Velvet Petals, Piercing Thorns - Chapter Three, Part One
Title: Velvet Petals, Piercing Thorns - Chapter Three (Prologue+3/?)
Media: Fic
Author: a_glass_parade with reader beta duties provided by mothergoddamn, bless her pretty face.
Rating: Rated R - yes, you heard me, we're at R now.
Pairing: Klaine endgame, bumps along the way.
Genre: Romance, AU, Historical Fiction
Warnings:: This is essentially a romance novel set in a violent time. There will be, throughout the story, sexual liaisons between men, murder, torture, and thoughts and words that we would these days consider to be terribly politically incorrect.
Spoilers: While events and references from both seasons of Glee may be adapted and worked into the story occasionally, it's otherwise fully AU.
Word Count: Story: 17,300+ This Chapter: 6400+ Two parts because LJ says I got wordy.
Summary: England, 1484: The forces of Lancaster see Edward Blaine Anderson, Viscount Dalton, as key to their plans to retake and hold the throne of England. The House of York has come to the same conclusion and they want to stop that from happening. Their secret weapon will be Kurt Hummel, stableman's son and reluctant spy.
Additional Notes: It is the evening of Lady Amelia Freville's birthday ball, and Blaine has a lot on his mind.
Chapter Three, Part One
Alice Beaufort disliked several things, but at this particular moment in time there were two very specific things of which she was not fond: being kept waiting, and having to shout up the stairs.
“Edward. Blaine. Anderson.” Her voice carried clearly up to the Viscount's chambers, causing Blaine and Thad to freeze where they stood. A slightly awkward situation, that, given that Thad had been bent at his waist, caught in the middle of lacing Blaine's hose to his doublet.
“Thad.”
“Yes, my Lord?”
“I'm not quite comfortable with the current proximity of your hands and head to my...er...” Blaine nodded in the general direction of where his lap would be, were he sitting down. His cheeks were burning brightly red, and he couldn't look Thad in the eyes.
“Oh!” The valet still seemed frozen, his fingers tangled in the laces.
Blaine heaved a gusty sigh. “Thad. Sometime this evening, if you will?”
Thad shook himself and resumed his work.“Yes. Sorry.” Once he was moving, the lacing was completed in fairly short order and he backed away. “There. Excellent. Now for the finish.” He turned to reach for a gold and black coat that had been neatly laid out on the bed. Blaine moved to the door of his chambers and opened it, leaning out to call down to Alice.
“I'll be right down, Aunt Alice! I'm so sorry!” Returning to his place in the center of the room, he extended his arms to allow the velvet and satin garment to be slipped on and belted around his waist. “You know I hate to keep her waiting,” he complained. “It's ridiculous that I should take longer to prepare for Amelia's ball than she did! You are far, far too fussy about my appearance.”
“She began her toilette earlier.” Thad tugged and arranged the loose pleats of the coat in a visually appealing way, refusing to be cowed. “I told you to go upstairs when she did, but you wanted to finish your chess game with Wesley. 'One more turn,' you kept saying.”
“I know, I do kno - ”
“And now here you are, half-dressed with your aunt shouting up the stairs as if you were a stripling boy all over again. It is, sir, entirely your own fault. Boots.” He leaned down to pick up a pair of black, knee-high leather boots, shoving them towards his master with an indignant sniff.
“I'm not half dressed,” Blaine grumbled, accepting the footwear and taking a seat in one of the chairs by the window. “Once I've got these on, I shall go downstairs.” He looked up at the valet, who was brandishing a large comb. “And not another word about my hair, Thad. We've done all that we can.”
“It's a complete nest, sir.” Thad could get awfully cruel with his commentary at times, Blaine thought, wounded.
“It's perfectly fine,” he snapped. “I can't help it that there's so much of it.”
“Why you had to get the Beaufort hair rather than the Anderson...” The valet tucked the comb he'd been prepared to wield back into his beltpouch, a mournful expression on his face. “It's a good thing that Lady Amelia likes it.”
“It makes no difference to me whether or not Amelia likes it,” Blaine replied irritably, struggling with his first boot. “It's my hair.” His foot finally settled into the foot of the boot abruptly, jamming his toes painfully against the cap. He winced and wiggled experimentally. Ah. They'd be fine. He turned his attentions to the second boot, not noticing the dark expression that had come to settle over Thad's face until he glanced up to see why his friend wasn't laughing.
Thad was looking down at his empty, twisting hands, his voice coming out in a low mutter. “You should marry her while she still thinks it's handsome. You should just...marry her, Blaine.”
Blaine froze again, hands stilled in the act of pulling on the second boot. He flicked his eyes to meet Thad's, feeling his face go utterly blank.“Is there a particular reason you're saying that, Thad?”
