Henry couldn’t suppress a chuckle of his own at that, but his amusement warred with embarrassment over his own gaucheness. At his age, he should not need to ask such questions.
Corbett said, “Were you ever curious about it? Before now, I mean.”
“Yes, I suppose so, but I assumed—” He broke off.
Corbett raised a brow. “You assumed—what? That because you were bigger—or richer—that you would not be one taking it up the arse?”
Henry flushed at the crude words, his eyes darting around the room anxiously. Not that Corbett was talking loudly enough for anyone to overhear—the club dining room was full, but the tables were widely spaced and the low hum of constant conversation had a muting effect of its own.
Henry forced his gaze back to Corbett. “It sounds a little ridiculous when you say it aloud, but yes, I suppose that was part of it. People make assumptions all the time, and when you’re a green lad with no knowledge of anything, you just go along with it. Especially when you’re trying to seem like you know what you’re doing.”
The first time he’d visited a brothel with male prostitutes, he’d been a duke-in-waiting with enormous wealth and a pair of shoulders as wide as a barn door. Perhaps the assumptions everyone made about him were not so strange? And in fairness, it wasn’t as though he hadn’t enjoyed what had followed… He had enjoyed it very much. It all felt very new, and very wonderful.
But yes, Henry was curious now. Curious about possibilities that hadn’t occurred to him back then. Doubly curious after getting down on his knees for Christopher—for Kit.
“So,” Corbett said, quite as though he had just read Henry’s mind, “is the man you met at Redford’s the reason for this question?” He grinned slyly.
Henry’s laugh was awkward. “Perhaps,” he admitted.
Corbett laughed too then, but his gaze was kind, affectionate even. “Then I hope you enjoy satisfying your curiosity, Avesbury. Just make sure to use plenty of oil, eh?”
Henry flushed hotly but he grinned too. Pushing his chair back, he stood. “On that note, I think I’ll be on my way.”
Corbett’s sly grin widened. “Good luck,” he said softly, and his good-natured laughter followed Henry out of the club.
17
Kit
Kit had almost convinced himself that Henry would think better of his supposed wish to return to Redford’s, but shortly after nine o’clock the following Friday evening, Henry strolled into the main clubroom looking every inch the elegant and powerful duke. He stood in the middle of the room, searching for Kit, and when his gaze found him, standing with several other gentlemen, Henry’s smile was almost… sweet.
Kit could only guess what his own smile was like. It was immediate and helpless, spreading over his face too quickly for him to check it.
“Would you excuse me?” he murmured to his companions, before moving away.
He tried to put away his smile as moved towards Henry, but his mouth would not comply. The corners tugged up at the edges, and even when he tried to bite his lips into submission, they stretched upwards, betraying him.
Christ, was he sixteen years old?
“Good evening, your grace,” he said when he reached Henry. “I wondered if I would see you tonight.”
“Really?” Henry said, and he looked genuinely surprised. “I thought my eagerness was rather embarrassingly obvious. I was only worried you might decide not to let me in after all.”
Kit couldn’t stop staring at him. His gaze ate Henry up, travelling over his strong, appealing features, cataloguing again the changes that time had wrought.
God, he was being pathetic. He gave a sharp little shake of his head, as though to dislodge his thoughts—Henry was here to talk about the past, that was all.
“I won’t ban you from the place before you’ve even had a chance to see it,” Kit said. “I didn’t give you the tour last week, but I’ll rectify that now. Come with me—I’ll show you what brings my faithful patrons to my door, night after night.”
Kit led Henry down the twisting corridors that led from the respectable rooms in number fifteen to the scandalous back room in number seventeen.
He paused outside for a moment, his hand on the door knob. “I’ll warn you, it can get rather heated in here, but it’s early yet—so I doubt it will be too shocking.”
Henry gave a soft chuckle. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I promise not to faint.”
Kit opened the door and gestured him inside.
The room was reasonably busy, despite the early hour. There were perhaps twenty men scattered around in couples and small groups. Some were pressed up against walls, while others occupied chairs and low sofas. Some of the men were entirely naked, others fully or partially dressed. Most were participating in mutual pleasuring, but a few simply observed from the sidelines. Kit tipped back his champagne glass, watching as an older man rose from knees, kissed the hand of the man he had been servicing, and moved to a second man in the group to offer his mouth.
Kit glanced at Henry. His face was flushed, and he wore an expression of mingled discomfort and arousal that made Kit’s cock harden in his breeches far more effectively than anything else in the room.
Henry cleared his throat. “Are any of these men prostitutes?” he muttered.
Kit shook his head. “This is where my patrons gather to seek companionship from their fellow members”—he winked at Henry to underline the pun—“so to speak.”
Henry gave a dry laugh of his own, but his smile was strained.
“Some of them like to perform publicly,” Kit went on. “Others will find a partner and use one of the private rooms—I’ll show you those in a moment. Others still prefer to pay someone for their services. They’ll meet them in the clubroom or one of the gaming rooms in number fifteen, then come through here for their assignation. Why? Were you hoping to engage someone?” He raised his brows at Henry, as though in invitation, even as his stomach twisted sickly.
Henry looked shocked—hurt, even. “I’m not interested in meeting anyone else,” he said. “I came here to see you.”
It was stupid to feel gratified by that, and Kit felt irritated at himself. He turned away to hide his reaction, saying, “Come on then.”
He led Henry out of the back room and down the corridor.
“These are the private chambers I mentioned,” he said, waving his hand at four identical wooden doors. “These ones are all occupied. I’ll take you up to the next floor and show you one of the ones up there. Those are nicer in any event.” He strode towards the stairs.
“You don’t need to—” Henry began behind him.
“Oh, but I want to,” Kit said, and began climbing the narrow winding steps.
All the chambers on the next floor were empty, so Kit took Henry into one of the larger and better equipped ones, lighting the candles in the sconce on the wall before closing and locking the door behind them.
It was an airy room with a big, comfortable bed and sumptuous drapes. A padded bench at the end of the bed could serve in a number of ways, and the drawers in the armoire were full of items that the patrons could make use of.