Chapter 4

FOUR

How dare Robert Hawthorne, Jr. even hint that he was a victim of the world? Toby could hardly see straight as he marched away from the cunt, middle finger held high in the air. That was the problem with these people who had been born with more privilege than they even knew. If one day passed where they couldn't afford their expensive, French, bottled water, they acted like they were street urchins that the system had let down.

Well, Toby was an urchin who the system had let down, and he knew good and well that on any given day in his childhood, he might just have ended up on the street. He was proud of everything he'd done to lift himself out of all that, proud of where he was headed in life, and if the likes of Robert Hawthorne fucking Junior didn't think he was?—

Toby's raging thoughts stopped dead as he stepped out into the front hallway and spotted none other than Charles Duckworth entering the house.

Everything that had been swirling and raging inside Toby coiled together and reverted about five years to the bright-eyed, eager young uni student he'd been when he first met Duckie. Duckie had been the first man to give him a chance, the first man to truly see his potential and help him to achieve his dreams. And yeah, stupid though it had been at the time, he would have dropped to his knees and sucked Duckie's cock as much as he wanted, if the man wasn't definitively straight. He'd always had a thing for older men.

Seeing Duckie in the front hallway of Hawthorne House completely out of the blue, and having that moment come hard on the heels of an argument with Robbie that had nearly brought him to within inches of quitting the job Johnson, Johnson, and Inez had sent him on, even if it would have torpedoed his career, was jarring, to say the least.

"Duckie, what are you doing here?" Toby said, picking up his pace as he crossed the slightly crowded hall to shake hands with his mentor.

"Toby Tillman?" Duckie burst into a surprised smile as he accepted Toby's hand and pumped it hard. "I could ask you the same thing."

"I'm working," Toby said. "I've been sent to assess the financial situation of the Hawthorne family, since they've had an offer to buy them out."

A momentarily sharp look appeared in Duckie's eyes. "Is that so," he said, his smile growing as the sharp look blinked away. "And who sent you? Who are you working for these days?"

"Johnson, Johnson, and Inez," Toby said, standing a little taller.

He hadn't heard from his mentor during the past year. Duckie had put in a good word for him in the form of a letter of recommendation when he'd applied for his job, but once the offer had come in, he'd forgotten to touch base with Duckie to thank him.

"I always knew you'd do well, young man," Duckie said, thumping his shoulder with a wink.

Toby didn't even mind the slightly infantilizing feel of the gesture. He was too overjoyed at seeing the man he owed just about everything to to care. "I'm sorry I never wrote or called to thank you for the letter of recommendation," he said, righting the past wrong. "I know that I owe everything to your good word."

"Nonsense, my boy," Duckie said, shifting back and standing tall. He'd gained a bit of weight in the years since Toby had last saw him, but the extra pounds just made him look more formidable. "You've accomplished so much, and all on your own. Your father would be proud."

Toby's smile faltered a little, and a gnawing feeling bit at his stomach. Duckie did remember that his father had been in prison on drug charges for eight years now and he wasn't getting out anytime soon, didn't he? He did know who he was, right?

There wasn't time to ask.

"Ah, Mr. Duckworth. Welcome to Hawthorne House," Mr. Hawthorne said in a loud voice as he and his daughter emerged from the hallway that led to the offices.

Toby was instantly curious. Did the Hawthornes know Duckie? Was that why he'd been chosen for the Hawthorne House job?

"Allow me to introduce my daughter, Rebecca," Mr. Hawthorne went on, gesturing to Miss Hawthorne with a loving smile. "And this fine young man is Mr. Toby Tillman, from Johnson, Johnson, and Inez, who is doing some work with us."

A strange shiver passed through Toby. Mr. Hawthorne had introduced him with the same openness and smile that he'd used while introducing his own flesh and blood. Toby didn't want to, but he felt like the older man had wrapped a blanket around him and pulled him in for a family hug. The feeling was as foreign as it was encouraging.