The valet met his gaze only briefly before tearing away again. “I think it's a good idea.”
It was getting difficult to speak. Blaine had to force the words out, had to force his hands to move again and keep working on the boot. “No, Thad. It's not - Amelia isn't like that. To me. You know that.”
Thad's eyes, when he looked up again, were darkened with concern. He sucked in deep breath, knowing he'd crossed a line. “I do know.”
“And you know why.” With effort, Blaine swallowed down the lump in his throat and began again to tug at the boot. He broke eye contact, unable to look at his friend. “Of all people, you know.”
Three words, repeated, low and worried. “I do know.” And then - “It's for your safety, Blaine.”
He got to his feet. “I won't do that to Amelia. She deserves better than...” Trailing off, he snatched up his hat and stalked out of the room, boots thumping down the stairs, communicating his irritation to the entire household.
Thad had broken their cardinal unspoken rule. We do not discuss this. A pact he and his three closest Advisors had made when he was sixteen and realized he would never marry, that he did not want to marry, because -
No. We do not discuss this.
He arrived at the foot of the stairs under Alice's tolerant, slightly icy glare. Thad had been right - he felt as though he were his awkward twelve year old self once again, all cracking voice and disheveled clothing. The good thing about the awkwardness, however, was that it was slowly burning away his anger at his friend. Blaine bowed to his beloved aunt. “I do apologize, Aunt. Please, please forgive me.”
“Have I ever not forgiven you, Edward?” She sighed and kissed his cheek. “You look quite handsome. Unfortunate Beaufort hair and all.”
A grin spread across his face despite the reminder of his all too recent uncomfortable conversation. “I am quite fond of my unfortunate Beaufort hair, thank you. And at any rate, you have it as well and I never see you complain.”
“Correct, love. You never see me complain.” Alice tugged at one of her own dark curls, peeping out from beneath a genuinely impressive headdress. An impish smile turned up her lips. “Now, do come along and escort your doddering old aunt to the ball of the year.”
“One may call you many things, Aunt, but doddering and old are hardly on that list.” He extended his arm for her to take. “I take it the carriage is ready?”
“It has been for some time. We're going to be late, you know.” Her tone was both indulgent and chiding as she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and pinched playfully.
He winced. “I'm so sorry, Aunt. I will make it up to you.”
“You already have,” the Baroness replied airily, waving a free hand to indicate her gown. “Thank you for my ensemble.”
“You assumed I'd be late?” Blaine cast an appraising eye over the cloth of gold gown, trimmed and embroidered in black satin. No wonder Thad had put him in this doublet and cloak; he had to have been involved in the gown selection. “Just how late did you think I would be?”
“Late enough. Do I look quite fetching for an aging widow?” Alice tilted her head and batted her eyelashes in mock coquetry.
Blaine rolled his eyes at his aunt. “Aunt Alice, you would look fetching for a young girl in the bloom of first love. You needn't fish for praise.”
“No, but it is quite entertaining, and you do give the best compliments, Edward.” They arrived in the courtyard where their carriage awaited, horses stamping impatiently to be off. One of the pages held the carriage door open so that Blaine could hand his aunt up into it, following behind and sitting to face her. They braced themselves on the seats as the coachman shouted the horses into motion. “Did Wesley select an appropriate gift for Amelia?”
“Yes, Aunt.” His Steward had come through with a pretty little illuminated songbook, the companion to one Blaine already owned and that he and Amelia often sang from. She would like having her own copy, he thought. “Her own copy of our songbook.”
Alice tilted up one dark eyebrow. “Hm. Well, it's not jewelry, but even so...Edward, are you sure that's quite wise? Many of those are love songs. Are you quite certain you've no intentions towards Amelia?”
He looked out of the window of the carriage, feeling his mouth tighten. Not Alice, too. “You know that I haven't.”
His aunt sighed, and he turned his head back to see just a glimmer of her eyes in the twilit evening. They were sad and worried, as they always were when their conversations wandered this unpleasant way. “Edward...must it be...”
Blaine glanced away. “I know no other way for it to be, Aunt. I will not put myself nor Amelia through it. That's the end of it.”
We do not discuss this.
The rest of the carriage ride was spent in silence. Better silence than to further disappoint his aunt, who, like his friends, knew why Blaine did not wish to marry Amelia. She only pushed out of love and concern, he knew, not because she was disappointed with him or in him. She wanted what she thought was best for him, as she always had.
“You're so young,” Alice said unexpectedly as they approached Crawford Keep. “You think you're invincible.”
