Noble Hearts Read online

  Edmond stood, his back to Theodore, robe around his ankles, otherwise nude. Even his back was beautiful. Strong frame, smooth skin, a splatter of freckles and two marked dimples. His buttocks looked firm as well. It was all Theodore could do to stop himself from walking over and seeing just how firm they were.

  Edmond looked over his shoulder at Theodore and, glaring, forced a cough. There was no mistaking what he meant by that, but Theodore somehow could not bring himself to turn back around. Theodore simply smiled at Edmond, whose face grew redder by the second with shame and anger.

  Theodore loved seeing Edmond uncomfortable. There was something charming about this mountain of a man when he got nervous that was just delectable. He was a gentle giant, some towering yet meek beast, like the great herbivores of African and American plains. Theodore couldn't look away. He wanted to take Edmond, hold him, protect and possess him.

  Edmond slipped his robe back on and turned around, locking eyes with Theodore. For a moment, Theodore wondered if Edmond would finally use his power and command Theodore to leave. After all, it was not as though Theodore could defy Edmond continually. Eventually, Edmond would be able to leverage his status in some way.

  "What-" Edmond began, his words seemingly catching in his throat for a moment.

  Theodore knew in that moment that Edmond would never use his class to dominate Theodore. Edmond was simply not the type. "Go on," Theodore insisted.

  "What is it that you feel about what we did?" Edmond asked, avoiding eye contact.

  The question caught Theodore off guard. "Am I supposed to feel a certain way?"

  "It is only that... I am not sure that what we did is right. I feel guilty. Ashamed. I was wondering if perhaps you also agreed and yet you show no shame or remorse," Edmond explained.

  Theodore shook his head. "I see no need to feel shame or remorse."

  "I cannot believe that you do not know what our world thinks of such acts, what the Bible says about them," Edmond said, almost shrinking into his robes.

  "I suppose that I am not all that great of a believer," Theodore replied. "I have never seen any reason to believe there is anyone watching over me."

  Edmond laughed under his breath, in a sarcastic and bitter tone, looking out the window at the clouds rolling over. "A sodomite and a blasphemer. I am not sure if you seriously expect me to take your side."

  "I thought we were on the same side in the first place. At lease I felt as though we were back in the closet," Theodore replied, stepping forward.

  Edmond turned to the window fully and walked up to it, away from Theodore. "I would hope not. I would hope in the future I may have the willpower to resist the likes of you."

  Edmond's words sounded so forced, so insincere, that Theodore couldn't hold back his laughter. "The likes of me and the likes of you are one and the same."

  "They are not," Edmond snapped back, hands shaking a little.

  "Is that truly what you believe? It seems to me," Theodore said, stepping up by Edmond's side. "It seems to me that you are also at the very least a sodomite, if not a blasphemer yourself."

  Edmond sighed. "I try so hard," he whispered under his breath, as though to himself.

  Theodore suddenly felt bad. Considering what a relaxed upbringing Theodore had enjoyed, considering how culturally carefree his uncle had been, he had never experienced conformity close up. He had known it existed, of course. Seen it. He knew much of the world was conformist. But, after what had taken place between them, he had not expected Edmond to be a conformist as well.

  He gently ruffled Edmond's hair, feeling how soft it was despite its fairly controlled appearance. It seemed to lie naturally like that, without any lotions to hold it in place. Even Edmond's hair wanted to conform to society's ideals.

  "I am sorry," Theodore said. "I did not mean to attack your beliefs. I just did not think it possible for one to hold beliefs that attack oneself."

  Edmond shook his head. "My beliefs do not attack me. They uplift me."

  "Then let yourself be uplifted," Theodore said, leaning in gently.

  Their lips brushed. It was an incredible sensation, like Theodore's whole body surged with life from his mouth down. It was so wonderful, so intense. How could Edmond seriously believe there was anything wrong with this? There was nothing wrong with them. It was as pure and beautiful as any young romance. Theodore felt like the Romeo to Edmond's Juliet.

  Theodore broke the kiss. He opened his eyes just before Edmond, basking in the beauty of Edmond's relaxed face. "See? Do you think that dragged you down, or lifted you up?"

