LITMIR.BIZ

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already stepped too far over the mark.’

      They’d certainly taken more of a risk than he cared for. He’d never given up on loving men, but he’d always taken great pains to keep such doings out of sight. It benefited no one to expose that particular part of his persona. What they’d just done constituted lunacy, and this … this current proposition a spell in the asylum.

      ‘I’m not unaware,’ Lyle continued. His eyes remained fixed upon Darleston’s face. ‘You live in public. I know the company you keep, the clubs you frequent. I’ve seen the criticism levelled at your family ever since the Earl took it upon himself to marry a whore. As for your recent problems with Lady Darleston –’ Lyle raked his hand through the long strands of his fair hair, clearly uncomfortable, finally tugging loose the queue holding it in place. Soft fair curls sprang free and hung just shy of his shoulders. ‘I concede that puts you in a precarious position. I trust she can’t prove anything.’

      The only proof of which Lucy was capable was her own wretchedness, and then only because it was apparent the very moment she opened her mouth. Darleston made an irritated swipe at the leaf of a coconut palm before leaning against the grotto wall. ‘I’m not wholly devoid of sense. I never put anything in writing. Also, I trust that any punks that might be rounded up would have the sense to realise their own necks are at stake.’

      ‘Your word would stand against that of a cooper or butcher.’

      ‘Perhaps. Either way it makes sense to lie low.’

      Lyle cocked his head. ‘This would be why you’re attending a prize fight. Because naturally no one at all will spot you or remark upon your presence.’

      Darleston conceded a grin. The situation wasn’t ideal, but at least he wasn’t flaunting his person around town any more. More importantly, he’d stopped playing unwelcome chaperone to Giles and his new bride. He hadn’t specifically come to Field House to watch the fight. Supporting Neddy, his twin, in his role as Mr Hill’s new trainer had merely provided a reason to be here.

      ‘Neddy’s deeply involved,’ he said to justify his presence.

      Lyle continued to smirk and nod. ‘Is that who Hill has brought in as trainer? Ned must have put on some brawn since the last time I saw him.’ He unwound the length of his cravat, let it hang in a loose loop between his hands.

      Darleston gave a quick shake of his head. ‘Not noticeably so, but he’s a good weave and a sharp right hook. I’m told his footwork is good.’

      ‘That’d make sense. Getting his legs in a tangle is Jack’s main downfall. He has a punch like a ton-weight bull, but the nippier boxers just dance around him.’

      ‘Think he’s a chance?’

      ‘Ned or Jack?’

      ‘My brother had better not be going anywhere near the prize ring.’

      ‘So-so. I don’t know much about his opponent. He’s not local. From Welsh stock, I’m told.’

      Lyle cast his cravat aside and undid the ribbon fastening of his shirt. Pale blond hairs pecked provocatively through the opening. The yellow glow of the lamp warmed his skin, giving it a sun-kissed hue. Something about seeing a teasing glimpse of chest hair like that grabbed Darleston straight in the groin. Maybe it was the hint of masculinity or the exposure of all that was wild and was customarily hidden by clothing. They were all beasts when it came down to it. No one remained a gentleman in the heat of passion.

      The bottom of Lyle’s shirt still hung over the top of his breeches from their earlier sport so it was simply a matter of unbuttoning his waistcoat and peeling the layers off to expose him completely.

      ‘Join me.’

      Darleston slipped the top button of his own waistcoat, but paused before unfastening the second. Somehow they’d ventured into territory he was reluctant to retread. There was no question about whether he desired Lyle. He’d always done that. Rather, the problem was Mrs Langley. He saw her pale oval face staring up at him again as the teacup she offered rattled alarmingly upon its saucer. It would destroy her to learn what sort of man her husband truly was – what sort of man he was.

      ‘I can’t do it, Lyle. I just can’t. I’m sorry if I’ve led you on.’ He refastened the button, then bit his lips, wanting to say more, but unable to form the words to make sense of his emotions. It wasn’t only Emma he was trying to protect, but all of them. He’d been hurt too recently to stomach any more pain. The ache of losing Giles was too raw. Lucy and her libellous innuendos had provided a perfect excuse to leave London. But they’d never been his main issue. Besides, she’d stopped making them as soon as she’d realised that the chastisement he chose to dole out wasn’t to her taste. She’d deserved a hiding, but cutting her allowance had silenced her rather more effectively. No, really he was taking in the country air to mend the ache in his chest. He thought he’d understood loneliness before, but not like this. He’d never felt so bereft of friendship as well as love. All his other cronies, the ones he’d hoped to turn to in order to escape the emptiness inside, seemed to be entangled in bereavements of their own

      Of course that was the dilemma of his current situation. Love, of sorts, was exactly what Lyle sat offering. Still, he couldn’t sacrifice Emma Langley’s happiness for his own. There existed hurt enough in her watery blue eyes.

      He hid his face, turning into the shadow. He wasn’t going to compete with a woman for a man’s affections ever again.

      ‘Long term, it’ll never work, and that’s what I’m looking for.’

      Lyle came up behind him. Strong arms encircled his waist, and Lyle’s head rested between his shoulder blades. ‘I never once stopped wanting you. You have to understand that Emma and I, we’re not exactly compatible. We swore to be friends, not lovers.’

      ‘That doesn’t make this right.’

      ‘When were you such a moralist?’ Lyle’s lips brushed the back of his neck, raising shivers. Darleston leaned into the caress, craving more, yet adamant that he wouldn’t capitulate.

      ‘I can feel your pulse, your tension, smell your desire. Why resist, Robert? No one’s going to know. Don’t think so hard about the future.’

      ‘I can’t risk hurting her like that.’

      ‘My wife? Why does she matter to you? Why so concerned about her and not your own?’

      He shook Lyle off. ‘To hell with Lucy! Because Emma has done nothing to hurt me. She’s been a kind and gracious hostess.’ And he didn’t want to compete with a woman. Not again. Not after he’d lost so spectacularly. Not that he’d ever had a chance with Giles. His friend simply wasn’t constructed that way.

      ‘We’ve never …’ Lyle hesitated. His teeth dug into his lower lip. ‘Our marriage, it’s never been consummated.’ He retreated into the deeper darkness of the grotto, leaving Darleston staring at his back in confusion.

      ‘How is that? Do you mean you’ve never been to her bed? Lyle, how is that even possible? Aren’t you sharing a room in this house? I don’t understand.’ He’d never wanted Lucy, but he’d visited her bed once a month for the last nine years. Give or take. One had to make the pretence of wanting issue, regardless of his actual wishes. The fact that he’d sometimes paid his twin to go in his stead wasn’t something he liked to make public.

      ‘I’ve no wish to embarrass myself,’ Lyle confessed, his voice muted and hesitant. ‘Nor have I any wish to engage in such an act. I’ve no desire in that regard. Women are rather like porcelain dolls. I can admire their crafting, but I have no desire to possess such a thing. There was mutual benefit to be had from the arrangement. I’m hardly the first man to seek the security of marriage as a mask for my proclivities. Society asks fewer questions if you offer them the illusion of normality.’

      While Darleston’s own preference was for men, he’d spent many evenings equally at home between a woman’s thighs. At least there seemed to be some degree of affection

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