“I'm under no such illusions, Aunt Alice.” He crossed his arms across his chest, knowing where she was leading. Thad he could stop in his tracks, but Alice tended to follow a point like a hound hunting the scent of a fox. She was nearly impossible to shake off when she truly got her wind up.
“People can talk. They can find out, and they can talk. You can be ruined, Edward.” She bit her lip as she plucked at her skirts. “I would not like to see you as the object of malicious gossip...or worse.”
He sighed and moved to sit beside her, clasping her small hands in his. “I know. Nor do I wish your name dragged through the mud with mine.” His mouth firmed with resolve. “That's why there will be no one, ever. It's perfectly acceptable to be a bachelor, you know. I can always adopt or foster an heir, when I feel ready. But I won't court any woman, won't marry one I can't properly be a husband to, and I won't...I'm not going to...” Blaine ducked his head. “There will be no one.”
That seemed to distress Alice even more, and she pulled one hand free to flit it worriedly around his hair, cup his cheek, pull him close for a hug. “Edward, Edward, you should not have to live such a lonely life, either. I want so much more for you. You deserve so much more.”
Blaine captured her fluttering hand and brought it back to her lap. “Aunt Alice. I have so much already. I can forgo companionship. It seems a small price to pay to ensure that we are safe. That you are safe. Your safety and good reputation is of paramount importance to me. You're all the family I have. I won't risk that.” He lifted her hand back up and pressed a kiss to the back of it. She tugged her hand free and wrapped her arms around him, embracing him tightly..
“You are my joy and the son of my heart, Edward. I wish for more for you because I love you.”
He smiled. “I know.” Glancing out of the carriage window, he saw that they were pulling in to the courtyard at Crawford. “At last, here we are. Do you suppose you're ready for a night of slapping old man Crawford's wandering fingers away?”
“Edward, you naughty boy.” Alice swatted at the back of his head. “I raised you better than that.”
“You did,” he agreed. “But boys will be boys. Out you get!” He hopped down through the carriage door that Crawford's footman had pulled open, turning to assist his aunt to the ground. “Shall we?”
“Absolutely, my darling.” But her bright smile as she took his arm was still faintly ghosted with the regrets she felt for him, and not for the first time in his life, Blaine wondered why things couldn't be as neat and tidy as they should have been.
~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~
He'd been thirteen the first time it happened.
Blaine had awoken from the dream of himself, sweaty and tangled in the arms of another man, and he'd panicked. The sheets were warm and damp with the evidence of his spent dream-lust, his head was spinning, and he didn't understand.
He'd thought he was supposed to dream about girls. Women. Young ladies. Not men.
Mortified, he'd stripped his bed of its linens and shredded the sheets with his dagger, carefully feeding the strips of cloth one by one into the fire until they were all gone. He'd tiptoed down the dark hall with only a tiny candle to guide him, finding where Emma kept the clean bedding, and pulling out enough sheets to remake his bed as silently as possible. Later, when the housekeeper wondered aloud why she was short a set of sheets in her monthly inventory, he'd just shrugged and told her that he thought she worried too much.
At fifteen, he'd kissed two people: Amelia and Thad.
Kissing Amelia had been nice, he supposed. She was pretty, and she always smelled like flowers. They'd been in the music room at Crawford, singing together - his voice had recently broken, and he was getting used to the new way he sounded.
He remembered that Amelia had been wearing royal blue satin, her blonde curls spilling over her shoulders and gleaming richly against the fabric of her dress. Her skin was the perfect English rose and cream that was so vaunted, her lips pink and full. She was so, so pretty, and that prettiness was not exciting Blaine at all. He appreciated it, and liked to look at her, but that was all.
Still, he had continued to have his confusing dreams for the last two years, and he had finally decided to sort himself out once and for all, to see for himself what he wanted.
So he'd sidled up next to Amelia, had taken her hand in his and pulled her close to him, had leaned in slowly and pressed his lips to hers. She'd been surprised, her blue eyes widening before she leaned into the kiss, breath sharp through her nose as her eyelids fluttered shut.
It had meant so much more to her than it had to him. It was nice, that was all. Not offensive, but not exciting or passionate or anything he'd heard his father's armsmen discussing.
When it was Thad's turn, everything, everything was different.
They were friends then, though he'd already let Wes, David, and Thad know that they would have important, trusted positions as his Advisors when he attained his majority. But friends, now, so they frequently went about together, riding, boxing, sparring...swimming.
David and Wes were busy with lessons when he and Thad went down to the small, clear lake on Dalton's grounds. Alone. Which was something that had never mattered before now, before the dreams, before kissing Amelia had been nothing more than a pleasant way to spend five minutes of a sunny afternoon.
