The Desire for Dearborne

Chapter 4-1

Chapter 4

Julien strolled up Bond Street toward Ashworth’s, wondering what sort of bill Gabriel had run up there. Ashworth’s was very exclusive, only serving the uppermost echelons of Society. One needed a sufficient title or a recommendation from someone with a sufficient title to get an appointment with the tailor. Julien had recommended Gabriel in a moment of weakness and the singer had been taking blatant advantage of it ever since.

Julien intended to make it clear to Ashworth that after this he no longer considered himself responsible for the Angel’s accounts. Perhaps that would convince Gabriel that he was serious about ending their association. Of course, if he had stopped seeing Gabriel when he’d said he would, that would have convinced him as well. Instead, Julien had been with Gabriel several times since, even taking him to the opera and theater.

It might have been easier if he’d found someone new before trying to end it with the Angel, but he hadn’t yet found anyone who appealed to him. Nor did he care to pay for a mollie from the street or even from Madame Rimbaude’s, which catered solely to men of the aristocracy.

There was only one other customer in Ashworth’s when Julien entered. At least Julien assumed it was a customer that Ashworth and his three employees were crowded around and all speaking to at once. Julien craned his neck slightly, curious as to who rated such attention. He finally got a glimpse of the young man in the center of the group. It was someone Julien had never set eyes on before in his life, for if he had, he certainly would have remembered.

The youth’s—Julien thought he couldn’t have been much more than twenty—finely wrought features could have almost served as the model for a young demigod if not for the lost expression. He put the ethereal Angel Gabriel to shame in Julien’s opinion, despite—or perhaps because of—the jet black hair and bright blue eyes that gave him a more earthly, accessible appearance.

The tailors were displaying fabrics and sketches while Ashworth said yea or nay and the customer merely nodded occasionally. Julien found the behavior odd and wondered if perhaps the young man was someone’s new companion, plucked very recently from the country. Then he shook himself. Although the subject of a new companion was at the forefront of his mind at the moment, that didn’t mean that every handsome young man belonged to someone.

Ashworth ushered the customer off to the fitting rooms, then turned and saw Julien. “Lord Blackstone,” he said, bowing. “Forgive me. I did not hear you enter.”

“No matter.” Julien was tempted to ask the young man’s identity, but knew it would be in vain. Unlike most shopkeepers, Ashworth did not brag to all and sundry about who his customers were, and remaining close-lipped had only increased the tailor’s cachet. “I’m here to settle the final account of Mr. Hartley.”

Ashworth’s eyebrows rose, the only sign that Julien had said anything unusual. “Of course, my lord.”

Paying a bill of nearly a hundred pounds served to remind Julien that his association with Gabriel was, above all, a business arrangement. He headed to the Pall Mall and his club for lunch. Although he had a membership at White’s, Julien usually felt more comfortable at Jupiter’s, which was known for members who ignored the strict confines of society. Not only men like himself, but also those who espoused radical philosophies, considered themselves scientific visionaries, or immersed themselves in the outré, as well as many other noted eccentrics.

Both Viscount Seaforth and Lord Archer were members, but they were not present today, so Julien’s meal was a solitary one. He was just finishing off with a glass of hock when he heard someone ask if they might join him. Looking up, he saw the plump figure of Baron Vance. The only thing they had in common was their preference for male partners, but Vance wasn’t a bad sort, despite being the most flamboyant dandy in town. Julien motioned Vance to a vacant chair and signaled for another glass to be brought.

“I have some news that might interest you, Blackstone,” Vance said as he poured himself a glass.

“Have you?”

“Bit of bad news. About your Angel.”

“I wasn’t aware I had an angel,” Julien replied blandly.

“No need to be coy. You know very well who I mean.”

Julien saw no reason to show any interest. Vance was an inveterate gossip and rarely required prompting.

“I ran into Hartley at Mother Madge’s last night.”

That was news, but Julien didn’t allow himself to react. “Did you?”

“Didn’t see you there.”

“That’s likely because I haven’t been to Mother Madge’s for well over a year.”

Vance looked vaguely disappointed by Julien’s calm. “Thought you ought to know. It almost looked as though he was in the market for a new patron.”

“That is probably wise of him.”

Vance’s eyes widened in understanding. “Who is your new companion? Parr’s understudy?”

“I have not met Parr’s understudy as of yet,” Julien said. But perhaps he should, if so many people were making note of him. For a moment he considered asking Vance if he knew anything about the young man he saw in Ashworth’s, but quickly dismissed the idea. He and Vance might share a preference for men, but that’s where any similarities in their tastes ended. Julien liked well-proportioned, elegant men, while Vance’s tastes ran toward hulking, sometimes brutish types. Besides, if he did ask, it would get around in no time. He finished his glass and nodded to the other man. “If you’ll excuse me, Vance.”

His coach was waiting outside the club for him, as he’d instructed, and he climbed in after telling his driver to take him home. He gazed idly at the shops as his coach rolled up Albermarle Street and Sutton’s Book Shop caught his eye. Instead of the newest, most popular novels, Sutton carried scholarly books on a variety of subjects. Most of his profits came from the sale of books that were no longer in print, sometimes books that were centuries old. Julien had discovered many unexpected treasures in the shop, but hadn’t visited it in months.

Rising from his seat, he opened the trapdoor in the roof of the coach and ordered the coachman to stop. Sutton already had a list of specific books and documents Julien hoped to acquire and was to contact him if any came through the shop, but Julien had also found useful volumes while simply browsing the shelves.

Sutton’s was rarely as crowded as other shops; the bookseller made his profits from rare items, not vast quantities. Today was no exception, as there were only three other patrons in the store. Two were passing acquaintances whom Julien nodded to, but the third was the same young man from Ashworth’s. The contrast in his demeanor was so great that Julien almost didn’t recognize him. No longer seeming even remotely uncertain, the young man looked alert and cheerful as he searched the shelves. He now gave the impression of a very determined, very eager scholar, right down to his clothing, which, although of excellent material, was far too ill-fitting to be the work of Ashworth.

Julien couldn’t understand his fascination with the young stranger. Although very handsome, he was not the most handsome man Julien had ever laid eyes on. Indeed, most people would have considered Gabriel’s angelic features far superior, but something about the young man intrigued Julien so much that for a moment he even considered striking up a conversation despite the fact that he rarely approached men—especially young men—without having some idea that his advances would be welcome. Before he could decide whether to make the attempt, the young man moved toward the counter, a stack of books in his hands.

Enough, Julien told himself firmly. You’re no longer an uncontrolled pup at the mercy of your urges and a pretty face. You came in here to find a book, not a new paramour. He tried to concentrate on the book titles, but felt his gaze continually drawn back to the counter.

Sutton himself was waiting on the young man, which was odd. Usually his assistant waited on most customers, because Sutton considered them dabblers or dilettantes and only concerned himself with serious scholars. Then to Julien’s surprise, Sutton invited the young man around the counter and into the back where the most prized volumes were kept. Sutton was notorious when it came to scholarly matters and neither money nor rank could net one an invitation behind the counter if Sutton decided they were unworthy.

Perhaps the stranger was a student from Oxford or Cambridge. That would explain why Julien had never seen him before, but it didn’t explain the unnatural interest Julien felt. Allowing himself a wry smile, Julien reflected that there were those who thought most of his interests were unnatural.

Unable to find any books that held his attention, Julien decided it would be better that he leave before temptation got the best of him and he did something foolish. As he climbed back into his coach, Julien thought again about the understudy that everyone was talking about. Perhaps he ought to go to the theater again tonight—this time without Gabriel.