Chapter 6

Daniel

Well, that had gone downhill fast, thought Daniel as he rode beside a tight-lipped Ambrose. Damn his loose tongue. What streak of impetuousness had made him spew all those words of seduction to a man he had only met the previous day? Of course, he knew. He had taken one look at Ambrose this morning and nearly burst with the force of his desire. Whatever feelings had been stoked yesterday were ten times stronger today.

Now his cards were on the table, and Ambrose had retreated into a shell of frigid formality. Damn and blast! He would have his work cut out to undo the damage that had been done. Patience—something he had in short supply—would need to be exercised to regain lost ground. His mind replayed Ambrose's words. I do not look upon fellow men in that way. I hope you get my meaning. He got the meaning alright. He was barking up the wrong tree.

For the first time, it occurred to Daniel that this particular chase was one he might not win. It was a novel sensation, not coming out on top. He could charm, he could persuade, but could he change a person's God-given nature? If a man did not inherently have sexual desire for other men, then that was not something that could be changed. He could have sworn though, that Ambrose was not indifferent to him—his blushes, the way he had avoided his eyes, his stumbling speech earlier in the dining room—all these clues had given him hope. But it seemed he was mistaken.

He entertained one other possibility. This one was even harder to contemplate. It was that Ambrose was lying about not looking upon fellow men in that way, and doing so out of fear. Society did not look kindly upon men who engaged in "bestial" acts with one another. Although sodomy itself was no longer punishable by death, there were laws against it which could result in prison sentences for the unfortunate men caught in the act.

Consumed by his own overwhelming desire, Daniel had never stopped to consider what danger he was putting Ambrose in by openly propositioning him. Not only was he putting the man's livelihood at risk, but also potentially risking his liberty. If that was the case, it was little wonder that Ambrose was running scared. A wave of mortification rolled over him as he glanced once more at Ambrose's rigid countenance. How crassly he had behaved!

As for himself, he had no fear —for who would ever dare say a word against the Earl of Stanton's grandson? Neither did he have shame for the feelings he was experiencing for Ambrose. Society may have viewed them as impermissible, but wanting another man seemed as natural to him as breathing. The desire he had felt for Ezra, and now more strongly for Ambrose, had risen spontaneously from within him, without any corrupting outside influence. Those feelings were a true part of his nature. It would seem strange indeed if God Almighty had made him so, only to condemn him for following the dictates of the nature with which he was formed.

On that last thought, they arrived at their first destination, one of the tenanted farms on the estate. Ambrose swung down from his horse and led it to a small outhouse, tethering it to a post. Daniel followed suit. For the first time since they had left Stanton Hall, Ambrose addressed Daniel directly. His tone was matter-of-fact, reciting information as if by rote. "This is the Summerford farm, one of our largest tenanted farms. It is held by Hugh Stanley and has been tenanted by his family for generations. It comprises four hundred acres of land rented at eighteen shillings an acre per annum."

"How often do you raise the rents?" wondered Daniel.

"I prepare a report for the earl each year in April with the latest information on land rents across the county," replied Ambrose. "The earl uses this to decide whether rents need to be raised or not and by how much. When doing so, he of course takes into consideration the individual circumstances of each tenant and their ability to take on additional debt. Then, I am tasked with discussing the new rent with the tenant and reaching an agreement as to when it is to come into effect, which is usually three to six months further down the line."

"I see," said Daniel thoughtfully. "That sounds eminently fair."

"I can vouch for the earl's fairness in all such matters," affirmed Ambrose. "Many other landlords hereabouts are far less considerate of their tenants' needs and demand higher rents than we do here."

Daniel said with a smile, "Grandfather may be a testy old goat, but he has never been greedy." He nodded towards the farmhouse ahead of them. "And what is the order of business today?"

"Two things," replied Ambrose, not quite looking him in the eye. "Firstly, as it is the time for ploughing and seeding, I will enquire as to how the acreage is to be planted for the year ahead. Most farms hereabouts operate on a four-year crop rotation system. I will note down how many acres have been laid to wheat, turnips or barley, and which fields are to be planted with ryegrass and clover for grazing. Secondly, I will inspect the farm building to ensure that it is being maintained to an acceptable standard."

This differed to what Daniel was used to back home, as the vast acreage of their land in Ohio was not tenanted out. Instead, his father and uncle farmed the land directly, employing labourers and a foreman to oversee their work. This system of landlord and tenants seemed positively feudal to him, but he kept his own counsel. "Lead on," he said with a small smile.

For the rest of the morning, Daniel followed Ambrose and observed him at work as they stopped at one farm after another. The people they encountered were curious about him but too polite to address more than a greeting in his direction. Ambrose too said very little to him apart from the bare facts about each farm they visited. In that time, Daniel was at leisure to study him. He noted the way he spoke in a quietly gentle yet firm tone, his impeccable memory and meticulous attention to detail, and the way he inspired a grudging respect from each tenant they saw.