He'd chosen Thad out of his three trusted companions because David was too rough and Wes was too sharp around the edges somehow, but Thad was kind and good natured. It felt like the right thing to do, most especially so when they disrobed to go swimming and Blaine felt his groin tighten at the sight of Thad's surprisingly leanly muscled body.
A flash of fear coursed through him at the thought of what he was about to do, but he ignored it and strode over to his friend, reaching up before he could think too much, pulling the older boy's head down, opening his mouth under the surprised 'O' that Thad's lips suddenly made. He gasped as their lips made contact, rocked under the force of the lightning strike that shot through him from his head to his toes. When Thad fisted a hand in Blaine's curls and dragged him even closer, let his tongue dive down into Blaine's mouth and explore the softness there - Blaine nearly came undone then.
He held on, though, held on long enough to be wrestled down to the cool, green grass and brought to a sloppy, inexpert climax by Thad's warm mouth. Blaine gasped out his uncontrollable joy under the English sunshine, reveling in the bruising grip of Thad's fingers at the backs of his thighs, the feel of the other boy's mouth and hands on his cock beyond anything he could ever have imagined. Blaine's hands clenched at handfuls of waving grass as he came, hips arching upward, his entire body tightening like a bowstring before relaxing into a sun-warmed and passion-spent jumble of limbs as he returned to earth.
When he opened his eyes again, Blaine saw only Thad, leaning over him in the sunshine with a shy, questioning smile. He grabbed wildly at his friend again, pulling him down for more kisses and then, slowly and with caution, he repaid the favor of pleasure to the best of his ability. Tentatively, he traced the landscape of Thad's body with his lips and tongue, taking tiny nips and bites on his journey south before closing his own mouth around the other boy's straining member. Groaning low in his throat, lips stretched around the warm, velvety firmness of his trusted friend, Blaine thrilled at the feel of his hair being pulled when Thad lost all control and reached his peak with a broken moan, spilling himself down Blaine's throat.
They did eventually get around to swimming, but it took them quite a long time.
This, then, was how it was supposed to feel, where a kiss was supposed to lead. He knew what the Church had to say about it and he found, with the headstrong stubbornness of youth, that he didn't care, that he'd walk across coals of fire to feel that lightning strike again. And so Blaine and Thad were virtually inseparable for a very long time after that, nights spent together learning everything about each other's bodies, touches and caresses and kisses, heat and sweat and sex, each boy growing more proficient in his knowledge of the other until they didn't know where one ended and the other began.
That they had remained friends after Alice and Amelia caught them in the linen closet, Blaine on his knees fellating Thad, the older boy bracing himself against the shelves, both of them blind and deaf with lust - well, it had been nothing short of a miracle. The women had been surprisingly understanding, but firm. It had to end.
“I don't mind that you don't want to marry me, Blaine,” Amelia had told him, her eyes wide and earnest with concern. “You're one of my best friends, I love you no matter what. But the Church says it isn't right...you must be good. Don't you want to go to Heaven?”
I thought I already had, he wanted to retort, but refrained because he knew she meant well and didn't understand.
Alice was unconcerned about the Church, and more concerned about his reputation. “I don't believe it's wrong, love,” she'd told him, wringing her hands. “But other people do, and it is they about whom you must be concerned. Your reputation can be made or destroyed on the back of idle gossip. You're too young to be ruined.”
“It's absolutely ridiculous,” he had protested. “The privacy of my bedchamber should remain mine. And it isn't as if I can put Thad up the pole.”
If his aunt was startled by his crudeness, she didn't show it. She kept a steady gaze on him as she spoke. “And yet the privacy of anyone's bedroom is not theirs alone, it never has been, and they won't care that there'd be no illegitimate children from you. They would rather you sow a crop of bastards than be caught with a man, Edward. You're too young to understand the ramifications. I love you, my darling, but this cannot go on.”
She had been firm, unyielding. Thad would be allowed to stay, but their affair was over.
It was then that he spoke with all three of them, admitting to David and Wes what he and Thad had done, had been to each other. They had been understanding and accepting. Everyone had been understanding and accepting, so much so that Blaine couldn't understand why it would be such a problem if he just did what he wanted.
But his friends were in accordance with Alice and Amelia. They loved Blaine, they didn't care who he was with, but they knew other people would and they did not want him hurt or ruined. It was with regret that Thad kissed him one last time, the strike of lightning dimmed by melancholy, and whispered that he would never forget what they'd had.
It had hurt, so much, and he supposed that this, too, was where a kiss was supposed to lead. He could have done without it. That was when he vowed - no one else. Ever. He would never marry, because he did not want to cause any woman the pain that he felt then, the pain that he knew he would cause no matter how gently he rejected her.
And since his reputation was so very important, he'd snapped bitterly, he would never jeopardize it by laying with another man ever again, either.