"Young Tillman and I have met," Duckie said with a smile that somehow wasn't quite as encompassing as Mr. Hawthorne's, even though they'd known each other infinitely longer.

"Duckie, er, that is, Mr. Duckworth, was my mentor at the end of and just out of university," Toby said.

"Oh." Mr. Hawthorne suddenly glanced to Toby with something other than the warmth and inclusion that he'd had just moments before. "Is that so?"

"I owe a great deal to Mr. Duckworth," Toby said. "He taught me nearly everything I know about business. I'm convinced it was his letter of recommendation that caused Johnson, Johnson, and Inez to hire me."

"Interesting," Mr. Hawthorne said, colder still.

Before Toby's confusion could get any deeper, Early joined the small circle. "Good morning, Mr. Hawthorne, Rebecca. Is this the Mr. Duckworth you were expecting?"

"It is," Mr. Hawthorne said, smiling again.

"Welcome, Mr. Hawthorne," Early said with all his androgynous grace and charm. "Could I take your coat? Fetch you some tea?"

Toby was momentarily struck by how easily Early could have been a butler or footman, or maybe a maid, in the house as it had been hundreds of years ago.

"Thank you," Duckie said, removing his coat and handing it over.

No one had a chance to say more before Robbie came striding out of the side corridor where his ceramics classroom was, looking like someone had offended his honor.

After the argument the two of them had just had, Toby was certain Robbie had more than enough honor for anyone's good.

"Is something the matter?" Robbie asked, looking straight at Toby, like Toby was the matter.

"And this is my son, Robert, Jr., who we all call Robbie," Mr. Hawthorne extended the introductions.

Robbie dragged his eyes away from Toby and stared at Duckie. Toby would have expected Robbie to fall all over someone like Duckie, but to his surprise, Robbie's expression was confrontational. Almost as if he'd taken an instant dislike to the man.

That in itself was reason for Toby to dislike Robbie even more. Duckie was the very best of men.

And then Mr. Hawthorne said, "Mr. Duckworth works for Willoughby Entertainment Group. He asked if he could take a look at Hawthorne House and the estate grounds on behalf of his company."

Suddenly, the air in the front hall seemed thinner and crisscrossed with electricity. Robbie's frown of distaste seemed instantly justified, even if Toby still thought he was an arse and Duckie was amazing.

That didn't stop Toby's surprise from hitting, though.

"You're with Willoughby Entertainment Group now?" he asked, feeling deeply unsettled.

"Since last year," Duckie said with a smile. "They hired me as VP of Development." He turned to the others and said, "I'm the one who suggested looking into Hawthorne House as an investment opportunity."

Toby could practically feel the heat of rage boiling off Robbie. The fact that Robbie stood so near him, smelling like clay and affronted family honor, had Toby's heart beating faster. He almost felt like a planet caught in the orbit of a particularly unstable sun.

"There is a lot of potential for development at Hawthorne House," he said, glancing from Mr. Hawthorne to Duckie. "Besides turning the place into the next Alton Towers, that is."

"I'm glad you think so," Duckie said, his smile off somehow. He turned back to Mr. Hawthorne and went on with, "Any other uses you have for the property don't concern me. I'm here to look at the space available, and for now, that's it."

"By all means," Mr. Hawthorne said. "I can show you around. Early, how about that cuppa?"

"Shall I bring two?" Early asked, turning like he would head back to the office.

Toby didn't hear the answer, and he certainly wasn't asked if he'd like a cup of tea. As Duckie and Mr. Hawthorne shifted off to one side, Rebecca with them, Robbie grabbed Toby's arm hard and yanked him in the other direction.

"Oy! Get your hands off me!" Toby protested, pulling his arm out of Robbie's grip.

Robbie ignored him, shuffling him farther off to the side. "You have something to do with this, don't you," he said. "You brought the enemy inside our walls."

Toby didn't know whether to laugh or growl at the ridiculous assumption. "I had nothing at all to do with it," he said. "Why would you say that?"