Daniel noted other things too, such as how Ambrose had a tendency to press his plush lips together when he was deep in thought and to rub a long-fingered hand along his smooth jaw. He yearned to brush his fingers through the shock of golden hair that fell across his forehead. It looked soft, silky and inviting. Damn it but he wanted that man! His seduction of Ambrose may have suffered a severe setback today, but Daniel was determined to discover finally if Ambrose felt a corresponding attraction or if it was a lost cause. He would not give up just yet. How could he when every fibre of his being thrummed with desire for him?

At last, they reached their final destination of the day, drawing up outside the front steps of Mulverley Grange. It was a large stone house which brought to mind the gothic novels that his mother liked to read. Ambrose took out the leather bag he used to carry his notebook, pencil and various other items of equipment he required to perform his duties. After rummaging in it for a minute, he withdrew a large set of keys, and walking up the steps, he used one of the keys to unlock the door. With exaggerated courtesy, he stood back to allow Daniel inside.

On first glimpse, Daniel saw a dimly lit entrance hall from which rose a grand oak staircase that bifurcated into two separate sets of stairs on either side. Ambrose went quickly to light a candlestick that sat on a side table. With the additional illumination, Daniel was able to further examine his surroundings. The house on the inside was far more appealing than its exterior suggested. To their right was a large stone fireplace, above which hung an oil painting of a leafy landscape. The surrounding walls were panelled with ornately carved wood, and the floors were covered with large, polished flagstones.

"This is quite the place," remarked Daniel.

"Yes," agreed Ambrose. "Of all the manor houses on the Stanton estate, this is my favourite, though by no means the grandest. Netherwick Hall, which lies some ten miles from here, is much more substantial."

"How long has it been vacant? It seems a waste to have no one living here."

"It was leased by an older gentleman, a retired solicitor who lived here with his wife until three weeks ago," replied Ambrose. "However, they decided to travel to the Continent, hoping warmer climes would help with the gentleman's health. I have since placed an advert in the London newspapers and hope to find a new tenant soon, for as you say, it is a waste for such a house to lie empty."

Daniel took a turn around the hall, looking about him curiously. He voiced the questions at the top of his mind. "Why on earth would Grandfather need to own several other large houses such as this one? Is not Stanton Hall sufficient for his needs?"

Ambrose gave a short laugh. "More than sufficient, I would think. This house and the lands that came with it was part of your great-grandmother's dowry when she married the earl's father. I believe your grandfather planned to grant it to your uncle upon his maturity, and Netherwick Hall to your father." He paused uncomfortably. "Then of course, they both left for America, and these plans had to be set aside."

"Ah, yes, that makes sense. Papa and Uncle Jasper caused quite the upset with their exodus across the ocean." Daniel huffed in sympathetic amusement. "Poor Grandfather. Still, I cannot say I regret their decision. My life—had I even come into existence—would have been far different had they stayed here."

Ambrose gazed at him in interest, finally overcoming the reserve he had shown the past few hours. In a mellifluous voice that soothed Daniel's soul, he asked, "What is it about your life in America that you prefer?"

"Oh, a great many things," responded Daniel turning his attention back to Ambrose. "For one, I like the less formal way of life we have in Ohio. Papa's title holds very little meaning there—nobody addresses him as Viscount Stanton. To most people, he is simply Frank Stanton. I like that it is a place where a man can make something of himself by dint of his own hard work. Take our neighbour, Robert Ellis. Back in England, he had been a small farming tenant, much like the people we visited today. Now, he is the owner of a prosperous estate, and on an equal footing with Papa and Uncle Jasper."

Ambrose's eyes were fixed on his. Daniel thought he would drown in that smoky grey gaze. His pulse quickened; his chest tightened uncomfortably within the confines of his jacket.

"When I was a small child," murmured Ambrose, "my father considered emigrating to America as part of an Anglican mission. In the end, he decided against it because mother did not want to leave the familiarity of home."

"Well, I for one am glad he did not go, for otherwise I would not have had the privilege of meeting you, Ambrose," said Daniel huskily. He regretted it immediately as a shutter came down over those heavenly grey eyes. Damnation! Was he forever going to say the wrong things to this man?

Ambrose took hold of the candlestick which he had placed on the table while they talked. "Let me inspect the east wing of the house," he said briskly. "There was some damage to the walls following a heavy thunderstorm a few weeks ago, and I sent some workmen from the village to make the repairs. I would like to see the results of their work." With that, he turned and began to walk nimbly up the staircase.

Daniel followed in silence. They walked along the main corridor and inspected each of the rooms on the east side of the house. In the last room, Daniel paused, looking at the beamed ceiling which sloped down to just a foot above his head towards one end. Was that rot on the beam? He ran a finger along it to check and gave a startled cry.

"What is it?" fired Ambrose sharply.

Daniel bit back a curse, examining his hand in annoyance. "A splinter," he muttered. "It has embedded itself under my skin."

"Let me see." With surprising firmness, Ambrose took hold of his wrist and brought it up close to the light of the candlestick. After a moment's examination, he looked up at Daniel. "If I do not take this out now, it may cause infection," he said. He glanced across the room and pointed to a dressing table and stool. "Please sit there," he instructed.