Then he made them all vow to never discuss it, ever.
On To Part Two...
Media: Fic
Author: a_glass_parade with reader beta duties provided by mothergoddamn, bless her pretty face.
Rating: Rated R - yes, you heard me, we're at R now.
Pairing: Klaine endgame, bumps along the way.
Genre: Romance, AU, Historical Fiction
Warnings:: This is essentially a romance novel set in a violent time. There will be, throughout the story, sexual liaisons between men, murder, torture, and thoughts and words that we would these days consider to be terribly politically incorrect.
Spoilers: While events and references from both seasons of Glee may be adapted and worked into the story occasionally, it's otherwise fully AU.
Word Count: Story: 17,300+ This Chapter: 6400+ Two parts because LJ says I got wordy.
Summary: England, 1484: The forces of Lancaster see Edward Blaine Anderson, Viscount Dalton, as key to their plans to retake and hold the throne of England. The House of York has come to the same conclusion and they want to stop that from happening. Their secret weapon will be Kurt Hummel, stableman's son and reluctant spy.
Additional Notes: It is the evening of Lady Amelia Freville's birthday ball, and Blaine has a lot on his mind.
Chapter Three, Part One
Alice Beaufort disliked several things, but at this particular moment in time there were two very specific things of which she was not fond: being kept waiting, and having to shout up the stairs.
“Edward. Blaine. Anderson.” Her voice carried clearly up to the Viscount's chambers, causing Blaine and Thad to freeze where they stood. A slightly awkward situation, that, given that Thad had been bent at his waist, caught in the middle of lacing Blaine's hose to his doublet.
“Thad.”
“Yes, my Lord?”
“I'm not quite comfortable with the current proximity of your hands and head to my...er...” Blaine nodded in the general direction of where his lap would be, were he sitting down. His cheeks were burning brightly red, and he couldn't look Thad in the eyes.
“Oh!” The valet still seemed frozen, his fingers tangled in the laces.
Blaine heaved a gusty sigh. “Thad. Sometime this evening, if you will?”
Thad shook himself and resumed his work.“Yes. Sorry.” Once he was moving, the lacing was completed in fairly short order and he backed away. “There. Excellent. Now for the finish.” He turned to reach for a gold and black coat that had been neatly laid out on the bed. Blaine moved to the door of his chambers and opened it, leaning out to call down to Alice.
“I'll be right down, Aunt Alice! I'm so sorry!” Returning to his place in the center of the room, he extended his arms to allow the velvet and satin garment to be slipped on and belted around his waist. “You know I hate to keep her waiting,” he complained. “It's ridiculous that I should take longer to prepare for Amelia's ball than she did! You are far, far too fussy about my appearance.”
“She began her toilette earlier.” Thad tugged and arranged the loose pleats of the coat in a visually appealing way, refusing to be cowed. “I told you to go upstairs when she did, but you wanted to finish your chess game with Wesley. 'One more turn,' you kept saying.”
“I know, I do kno - ”
“And now here you are, half-dressed with your aunt shouting up the stairs as if you were a stripling boy all over again. It is, sir, entirely your own fault. Boots.” He leaned down to pick up a pair of black, knee-high leather boots, shoving them towards his master with an indignant sniff.
“I'm not half dressed,” Blaine grumbled, accepting the footwear and taking a seat in one of the chairs by the window. “Once I've got these on, I shall go downstairs.” He looked up at the valet, who was brandishing a large comb. “And not another word about my hair, Thad. We've done all that we can.”
“It's a complete nest, sir.” Thad could get awfully cruel with his commentary at times, Blaine thought, wounded.
“It's perfectly fine,” he snapped. “I can't help it that there's so much of it.”
“Why you had to get the Beaufort hair rather than the Anderson...” The valet tucked the comb he'd been prepared to wield back into his beltpouch, a mournful expression on his face. “It's a good thing that Lady Amelia likes it.”
“It makes no difference to me whether or not Amelia likes it,” Blaine replied irritably, struggling with his first boot. “It's my hair.” His foot finally settled into the foot of the boot abruptly, jamming his toes painfully against the cap. He winced and wiggled experimentally. Ah. They'd be fine. He turned his attentions to the second boot, not noticing the dark expression that had come to settle over Thad's face until he glanced up to see why his friend wasn't laughing.
Thad was looking down at his empty, twisting hands, his voice coming out in a low mutter. “You should marry her while she still thinks it's handsome. You should just...marry her, Blaine.”
Blaine froze again, hands stilled in the act of pulling on the second boot. He flicked his eyes to meet Thad's, feeling his face go utterly blank.“Is there a particular reason you're saying that, Thad?”