"You obviously know Duckworth," Robbie said. "The way you look at him?—"

Toby burst into laughter before Robbie could finish his thought. "Look, mate, I'm flattered," he said, fully intending to use what might just have been jealousy against the knob, "but I worked with Duckworth before. He was my mentor. That's how I know him. I'm not trying to get into anyone's pants. But if you want to give it a go…." He smirked and crossed his arms, like he thought Robbie was a filthy little cock whore.

Robbie made a dismissive sound and jerked back. "Is that what you think?" he asked, his face growing slowly redder. "I wouldn't go anywhere near your pants, even if they were made of gold."

Toby laughed again, a different sort of excitement pulsing through him. "I was talking about Duckie, not me, you randy poof," he said, then deliberately looked Robbie up and down, like he was a piece of meat. "But hey, if you're that starved for cock, I wouldn't mind tossing you over that pottery wheel of yours and shoving it up your arse until you sneeze my jizz."

Robbie's eyes went wide and dark with offense and fury…and something much hotter. "Fucking prick," he mumbled, then turned and marched off.

Toby watched him go with a deeply self-satisfied smile. He'd definitely won that round. And hey, if the prize for winning the war was that he actually got the chance to bend Robert Fucking Hawthorne, Jr. over the nearest barrel and fuck him raw, then he would keep fighting until victory was his.

"Mr. Tillman, are you coming with us on the tour?" Mr. Hawthorne called from the other side of the front hall as he and Duckie emerged from the office.

"Alright," Toby called back, pushing himself into motion.

He was still floating on the high of getting the better of Robbie as they stepped out of the house and into what suddenly felt like a beautiful, spring day, despite a nip in the air and overcast skies. Pride kept Toby from paying more than cursory attention as Mr. Hawthorne explained the same bits of family history to Duckie that Robbie had explained to him earlier.

What really caught Toby's attention was the long stretch of the estate that stood between some of the outbuildings at the bottom of a slope, near a rushing stream.

"This is the working part of the estate," Mr. Hawthorne explained as they followed the path between several small, open buildings. "All of the various workshops that were once essential to operating an estate have been preserved and are now used for some of the more exotic classes we teach."

In fact, Toby could smell the distinct, acrid tang of the old-fashioned forge even before they turned a corner to find a tall man with broad shoulders hard at work, pounding a piece of red-hot metal on an anvil. The area of the forge contained a mix of historic and modern implements.

"We're one of the few forges in the county," Mr. Hawthorne went on. "In addition to teaching classes, Nate here is a master blacksmith who creates custom fixtures and ironwork. He's got three talented apprentices working under him as well. And he's the father of my late daughter, Raina's adorable children."

Nate stepped back from his work long enough to nod to them before thrusting whatever he'd been hammering into a barrel of water. The sizzle and steam were satisfying enough that Toby understood why someone would go into such a physical and demanding art.

"These other workshops are mostly used on Renaissance weekends," Mr. Hawthorne went on, taking them farther down the path, past outbuildings that were boarded up, but had clearly been made to look older than they were.

"What are the Renaissance weekends?" Toby asked.

Mr. Hawthorne stopped at the end of the buildings and gestured around the area. "A few times each summer, we open the grounds to the public and dress up as if it's fifteen-eight-eighty," he said. "Rebecca dresses up as Queen Elizabeth, local actors join in to perform Shakespeare and improv, and we even hold jousting tournaments. They're a real draw."

Toby's brow went up. It actually sounded like a lot of fun.

Duckie seemed to think so, too. "So Hawthorne House already has a reputation for putting on these Renaissance weekends?" he asked, rubbing his chin.

"We do," Mr. Hawthorne said, narrowing his eyes a little. "We strive for authenticity, which is why all the kids do demonstrations of their various arts and the techniques people would have used before the Industrial Revolution."

"Are there any rides?" Duckie asked. "Games?"

An itch started to spread down Toby's back as he watched Duckie looking around at the space. He had a bad feeling his mentor was hatching some sort of an idea for a historically themed amusement park, maybe even some sort of tie-in to any number of popular historic cartoons or movies that had been made by major studios lately.

