untidy, he decided to change. He didn"t have time for a bath now, but he definitely needed one. The bruise on his face looked even worse than last night, his lips swollen.

Benedict found an ironed shirt and pants in his wardrobe and quickly changed. Then he brushed his hair and gave himself a quick once-over in the mirror. He caught Victor"s gaze in the reflection and turned around. Victor stood hesitantly behind him.

"Did you sleep well?" Benedict asked quietly so John, standing outside the door, wouldn"t hear them.

"Yes." Victor nodded and ran his fingers through his unruly hair, trying to tidy it up.

Benedict raised an eyebrow and smiled a little. "What"s with the armchair then?"

"I—" Victor shrugged, and Benedict could tell he was holding something back. "I woke up early. Didn"t want to wake you."

Benedict nodded, deciding not to press it further, and strode to the door. "Are you ready?" he asked, glancing at Victor over his shoulder.

Victor nodded, and Benedict turned the key.

They were waiting for him in the study. All of them—his grandfather, his mother, Percy, and even Maria, who stood silently by the door. It was only eight o"clock in the morning, but they were already dressed and looked like they had been awake for at least a couple of hours.

When Benedict entered the room, all of his anxiety instantly vanished, giving way to a strange, calm resignation. He knew that his life as he knew it was over. He knew what he had done. And he was ready to accept the consequences.

"Please sit," Grandfather Henry told Benedict, seemingly ignoring Victor, who followed him inside.

Benedict sat on the sofa by the wall, and Victor sat beside him. It was then that Benedict could really look at his family and see their faces.

Grandfather Henry"s expression was blank, completely unreadable. Lilibeth looked pale and almost solemn, her gaze full of something akin to horror as it slid from her eldest son to the man sitting by his side. Percy seemed confused more than anything else, his eyes pinned on Victor as though he were a mythical creature.

For a few moments, they sat in silence. Then Grandfather Henry looked up from his hands, which he had been examining, and said, "Do you know why we"re here, Benedict?"

The look in his grandfather"s eyes breached Benedict"s composure. He had been fine a moment ago, but seeing his grandfather"s disappointment…Benedict felt a surge of pain in his chest.

"Yes," he said. There was no point in lying anymore.

"Lilibeth and I had a private conversation with Lady Hawthorne last night," his grandfather said, a frown on his face. "She told us a peculiar story." He paused, and Lilibeth let out a sob, reaching for the handkerchief in her dress pocket. "We didn"t believe her at first," Grandfather Henry continued. "To be honest, we thought the woman had gone mad when she said that Miss LaFleur was a man."

Benedict blinked, his stomach twisting, but stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

"But then she told us a long story about how she hired a private detective to find out who Vivienne LaFleur was. And how she found out that this woman doesn"t even exist. That she's indeed a man whom you hired to play the role of your love interest to secure the inheritance." There was anger in Grandfather Henry"s eyes, anger that Benedict had never seen in them before. "Is that true?" he asked, his voice as hard as steel.

Benedict knew that if he told his grandfather he had done it for him, it would sound like a childish lie. So he simply said, "Yes."

Grandfather Henry blinked at him, immense hurt in his eyes. Lilibeth let out a whimper and cried, tears streaming down her face. Percy said nothing, waiting, frowning. Benedict knew that he wouldn"t say anything now, especially when Grandfather Henry was this angry. But later, of course, Percy would surely find time to mock and humiliate him.

"I"m sorry," Benedict said, and although he knew his family expected some sort of explanation from him, he felt that anything he said would only sound like more lies. So he remained silent, waiting for his punishment.

"Lady Hawthorne also suggested," Grandfather Henry"s eyes found Benedict"s, "that you and—" he looked at Victor, "the young man were somehow involved with each other." His gaze was intense, as though he was trying to read something in Benedict"s expression. "Is that true?"

Benedict blinked. He didn"t look at Victor when he said, "No."

Lying was easy. He didn"t care if his own life was ruined, but he couldn"t let Hawthorne destroy Victor"s life. Not after the constant danger he had to endure as a drag queen.

"Don"t lie to me." Grandfather Henry"s voice carried a threat.

As Benedict looked into his eyes, he realized his grandfather didn"t believe him in the slightest, yet he still said, "I"m not," without so much as a blink.

Grandfather Henry nodded. "All right then. Lady Hawthorne suggested that if you proposed to Miss Ashcroft, she would keep this information private. I"m not going to force you to marry if you don"t feel anything for the girl, but you need to carefully consider your options. On your own. This is your life, Benedict. However, you won"t inherit the estate unless you marry."

Out of the corner of his eye, Benedict noticed Victor abruptly stand up and turn to face him. Victor avoided his gaze as he looked first at Grandfather Henry, then at Lilibeth and Percy, and said, "I"m sorry if I"ve hurt any of you. You showed me great kindness, and hurting you was never my intention."

He bowed curtly, then turned to Benedict and looked at him one last time, eyes gleaming with tears. Benedict instinctively stood up, his heart breaking from just looking at him, his whole body struggling to stand still and not reach out to wrap him in his arms.

Victor just nodded to him and strode towards the exit. As the door closed behind him, the sudden realization of what he had just done hit Benedict as tears streamed down his own face.

"Benedict?" Grandfather Henry said, and for a moment, Benedict thought he heard genuine worry in his voice.

"Fine," he said, wiping the tears off his face. "I'll marry her."

And the room went silent.