The Gentleman's Code

Chapter Six

“How has the manor been treating you, Mr. Abram?”

Tennyson said. He was keeping himself quite level, although it seemed like it was forced and something wasn’t quite right. It most likely wasn’t, since Oliver had been called here, and he was definitely one of the numerous things the Minister had to deal with. And of course, Oliver’s never failing sixth sense was a good way to judge the situation.

“I am getting used to everything. Thank you. “

“Do you have everything you need?”

“I do, yes. As I’ve mentioned, everyone’s been very helpful. “

“Indeed, they all are.“

Except for you, Oliver almost heard it behind the Lord’s look.

Tennyson crossed his arms.

“I’ll be direct, because I am quite occupied as it is. I don’t see you doing what you’ve been hired for. “

Oliver wanted to protest, or try to persuade the man otherwise, but he knew it would be in vain. The Lord was right.

“My son is quite difficult. And I understand you’ll need more time to get him to...request for your attendance. But I am also not entirely fond of waiting, Mr. Abram.“

“Yes, I’d assume so, Sir.“

“I have spoken to him a few times, but as always he refuses to listen to me. However, I dare say I know him very well, he’ll come to you eventually. “

Tennyson sat down behind his desk  “Neverttheless, try to make yourself look more… don’t know, useful to him.”

“I’ll do my best. “

“I will have another word with him, but make sure you see to it. “

The Lord picked up the papers on his desk and said “You can leave, but keep in mind next time I call you here, I’d expect you to tell me what my son is doing.  As you’ve noticed, he’s rarely even home in the evening, let alone during the day. “

“I have Sir.“

“Thank you. That will be all Abram. I’m expecting an important visitor, so you’re free to go.“

Oliver tipped his head and exited Fernsby’s study.

                                                          ****

On the next evening, Lord Callum called for Oliver. Oliver had been reading something in his room when one of the maids came to fetch him.

He hadn’t seen the Lord for days, and he honestly didn’t know what he could’ve been called for at that time of the evening. Tennyson had most likely spoken to his son, although Oliver was surprised it had worked.

He thought the Lord might need his help getting dressed, which was also highly unlikely, considering he obviously didn’t need anyone for that. 

When he entered the room, Oliver found the young lord  sitting upright in his chair, that same one Oliver had first noticed the moment he’d entered the room for the first time.

 The Lord was in a dark, neat suit, as usual. Oliver concluded that was the Lord’s preferred color. 

There was a half-empty glass next to him on the table. 

Callum closed the book he was reading and looked at Oliver. His eyes had a very strange spark to them;  it almost made Oliver feel uncomfortable. The way Lord Tennyson's look had that very first day they'd met.

"You've called for me," Oliver said and nodded to the lord. 

"I have."

The short retort sounded angry, even though Callum’s posture didn't give away the mood the man was in.

 Or he was most probably trying not to show much of it. Oliver glanced at the bottle on the small table by the chair and noted  it was almost empty. The Lord didn’t seem to be drunk, yet one never knew.

Callum got up and put the book on the chair carefully. He finished the drink and threw the empty glass in the fireplace.

The crystal shattered and its tiny pieces scattered everywhere. It came out of nowhere and Oliver tried not to flinch at the absolutely unexpected action. 

 "Now help me get ready." The lord instructed and left the room. Oliver just stood there for only a second, before he shook his head and headed for the other room.

                                                               ****

They went to the dressing room where the bath had already been prepared.

Lord Callum began unbuttoning his jacket. 

"Allow me, Sir." Oliver approached, but the other man pulled back. "No, no need."

Oliver was again beginning to wonder what he was doing here at all and took an unnecessary look around. 

The room was small and warm. There was something cozy about it.  

Just like the Lord's bedroom. 

Callum began taking his clothes off slowly, the entire time his cold blue eyes didn't leave Oliver's.

Oliver had the wildest idea the man was doing all of this on purpose- and most likely he was, just to provoke him.

To get it back to his father for making him accept the servant he didn’t want.

But Oliver had been in more difficult situations, and that included situations with naked men as well, so knew what he had to do. 

He wasn't planning on giving up so easily and letting himself be fooled.

Oliver also knew another thing- that this was either the beginning of a dangerous game they were both going to play or a terrible misstep; 

Silently, as no one could risk making the first move, or saying anything out loud. Or there wasn't any first move to be made and Oliver was entirely wrong and had miscalculated the looks and the way Callum was regarding him now very,very bad.

The Lord slowly stripped his shirt sleeves and unbuttoned his trousers. He let them drop on the floor and stepped away from the pile, only in his briefs. 