The valet met his gaze only briefly before tearing away again. “I think it's a good idea.”
It was getting difficult to speak. Blaine had to force the words out, had to force his hands to move again and keep working on the boot. “No, Thad. It's not - Amelia isn't like that. To me. You know that.”
Thad's eyes, when he looked up again, were darkened with concern. He sucked in deep breath, knowing he'd crossed a line. “I do know.”
“And you know why.” With effort, Blaine swallowed down the lump in his throat and began again to tug at the boot. He broke eye contact, unable to look at his friend. “Of all people, you know.”
Three words, repeated, low and worried. “I do know.” And then - “It's for your safety, Blaine.”
He got to his feet. “I won't do that to Amelia. She deserves better than...” Trailing off, he snatched up his hat and stalked out of the room, boots thumping down the stairs, communicating his irritation to the entire household.
Thad had broken their cardinal unspoken rule. We do not discuss this. A pact he and his three closest Advisors had made when he was sixteen and realized he would never marry, that he did not want to marry, because -
No. We do not discuss this.
He arrived at the foot of the stairs under Alice's tolerant, slightly icy glare. Thad had been right - he felt as though he were his awkward twelve year old self once again, all cracking voice and disheveled clothing. The good thing about the awkwardness, however, was that it was slowly burning away his anger at his friend. Blaine bowed to his beloved aunt. “I do apologize, Aunt. Please, please forgive me.”
“Have I ever not forgiven you, Edward?” She sighed and kissed his cheek. “You look quite handsome. Unfortunate Beaufort hair and all.”
A grin spread across his face despite the reminder of his all too recent uncomfortable conversation. “I am quite fond of my unfortunate Beaufort hair, thank you. And at any rate, you have it as well and I never see you complain.”
“Correct, love. You never see me complain.” Alice tugged at one of her own dark curls, peeping out from beneath a genuinely impressive headdress. An impish smile turned up her lips. “Now, do come along and escort your doddering old aunt to the ball of the year.”
“One may call you many things, Aunt, but doddering and old are hardly on that list.” He extended his arm for her to take. “I take it the carriage is ready?”
“It has been for some time. We're going to be late, you know.” Her tone was both indulgent and chiding as she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and pinched playfully.
He winced. “I'm so sorry, Aunt. I will make it up to you.”
“You already have,” the Baroness replied airily, waving a free hand to indicate her gown. “Thank you for my ensemble.”
“You assumed I'd be late?” Blaine cast an appraising eye over the cloth of gold gown, trimmed and embroidered in black satin. No wonder Thad had put him in this doublet and cloak; he had to have been involved in the gown selection. “Just how late did you think I would be?”
“Late enough. Do I look quite fetching for an aging widow?” Alice tilted her head and batted her eyelashes in mock coquetry.
Blaine rolled his eyes at his aunt. “Aunt Alice, you would look fetching for a young girl in the bloom of first love. You needn't fish for praise.”
“No, but it is quite entertaining, and you do give the best compliments, Edward.” They arrived in the courtyard where their carriage awaited, horses stamping impatiently to be off. One of the pages held the carriage door open so that Blaine could hand his aunt up into it, following behind and sitting to face her. They braced themselves on the seats as the coachman shouted the horses into motion. “Did Wesley select an appropriate gift for Amelia?”
“Yes, Aunt.” His Steward had come through with a pretty little illuminated songbook, the companion to one Blaine already owned and that he and Amelia often sang from. She would like having her own copy, he thought. “Her own copy of our songbook.”
Alice tilted up one dark eyebrow. “Hm. Well, it's not jewelry, but even so...Edward, are you sure that's quite wise? Many of those are love songs. Are you quite certain you've no intentions towards Amelia?”
He looked out of the window of the carriage, feeling his mouth tighten. Not Alice, too. “You know that I haven't.”
His aunt sighed, and he turned his head back to see just a glimmer of her eyes in the twilit evening. They were sad and worried, as they always were when their conversations wandered this unpleasant way. “Edward...must it be...”
Blaine glanced away. “I know no other way for it to be, Aunt. I will not put myself nor Amelia through it. That's the end of it.”
We do not discuss this.
The rest of the carriage ride was spent in silence. Better silence than to further disappoint his aunt, who, like his friends, knew why Blaine did not wish to marry Amelia. She only pushed out of love and concern, he knew, not because she was disappointed with him or in him. She wanted what she thought was best for him, as she always had.
“You're so young,” Alice said unexpectedly as they approached Crawford Keep. “You think you're invincible.”
“I'm under no such illusions, Aunt Alice.” He crossed his arms across his chest, knowing where she was leading. Thad he could stop in his tracks, but Alice tended to follow a point like a hound hunting the scent of a fox. She was nearly impossible to shake off when she truly got her wind up.