"Plenty of games," Mr. Hawthorne said, gesturing for them to walk on with him. "Not so much rides, although we bring in a giant swing shaped like a pirate ship for the kids. You could consider that a ride."

Duckie laughed, but there was a definite edge to it. "No, Mr. Hawthorne. That doesn't count as a ride."

Something inside Toby sank. It was clear to him that Duckie didn't think much of Mr. Hawthorne. In all likelihood, Duckie thought it would be easy to take whatever he wanted from the Hawthornes. He probably thought the family would roll over and give him everything in exchange for the money.

"You said people perform Shakespeare?" he asked, walking a little faster so he could walk by Mr. Hawthorne's side. "Do you have a stage for that?"

Mr. Hawthorne smiled at him. "That's just where I was taking us all."

Sure enough, on the other side of a row of trees that looked like they had been planted specifically to divide the noisier workshops from the rest of the grounds stood a small, wooden stage. It faced a slope on the other side of the trees, which was where the audience must have sat for performances, and it had a minimal backstage area.

"It's not much, but we've had some pretty notable performers in the past. Sawyer Kingston played Benedick in Much Ado About Nothing here a couple years ago, before he got really famous."

Toby had to admit he was impressed. More than that, he could see other sorts of performances in the same space. It would require knocking down the current stage, pushing it back, and maybe digging out a bit more of the slope to make the entire area bigger. With a bit of work on the infrastructure to bring more power out to this part of the estate, the family could host even big name performers for concerts or plays of every sort. All of that could be done without interfering with the operations of the school.

And that wasn't even counting the frankly amazing jousting arena he could see off to one side. That came complete with a massive oval filled with sand, a stage, and stables behind it.

Beside him, Duckie sniffed. "It's a bit feeble, don't you think?" he asked.

It took Toby a moment to realize Duckie was talking to him.

"I don't know," Toby said, crossing his arms and looking at the space again. "It has potential."

He did his best to appear calm and disinterested, but inwardly, his heart raced. He could see what Duckie was doing. He was acting as unimpressed as possible, probably so Mr. Hawthorne would lose some of his enthusiasm for his estate. Toby had seen the technique before. If you wanted something, it was easier to convince the person who currently owned it that it wasn't valuable. Then you could get it for a steal.

Toby's gut filled with acid as he watched a forlorn look pass through Mr. Hawthorne's expression.

"You really need to see things when they're active," he said, too much uncertainty in his voice. "To do that, you need to be here for the first Renaissance weekend. It's actually happening this weekend, in four days."

"Oh, sure, sure," Duckie said with far too much condescension.

Toby fought not to wince. It wasn't fair. The Hawthornes had something, they just needed to expand what they were doing. But he could already see all the weapons Duckie would bring out to convince them otherwise.

It was his job to come up with ways to counter whatever Duckie had planned on behalf of Willoughby Entertainment Group. He could already see a hundred different ways to improve Hawthorne House. But was it worth crossing his mentor, a man he owed everything to, just so a bunch of poor little rich boys could keep their fancy house and their pretty art projects?

Fortunately for Toby, he didn't have to make that decision anytime soon.

"I think a fun weekend of running around, pretending we're our great-great-great-grandparents sounds like a jolly old time, eh, Toby?" Duckie asked. He slapped Toby's back so hard Toby nearly lost his footing.

"I've never been to a Renaissance faire or anything like that," Toby said, smiling at Duckie while his insides twisted. "It might be fun."

"It's settled, then," Mr. Hawthorne said, looking far less certain than Toby thought he should. "I expect to see both of you there bright and early on Saturday, when the gate opens."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Duckie said, sending Toby a toothy grin, like the two of them were working together.

Toby laughed, but all the bravado he'd had in his verbal joust with Robbie was gone. He'd been thrilled when he'd been assigned to assess the Hawthornes, but now he felt like he had, once again, been set up to fail by people who thought they were better than him.