Tristan sat by the window in White’s, sipped his brandy, and willed his hands to stop trembling. Although, in fairness, he was shaking all over. He could scarcely believe what he had done. He had a lover. A male lover. He took another drink. Not only that, but one he had rescued from a brothel and established in one of the most select parts of town. His heart was beating rapidly, making his breathing short. What in God’s name had he done? He took another drink and rubbed his hand over his face. What he had done was take control of his dismal life and throw in his lot with a man who loved him. Tristan closed his eyes momentarily and sucked in a deep breath before taking another drink. Samuel loved him. Loved him. Him. He couldn’t recall being loved by anyone. His mother, perhaps, but he had
