He meant to come right out and say that he was in no position to own or care for anyone. He valued his freedom too much to seek out a partner from the legion of willing men that lived their lives in secret throughout London. He could have joined The Brotherhood if he wished to keep company with men like them who fancied themselves part of polite society. He could’ve argued that Charlie didn’t really know him, that their acquaintance was only days old. Or that his business didn’t allow him the time to foster any sort of intimate relationship.
But Charlie had been a quick learner where the photographic process was concerned. He’d been incredibly useful during the two sessions he’d assisted with in the last few days. And it might be nice to have a steady companion around the house to stave off the worst of his loneliness.
But owning him?
“I suppose there would be no harm in accepting the job Brutus and Titus have offered,” he said, deflecting away from emotions that were too intense for him to manage at that moment.
He pulled his hand away from Charlie’s.
Charlie leaned toward him, like he didn’t want to let Jonathan go.
“I’m still not convinced my father or Lord Frome will be persuaded to hire me to begin with,” Jonathan went on, forcing himself into his most carefree and casual manner as he put more butter on the piece of bread he’d already buttered for himself just to give his hands something to do other than reach for Charlie. “It might all come to nothing in the end.”
Charlie leaned back, radiating disappointment. He lowered his eyes to his piece of bread for a moment, then gingerly picked it up and nibbled one corner.
It killed Jonathan to think that he’d disappointed the young man. He had no idea why. He didn’t know Charlie. The young man was new in his life. He was not a part of the world Jonathan had constructed for himself, not a part of his life at all. Why should the downtrodden look on Charlie’s face tie his stomach in knots and make his buttered bread taste like ash.
“I suppose, if nothing else, Brutus’s job would mean a lovely weekend at a country estate,” he said slowly after giving up trying to eat because of the way the bread sat like lead in his stomach. “Have you ever seen the countryside?”
Charlie perked up at once. The flash of fire and hope in his eyes made Jonathan feel as if someone had loosened heavy chains that had been draped around him. Charlie shook his head.
“Then if this thing comes to pass, it would be quite an adventure for you,” he said, smiling.
Charlie smiled back, letting out a breath of relief, his whole body sagging with it.
“We’ll have to see if my father takes the bait, though,” Jonathan cautioned him, reaching for a knife to cut a few slices of cheese. He gave the first one to Charlie, then took the rest for himself. “It may still all come to nothing.”
It probably would. Brutus was underestimating his father’s hatred of him. But a tiny part of Jonathan began to hope that he might be able to do something to make Charlie proud after all.
Chapter Eight
Charlie had never been outside of London before. He’d never been as far away from Bermondsey as Marylebone before Jonathan had saved him. But a fortnight after their first visit to The Zagreus Den, after waking each day with the fear that Jonathan would decide he no longer fancied having Charlie around, assisting with his photography sessions, the two of them boarded a train that whisked them away with heart-stopping speed to an entirely new world called Wiltshire.
“I still cannot comprehend how Brutus arranged this,” Jonathan said as he offered Charlie a hand down from the first-class compartment they’d made the journey in. “I would have wagered impressive money that any suggestions of inviting me to this house party would have been laughed at.”
Charlie had never doubted for a moment that Brutus would manage the arrangement.
He and Jonathan had returned to The Zagreus Den a few days after their initial visit so that Jonathan could give the two brothers his answer about the mission they wished to send him on. They’d arrived in the middle of a casual afternoon. Rather than attending another banquet in the Den’s hall, Brutus and Titus had met them in one of the smaller parlors.
The meeting had been much more casual and friendly than that first luncheon. Valentine had been there to serve, and with a quick wink at Charlie, Charlie had joined him in pouring tea and offering around a plate of cake. He’d been happy to see Valentine again and happy to slip into the role of servant for Jonathan.
Another young man had been in the room with them, naked and kneeling between Brutus and Titus’s chairs. He wore a plain, leather collar around his neck with no chain attached to it, and did not raise his head or look anyone directly in the eyes throughout the entire visit. Brutus and Titus didn’t acknowledge him at all, and after a few, worried looks, neither did Jonathan.
The young man could have been a piece of furniture.
“He’s training,” Valentine had whispered to Charlie at one point, as they’d returned their plates to the table at the side of the room.
Charlie hadn’t been given a chance to ask his new friend what that meant. He had, however, mimicked the naked man’s posture, albeit still clothed, as he took up a spot kneeling beside Jonathan’s chair. Valentine had knelt by the other side of Titus’s chair, so it seemed only right for Charlie to assume the role he wanted so desperately.
If Jonathan had seen anything wrong with what was going on in that room around him, he gave no indication. He’d chatted and laughed with complete ease, answered Brutus and Titus’s questions and asked a few of his own, and generally behaved as if that sort of thing happened to him every day.
But Charlie had started to see the tension in his savior, the contradiction between what his body was saying and what his smiling face and idle conversation hid.
He felt that same underlying unrest at night, when Jonathan took him to bed. Most nights, Jonathan would make love to him, or fuck him, depending on his mood, and Charlie gladly succumbed to whatever his savior wanted. But with those nightsof intimacy, he was beginning to learn a different Jonathan from the one who charmed his clients and teased that he might give Charlie his five shillings and send him on his way in a few days.
That Jonathan drew Charlie in, spoke to his soul. That Jonathan was not Charlie’s superior, he was a fellow sufferer who could not put his pain into words.
That was the Jonathan Charlie wanted so desperately.