Oliver still struggled with being told what to do and that was one of those cases when he wanted to do something entirely different from what he was ordered but remained where he was.

He let his gaze travel slowly over the other man's body.

 Callum was slim, but his muscles were very well defined. 

Unlike Oliver, he had never needed to do labor outside, so his skin wasn't touched by the sun. It was so white it made his hair look even brighter and for that one second, Oliver wanted nothing else but to see the red strands spilled on his sheets. The vision appeared in his mind so quick and vivid Oliver almost flinched.

Callum's chest was smooth, and red hairs formed a thin line under his belly button. It disappeared under the underwear the lord still had on.

Oliver noticed a few bruises marring the skin on Callum's ribs. Some were purple, others had started turning yellow-ish at the edges.

"I fell from a horse," Callum said after he'd most likely followed Oliver's gaze.

"Which horse, my Lord?"

"Pardon?" Callum asked surprised at the unexpected question. He pinned Oliver with his eyes and this time Oliver returned the look.

He could play this game as well. 

The Lord hesitated for only a moment before he said

"You don't need to just stand there, have a seat. " Callum pointed at the chair against the bathtub and Oliver decided he had nothing better to do anyway but sit.

"How old are you?" The question almost caught Oliver off guard.

"Uh...28, Sir."

"I'm standing naked in front of you and you are still expected to use formal language with me." 

The Lord frowned.

Something unreadable passed his beautiful face.

 It was there only for a second, then he quickly gained back his composure and added "Yet, I'm not the best example of the gentry."

He turned his back to Oliver and stripped the remaining clothes he had on. 

Oliver looked away and the lord got in the tub. Hadn't he known better, Oliver would say Callum seemed nervous.

That would be very unexpected, however, considering the casual attitude the young lord constantly tried to display.

And maybe it was him who was nervous, in fact,  Oliver wasn't exactly sure which it was. 

Once in the water, the lord started washing his body slowly. 

Oliver was very aware of the man, the way his outgrown hair was now dripping wet, small water drops falling down Callum's neck.

Oliver imagined licking them, tasting the skin, and clenched his teeth. Maybe this was more difficult than he'd thought.

"You served under Charles, correct?"

"I did."

"For how long?"

"Less than a year, My Lord."

Oliver said and leaned in the chair, hoping he looked indifferent to the sight of Callum's wet chest.

The lord ran a hand over his hair and closed his eyes. 

“What did you do to get dismissed?”

“I wasn’t.”

“You weren’t?”

“No..I was…”

Callum’s hand moved lower then, over his chest, and then even lower, until it sank under the soapy water.

Damn him and the display he's making of this, Oliver thought and finished after a probably awkward delay

“I was recommended here. “

“By Charles?”

“Yes, Sir.“

"So you must know your previous employer is one of my father's most serious political rivals, despite their friendship." Callum was saying when he tipped his head back and bit his lip.

What is he playing at, Oliver thought.

What was worse - Oliver had nothing against the idea of being part of the play. To hell with it, he could hang, it didn't matter.

Be damned what he was supposed to do and why.

Oliver would get up and make this mouth do other things. His imagination was suddenly running wild, with images of his hands all over Callum, when the Lord asked. 

"Did he?" 

Callum was now looking lazily at him and Oliver sat straighter in his chair. 

"Excuse me, My Lord?"

Callum's lips curled at the edges.

 "Hm, I see." He took the soap and began slowly tracing it over his hands. "By the way, won't you ask me why I'm inquiring about your previous work?"

Another question Oliver hadn't expected.

"I don't see how that matters," he said simply, following every move Callum was making." But if you need to know something, you can always ask me."

Callum smiled again and Oliver added  "Sir ."

The lord left the soap at the stand nearby and propped his elbow on the tub. He tilted his head, resting it on his palm, still watching him.

He was gorgeous, even now. Especially now and Olived didn't want to think of anything else. The Lord’s naked, wet body in front of him. And him, touching the smooth skin. 

Which was another unexpected, unstoppable image that was passing his mind, but he just couldn’t do anything about it. 

Everything was happening in a very odd way, not only about that moment, but everything since the very beginning, and Oliver paused. 

It was right then and there that realization hit him. 

If he failed- and chances seemed to be increasing with every second  he spent here- this handsome, cunning, and spoiled lord was going to be the reason behind it.

"Fetch me a towel." The lord's voice traveled in the dressing room and sobered Oliver up.

He got up and Callum took the soft towel while he was still in the tub.

"You are dismissed."

Oliver gave a curt nod and exited the room, leaving Callum who'd propped his head on the tub, his expression back to being unreadable and the rest of the world completely lost to him.