Daniel thought of arguing, but Ambrose's words made sense. The splinter needed to be removed, and he had no intention of getting back on a horse to ride home with a hand that caused him such discomfort. Without a word, he went to sit at the table. Ambrose placed the candlestick on it, then opened the flap of the leather bag which he carried crossways across his chest. He took out from it a small bottle, a clean cloth and what looked like a set of tweezers. He smiled down at Daniel. "I keep these with me for such emergencies, having learned to the hard way."

He went to kneel at Daniel's side, taking his injured hand carefully between his. "I will clean it first with a little alcohol," he said. "It may sting briefly."

"Do what you must," Daniel ground out hoarsely. The sight of Ambrose on his knees before him was having a powerful effect. Dear God, what would it be like if Ambrose were to lean his head forward just a few more inches? A vision of those lush lips wrapped around his throbbing cock flew unbidden into his mind. He took a steadying breath, trying in vain to prevent the thickening of his shaft.

Fortunately, Ambrose's attention appeared to be on Daniel's hand, not his groin. Daniel thought he saw him glance quickly at his lap, too quickly surely to have noticed his arousal, and now Ambrose's gaze was fixed on his finger—although did he perceive a certain breathlessness? Daniel watched him as he unstoppered the bottle and wet the cloth with alcohol. Using that cloth, he wiped gently at the injured finger, then also cleaned the tips of the tweezing implement.

Ambrose glanced up, seeing Daniel's intense look but seemingly misinterpreting it. "This is what my sister, Sarah, tells me always to do with any wounds," he explained. "She is of a scientific disposition and informs me that there are invisible micro-organisms all around us which are the cause of disease. Cleaning with alcohol ensures they are destroyed."

"Yes, I have heard of Pasteur's germ theory," replied Daniel, his voice still sounding gravelly.

Ambrose brought his attention back to the task at hand. He inspected the splinter again. "I believe I can pull it out with this implement," he said. "I will need you to stay absolutely still."

"I will not move an inch," promised Daniel. He observed closely as Ambrose brought the tweezers to his finger, finding the end of the splinter and capturing it with the tips pressed tightly together. Slowly, he pulled the offending item out from under his skin. A pinprick of blood oozed from the wound, which Ambrose deftly wiped clean.

"There," he said with a smile. "All done." He let go of Daniel's hand and made to stand, but Daniel stopped him with a firm hand on his arm.

"A minute please, Ambrose." He blew out a soft breath as Ambrose paused, a troubled expression coming over his face. "First of all, thank you," Daniel said.

Ambrose inclined his head. "No thanks are required." He made to move again, but Daniel continued to grip his arm.

"Ambrose," he began again in a throaty voice. "I owe you an apology for this morning." Under his hand, he felt Ambrose's arm stiffen, so he continued quickly, "It was careless of me to say such words, especially after having known you for so short a time. All I can say in my defence is that from the moment we met, I have been struck by a powerful attraction to you. It is as if I have been bewitched. But I should not have acted on those feelings with so little care for yours, and for that, I apologise."

Ambrose replied in a taut voice, staring down at Daniel's hand on his arm, "Your apology is accepted, Mr Stanton. Let us not speak of this again." He tried to pull away again, but Daniel held on tight.

"Call me Daniel, please."

Ambrose shook his head. "It is better if I do not."

Daniel sighed. "Very well. But before we become formal with each other again, Ambrose, may I say one last thing?" On seeing Ambrose's faint nod, he went on bravely. "I understand this is a difficult subject to broach, but I would like you to know, Ambrose, that if we were ever to act on our desires—that is, if you too felt an attraction for me—then we could be discreet. No one but us would ever know. I would make sure of it."

He huffed uncomfortably. "That is to say, if you ever were to feel for me what I feel for you, but feared the consequences of such feelings, then I would keep this thing between us private—it would be our business and ours alone. Your safety and good name would be my highest consideration, I promise." He took another deep breath. "With this said, do you think you might ever come to feel such things for me?" he asked, his pulse thudding at his temple.

Time stood still in the frozen silence that ensued. Daniel stared into Ambrose's downturned face. Finally, Ambrose looked up, wearing a closed expression. "I am sorry, Mr Stanton," he said in a clear, composed voice. "I do not hold such desires and would prefer if we never speak of this again."

Disappointment, mingled with sadness, flooded through Daniel's being. "I see," he said softly. "May we at least become friends?"

"Friendship has to be earned."

"Then let me earn it," cajoled Daniel.

"We shall see." Ambrose looked pointedly at Daniel's hand still gripping his arm. "Now, it is time for us to go."

Reluctantly, Daniel released him. He watched Ambrose get to his feet and pack away everything into his bag. Then, in silence, he followed him out of the room and down the stairs back to the hall. There, Ambrose extinguished the candles and let Daniel out of the door, locking it securely behind them. Quietly, they returned to their horses, mounted them and rode back to Stanton Hall. The day, which had started out so promising, had turned so very badly wrong.