“People can talk. They can find out, and they can talk. You can be ruined, Edward.” She bit her lip as she plucked at her skirts. “I would not like to see you as the object of malicious gossip...or worse.”
He sighed and moved to sit beside her, clasping her small hands in his. “I know. Nor do I wish your name dragged through the mud with mine.” His mouth firmed with resolve. “That's why there will be no one, ever. It's perfectly acceptable to be a bachelor, you know. I can always adopt or foster an heir, when I feel ready. But I won't court any woman, won't marry one I can't properly be a husband to, and I won't...I'm not going to...” Blaine ducked his head. “There will be no one.”
That seemed to distress Alice even more, and she pulled one hand free to flit it worriedly around his hair, cup his cheek, pull him close for a hug. “Edward, Edward, you should not have to live such a lonely life, either. I want so much more for you. You deserve so much more.”
Blaine captured her fluttering hand and brought it back to her lap. “Aunt Alice. I have so much already. I can forgo companionship. It seems a small price to pay to ensure that we are safe. That you are safe. Your safety and good reputation is of paramount importance to me. You're all the family I have. I won't risk that.” He lifted her hand back up and pressed a kiss to the back of it. She tugged her hand free and wrapped her arms around him, embracing him tightly..
“You are my joy and the son of my heart, Edward. I wish for more for you because I love you.”
He smiled. “I know.” Glancing out of the carriage window, he saw that they were pulling in to the courtyard at Crawford. “At last, here we are. Do you suppose you're ready for a night of slapping old man Crawford's wandering fingers away?”
“Edward, you naughty boy.” Alice swatted at the back of his head. “I raised you better than that.”
“You did,” he agreed. “But boys will be boys. Out you get!” He hopped down through the carriage door that Crawford's footman had pulled open, turning to assist his aunt to the ground. “Shall we?”
“Absolutely, my darling.” But her bright smile as she took his arm was still faintly ghosted with the regrets she felt for him, and not for the first time in his life, Blaine wondered why things couldn't be as neat and tidy as they should have been.
~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~
He'd been thirteen the first time it happened.
Blaine had awoken from the dream of himself, sweaty and tangled in the arms of another man, and he'd panicked. The sheets were warm and damp with the evidence of his spent dream-lust, his head was spinning, and he didn't understand.
He'd thought he was supposed to dream about girls. Women. Young ladies. Not men.
Mortified, he'd stripped his bed of its linens and shredded the sheets with his dagger, carefully feeding the strips of cloth one by one into the fire until they were all gone. He'd tiptoed down the dark hall with only a tiny candle to guide him, finding where Emma kept the clean bedding, and pulling out enough sheets to remake his bed as silently as possible. Later, when the housekeeper wondered aloud why she was short a set of sheets in her monthly inventory, he'd just shrugged and told her that he thought she worried too much.
At fifteen, he'd kissed two people: Amelia and Thad.
Kissing Amelia had been nice, he supposed. She was pretty, and she always smelled like flowers. They'd been in the music room at Crawford, singing together - his voice had recently broken, and he was getting used to the new way he sounded.
He remembered that Amelia had been wearing royal blue satin, her blonde curls spilling over her shoulders and gleaming richly against the fabric of her dress. Her skin was the perfect English rose and cream that was so vaunted, her lips pink and full. She was so, so pretty, and that prettiness was not exciting Blaine at all. He appreciated it, and liked to look at her, but that was all.
Still, he had continued to have his confusing dreams for the last two years, and he had finally decided to sort himself out once and for all, to see for himself what he wanted.
So he'd sidled up next to Amelia, had taken her hand in his and pulled her close to him, had leaned in slowly and pressed his lips to hers. She'd been surprised, her blue eyes widening before she leaned into the kiss, breath sharp through her nose as her eyelids fluttered shut.
It had meant so much more to her than it had to him. It was nice, that was all. Not offensive, but not exciting or passionate or anything he'd heard his father's armsmen discussing.
When it was Thad's turn, everything, everything was different.
They were friends then, though he'd already let Wes, David, and Thad know that they would have important, trusted positions as his Advisors when he attained his majority. But friends, now, so they frequently went about together, riding, boxing, sparring...swimming.
David and Wes were busy with lessons when he and Thad went down to the small, clear lake on Dalton's grounds. Alone. Which was something that had never mattered before now, before the dreams, before kissing Amelia had been nothing more than a pleasant way to spend five minutes of a sunny afternoon.
He'd chosen Thad out of his three trusted companions because David was too rough and Wes was too sharp around the edges somehow, but Thad was kind and good natured. It felt like the right thing to do, most especially so when they disrobed to go swimming and Blaine felt his groin tighten at the sight of Thad's surprisingly leanly muscled body.