  Edmond opened his mouth as though he had a reply, then stopped himself. He rested his hands on Theodore's hips and lightly gripped.

  "It's good, isn't it?" Theodore asked. "It sure didn't feel wrong to me. And it's not as though anyone saw."

  As though waking from his trance, Edmond looked at the window with a slight panic. Theodore reached and pulled a curtain across, between them and the glass.

  "Nobody saw," Theodore insisted.

  Edmond smiled weakly. "But they could have. They could have seen me and then they would have known."

  Theodore sighed. "You're right. We need to be more careful."

  "We need to not do this in the first place," Edmond replied.

  "Then take your hands from my hips, tell me to leave the room and never speak to you again," Theodore replied. It was a risk. But he needed to know.

  Edmond's hands shook but stayed where they were.

  "If you are so sure this is wrong, then why can you not end it for good?" Theodore asked.

  "Because for the first time in my life, I am feeling something so indescribably wonderful," Edmond replied. His eyes seemed a little red, as though he were trying his best to hold back tears.

  "Then feel it, enjoy it, and let's see where it takes us," Theodore said, lifting his hand and stroking Edmond's smoothly shaven cheek.

  "I am not sure that this is right," Edmond said, gazing down at Theodore with a mix of longing and sheer terror at what he was doing.

  "I know," Theodore replied. "I am not completely sure myself. But we might as well try."

  "It is not proper for gentlemen to conduct themselves in such a manner," Edmond said, his hands still squeezing Theodore's hips lightly.

  "Despite all you say, it appears as though you want me more than you want to act with propriety," Theodore said with a laugh.

  Edmond smiled, but quickly subdued it. "That is not amusing. It is a problem, Mr. Smithe."

  "Call me Theodore, or Teddy, if you prefer," Theodore replied, stepping in and raising his arms to embrace Edmond. "And it is only a problem if you wish for it to be one. I am more than happy to wait and see if it is a problem or not."

  Edmond stepped back a little, as though rejecting the hug, looking around before stepping in to embrace Theodore. "Very well, then. But let us not regret this. We must be quiet, and we must retain our composure," Edmond said.

  "As long as we are both happy, I cannot believe we shall ever regret a thing," Theodore replied, breathing in the scent of Edmond's cologne.

  "I wish it were so simple," Edmond said with a sigh.

  Chapter Twelve

  Edmond knew that something or someone was testing him. He also knew that he was failing the test. Theodore was far too delightful for Edmond to push him away, far too beautiful for Edmond to resist. He had tried. He had pushed Theodore away, told him to leave. But when push came to shove, Edmond surrendered and Theodore won. When it was time to act on the morals he had been trained with his entire life, Edmond felt unsure of these morals. All of a sudden, they felt hollow. Especially when the alternative was... Theodore. Was love. Was a flow of emotions he had never experienced before and never again wanted to lose.

  Theodore seemed so earnest. He did not seem to be trying to hurt anyone, simply to enjoy himself. Edmond recalled being told that pleasure was the simplest form of temptation, the most basic of traps which the devil set for you. But why was this pleasu
re any different from the pleasure of good food, of wine, of the theater or a good night's rest? Why was this one something wicked to avoid?

  Sitting with his friends, the Elridges, he still felt on edge, as though at any moment his vile secrets may be revealed. The sweets and drinks on the table were pleasurable and tempting. But nobody present felt bad about indulging. Edmond watched as Mrs. Elridge took a bite from a scone, humming at the sweetness of it.

  "You seem a touch preoccupied, Lord Thanet," Mr. Elridge said, not looking up from his tea. "I trust all is well for Your Grace at present?"

  "All is very well indeed, Mr. Elridge," Edmond replied like a trained dog. What else could he say?

  Mr. Elridge hummed. He was unconvinced. But he was also thankfully unwilling to defy social norms in order to press any further.

  Mrs. Elridge smiled pleasantly. She was also in no position to be rude to an Earl.

