“Albie’s doing all this work—all these important things—and I’m attending teas and pretending to look for a wife.”
“Not trying too hard, are you?” Beth asks with a little laugh.
Bobby smiles, mission accomplished. “I wish there was something I could do thatmeantsomething. And then there’s Demeroven, and he’s such a—” He pauses, not wanting to malignthe man too much in front of Beth. There is some language that’s unfit even for her ears.
“Yes, he is,” Beth says, raising a brow, a look she’s learned from Gwen.
Bobby sighs and fiddles with his signet ring. “Why do you keep letting Uncle Dashiell invite him to things?” he asks in lieu of getting up to face the literal music that seeps in under the door.
“I don’t have much choice, do I?” Beth asks, adjusting her skirts. “But I am sorry he was cruel to you.”
“You do not need to apologize on his behalf. His actions are not your responsibility,” Bobby says, standing up to mark his point.
“I know,” Beth says, waving him off. “Still, perhaps it was wrong of Gwen and me to insist you try and get along with him,” she adds, her eyes going distant for a moment. “Maybe we were wrong to think he might be different from my father and his stepfather.”
“You’re different,” Bobby says, forcing some cheer into his voice. She may have asked him to help, but Uncle Dashiell is the one who laid down the decree. “You’re the best Demeroven-turned-Bertram I know. Don’t tell Gwen.”
Beth laughs. “Thank you. But I’m not the one with the legacy. He is, and it just—” She searches for a moment but doesn’t seem to find the words. “I’ll meet you back in the box,” she says instead, squeezing his arm.
She walks past him and out the door. It swings shut behind her and Bobby stands there in the middle of the women’s water closet, feeling deeply adrift.
Demeroven’s right. Albie will repair the family legacy. And Bobby? Bobby will simply... exist. Leaving no legacy behind, nothing of value or substance. His only meaningful contributioncould be children—little spares of spares who could someday inherit if something terrible happened to Albie and his family.
But if he has children, he wants to have children for them—to give them the life and love that he and Albie never got. But how could he do that if he couldn’t be the right husband to their mother?
And if he can’t even bear children, how can he ever be more than a man who “wouldn’t understand” what true responsibility is in Demeroven’s eyes?
Bobby stares at his reflection in the hanging mirror. Wallowing in the ladies’ water closet isn’t going to get him anywhere, other than in a potential run-in with the authorities. With a sigh, Bobby straightens up and pushes through the door back into the dim corridor off the box seats. He hesitates, wondering if perhaps he should just set up camp here and wait out the rest of the performance.
But then, if he doesn’t go back, will Demeroven think less of him for it? Think he’s won, again, in this bizarre battle of painful family histories?
“The tenor is off pitch, don’t you think?”
Bobby jumps, a hand to his heart. Lord Raverson seems to appear out of the darkness. He grins slyly, looking Bobby up and down, and Bobby struggles to regain the little poise he has.
“He is,” Bobby agrees, though he honestly has no idea. “On your way for a smoke?”
Raverson shrugs and steps up to him, placing a hand against the wall behind Bobby so they’re close enough to speak at a whisper. He supposes it’s not the most indecent of poses, but surely more intimate than two men would normally be in such a setting.
The fact that they’ve been as intimate as, well, as Bobby’s been with anyone in a good long time stirs hot in his stomach.Flashes of that night a week ago in Prince’s pantry fill Bobby’s mind. He feels his cheeks flushing as Raverson continues to peruse his figure.
“Did I see you come out of the women’s water closet?”
Bobby swallows a slightly strangled laugh. “My cousin’s stepsister, ah, needed to talk.”
“Oh, are we thinking of trying to cross the family trees? I didn’t think you were so inclined,” Raverson says, his eyes seeming to sharpen.
“What? No. MissBertram is a dear friend. She was upset. It was nothing untoward, I assure you.”
Bobby doesn’t know which unsettles him more: the idea that anyone might think he was trying to seduce Beth, or that Raverson might have gotten the wrong impression about who Bobby would like to have trying to seduce him. But he really can’t think about much beyond the way Raverson’s biting at his lip.
“Would you like to be a little untoward tonight?” Raverson asks, his voice a husky whisper.
And though he knows it’s beyond foolish to consider, given where they are and who’s waiting for him, Bobby finds himself agreeing. A few minutes of hungry kisses and a good grope with Raverson sounds infinitely more appealing than sitting beside sodding Demeroven or pretending his cousin and Beth aren’t upset.
So he lets Raverson lead him past the water closets and into a curtained alcove against the wall behind the box seats. Raverson pulls the curtain around them, plunging them into complete darkness. And then it’s all lips and tongue and firm, squeezing, broad hands. Raverson hitches him up so he’s straddling the man’s thigh, his back flush to the wall.
He grinds down on Raverson, nearly whimpering. All hispent-up frustration surges through his body in an intense arousal that makes him feel like he’s sixteen again. Bobby bucks against Raverson as his hand starts to work the buttons of Bobby’s pants. He bites back a curse.