A flash of fear coursed through him at the thought of what he was about to do, but he ignored it and strode over to his friend, reaching up before he could think too much, pulling the older boy's head down, opening his mouth under the surprised 'O' that Thad's lips suddenly made. He gasped as their lips made contact, rocked under the force of the lightning strike that shot through him from his head to his toes. When Thad fisted a hand in Blaine's curls and dragged him even closer, let his tongue dive down into Blaine's mouth and explore the softness there - Blaine nearly came undone then.
He held on, though, held on long enough to be wrestled down to the cool, green grass and brought to a sloppy, inexpert climax by Thad's warm mouth. Blaine gasped out his uncontrollable joy under the English sunshine, reveling in the bruising grip of Thad's fingers at the backs of his thighs, the feel of the other boy's mouth and hands on his cock beyond anything he could ever have imagined. Blaine's hands clenched at handfuls of waving grass as he came, hips arching upward, his entire body tightening like a bowstring before relaxing into a sun-warmed and passion-spent jumble of limbs as he returned to earth.
When he opened his eyes again, Blaine saw only Thad, leaning over him in the sunshine with a shy, questioning smile. He grabbed wildly at his friend again, pulling him down for more kisses and then, slowly and with caution, he repaid the favor of pleasure to the best of his ability. Tentatively, he traced the landscape of Thad's body with his lips and tongue, taking tiny nips and bites on his journey south before closing his own mouth around the other boy's straining member. Groaning low in his throat, lips stretched around the warm, velvety firmness of his trusted friend, Blaine thrilled at the feel of his hair being pulled when Thad lost all control and reached his peak with a broken moan, spilling himself down Blaine's throat.
They did eventually get around to swimming, but it took them quite a long time.
This, then, was how it was supposed to feel, where a kiss was supposed to lead. He knew what the Church had to say about it and he found, with the headstrong stubbornness of youth, that he didn't care, that he'd walk across coals of fire to feel that lightning strike again. And so Blaine and Thad were virtually inseparable for a very long time after that, nights spent together learning everything about each other's bodies, touches and caresses and kisses, heat and sweat and sex, each boy growing more proficient in his knowledge of the other until they didn't know where one ended and the other began.
That they had remained friends after Alice and Amelia caught them in the linen closet, Blaine on his knees fellating Thad, the older boy bracing himself against the shelves, both of them blind and deaf with lust - well, it had been nothing short of a miracle. The women had been surprisingly understanding, but firm. It had to end.
“I don't mind that you don't want to marry me, Blaine,” Amelia had told him, her eyes wide and earnest with concern. “You're one of my best friends, I love you no matter what. But the Church says it isn't right...you must be good. Don't you want to go to Heaven?”
I thought I already had, he wanted to retort, but refrained because he knew she meant well and didn't understand.
Alice was unconcerned about the Church, and more concerned about his reputation. “I don't believe it's wrong, love,” she'd told him, wringing her hands. “But other people do, and it is they about whom you must be concerned. Your reputation can be made or destroyed on the back of idle gossip. You're too young to be ruined.”
“It's absolutely ridiculous,” he had protested. “The privacy of my bedchamber should remain mine. And it isn't as if I can put Thad up the pole.”
If his aunt was startled by his crudeness, she didn't show it. She kept a steady gaze on him as she spoke. “And yet the privacy of anyone's bedroom is not theirs alone, it never has been, and they won't care that there'd be no illegitimate children from you. They would rather you sow a crop of bastards than be caught with a man, Edward. You're too young to understand the ramifications. I love you, my darling, but this cannot go on.”
She had been firm, unyielding. Thad would be allowed to stay, but their affair was over.
It was then that he spoke with all three of them, admitting to David and Wes what he and Thad had done, had been to each other. They had been understanding and accepting. Everyone had been understanding and accepting, so much so that Blaine couldn't understand why it would be such a problem if he just did what he wanted.
But his friends were in accordance with Alice and Amelia. They loved Blaine, they didn't care who he was with, but they knew other people would and they did not want him hurt or ruined. It was with regret that Thad kissed him one last time, the strike of lightning dimmed by melancholy, and whispered that he would never forget what they'd had.
It had hurt, so much, and he supposed that this, too, was where a kiss was supposed to lead. He could have done without it. That was when he vowed - no one else. Ever. He would never marry, because he did not want to cause any woman the pain that he felt then, the pain that he knew he would cause no matter how gently he rejected her.
And since his reputation was so very important, he'd snapped bitterly, he would never jeopardize it by laying with another man ever again, either.
Then he made them all vow to never discuss it, ever.
On To Part Two...