Two hours later, Oscar stood outside Whites trying not to be intimated by the impressive stone façade. He’d opted for a quieter version of his usual outfits, a dark blue dinner jacket paired with an understated light pink waistcoat made with embroidered Indian cotton, and a plain white shirt and cravat. All approved by Otto, which should have helped his state of anxiety, but didn’t.
“Excuse me?”
“Yes.” The butler at White’s was a lot stiffer than Otto and incredibly intimidating.
“I have this?” He thrust the note at the butler who looked down his nose at it.
“Please follow this footman. He will take you to the Earl of Bennington.” It wasn’t approval but it was entry, so Oscar nodded and followed the footman, whose uniform puts Oscar’s cheap suit to shame. He wasn’t sure what to expect but he drank in every detail, comparing it to his club. There was nothing flashy about the décor, just an understated elegance which screamed of wealth. Everything, even the wallpaper, was expensive. He wanted to run his hand over the flocking on the walls, just to check if it was real, but he also didn’t want to get thrown out before he’d reached the dining room. It was quiet—more footmen than members—with only a few groups of men sitting around at tables. After a long walk, they entered a room where Oscar’s recent paramour sat alone at the edge of the room, staring out the large window. The dull winter sun shone through the window, covering the man, the Earl, in an ambient light that did nothing to soften the sternness of his features.
“Thank you.” Oscar spoke to the footman, then slipped into the chair opposite the Earl.
“Excuse me?” the Earl asked, still gazing out the window. A light snow dusted the courtyard which must’ve started just after Oscar entered White’s. It’d look nice for an hour or so until it turned into a grey-brown slush, so he’d likely miss the best of it.
“I was thanking the staff. However, I would also like to thank you for this opportunity.”
The Earl turned his head. “It’s nothing.”
“Maybe to you.” Oscar breathed out slowly. “For me, this is a chance to see how one of the most prestigious clubs in London operates. I would never be allowed in here if I wasn’t your guest.”
The Earl shrugged one shoulder as if it no big deal. “Shall we order?”
Oscar nodded, not wanting to seem completely ignorant of the process. The Earl glanced at a footman who hurried over.
“Your usual, my lord?”
“No. Today we will order everything on the menu. Please bring them in sets of two, so we have enough time to sample each dish.”
“Yes my lord.” The footman didn’t blink at the request, which made Oscar wonder how unusual a request would need to be to get a reaction. “Will you need wine?”
“Yes.”
The footman bowed and left.
“You look well,” the Earl said. If they were going to pretend that this was completely normal, Oscar could probably do that too.
“Thank you. You look as spectacularly severe as when we first met. Do you not approve of lunch either?”
“Excuse me?”
“You didn’t approve of my Christmas party with some rather delightful consequences for myself. Perhaps I’m hopeful.”
The Earl raised one eyebrow. “Not in Whites.”
Oscar wanted to giggle at the thought of being fucked by an Earl in Whites. It should be in the infamous betting book, but mostly he was pleased that the Earl’s answer wasn’t a no. “Later?”
The stern expression didn’t melt. “Are you asking if we should embark on an understanding?”
“I enjoyed myself. Did you?” An understanding... He understood that he wanted to spend more time with the Earl without clothing. Was that what he meant?
The Earl blinked once. “One enjoyable time doesn’t necessarily translate into another.”
“But it could.” He grinned. He definitely had ideas for more ways he’d like to bring this Earl undone.
“Only on my terms.”
It wasn’t a no, but Oscar wasn’t overly impressed by the bossy tone. “What about my terms?”
A frown flashed across the Earl’s brow before he schooled his expression back to a glare. “You have terms?”