  So why was it that Theodore, a tutor smart enough to know his standing, was so willing to act against the rules all the rest of society respected without a single doubt? Why did such a lowly man think he was going to be able to get away with an act which nobody else would even dare attempt?

  Edmond knew Theodore was teasing him. Teasing him, not out of malice, but out of a simple desire for pleasure. But it was still so uncomfortable. Edmond had things he needed to deal with himself. Things he could not get through if every minute there was someone to drag him back to the first step. He had to make sure that Theodore would let him be.

  "Something seems to be troubling you, Your Grace," Mr. Elridge said. "Are you settling well into Your Grace's new role?"

  "I suppose there is much that I need to do yet," Edmond said. "I have much to learn and much to do. But I am not sure there is anything that anyone can do for me. It all falls on my shoulders."

  "With all due respect, Your Grace, you are a young man still. You may be surprised at how much help can be offered by someone with a little more experience and a few more years," Mr. Elridge replied.

  It was tempting. Edmond found himself wondering. After all, not only were the Elridges older than him, but they were born into their role. The blood which ran through their veins was no doubt of greater value than his, the blood of a lowly orphan masquerading as nobility.

  Then again, they did not know everything he was going through. Not only were they a married man and wife, but they had many beautiful children. They were not plagued by the sins which haunted Edmond. They did not feel tempted to act in such an outrageous manner as Theodore and Edmond had. How could they assist with a trial of which they knew nothing?

  They were older. They had seen so much. They had lessons he could learn from. But no lessons pertaining to his desires at present. Besides, how could he explain all that was troubling him? Every little sin which was calling him to its nest? Especially to such upstanding people as the Elridges? They may be eccentric in some ways, and a little too outgoing, but they were not wicked and they did not defy social norm in any meaningful way.

  Edmond shook his head perhaps a little too energetically. "No, I am not sure that this is something you can assist me with, my friend. It is a personal matter. Troubles of the heart which I must learn to endure on my own, in my own way."

  "Oh, you should not worry about troubles of the heart at your age!" Mrs. Elridge said with a smile. "When the right lady comes and you are married, you will regret having wasted time on endless petty heartaches."

  "Indeed, the heart is far more troubled after marriage than before," Mr. Elridge said, smiling at his wife with a little mischief.

  Mrs. Elridge let out an indignant huff but smiled back.

  Edmond smiled too. They were truly the picture of a marriage of purpose, a union of two halves which made a whole. Something he could never hope for so long as he held onto such troubling emotions as currently ravaged his heart. "Although, there is one thing," he said, drawing a deep breath. "I feel that your employee, Mr. Smithe, is overstepping his boundaries."

  Mr. Elridge raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

  "He is simply being perhaps a little too sociable, considering our respective ranks," Edmond said, hoping that they did not notice how flustered he was by the question, by the images it brought up in his mind.

  "Oh dear," Mrs. Elridge said, tapping her toes without noticing. "I suppose he must have become attached to Your Grace. I must confess that I encouraged him, with his having experienced some of what Your Grace recently has..."

  "I understand that we may have some things in common, but an Earl can hardly become friends with a tutor. Even if said tutor comes from a noble background," Edmond replied, recalling a little of what he had heard concerning Theodore's family history. "Where he is now and where I am now is all that matters."

  "Indeed, quite correct," Mr. Elridge said. "Well, Your Grace's wish is our command. What is it that you would like us to do concerning Mr. Smithe's indiscretions?"

  Edmond hesitated. He had to phrase this properly, to not give away even the smallest hint as to what was on his mind. "Please, could you ask him to perhaps pay a little more attention to his wards and less to guests," he said. "That is all."

  He knew that this might not do anything to persuade Theodore to let him be. After all, Theodore had insisted on a direct command from Edmond's lips. Not a request. Not a complaint. And most certainly not a second-hand order from Theodore's employers. No doubt Theodore would find a way to justify invading Edmond's privacy once more.

  "What would you mean, when you say that he had a similar experience?" Edmond asked cautiously, in part to continue the conversation, in part genuinely wondering what the two of them could possibly have in common.

  "Well, he too was the adopted child of nobility. He was under the employment of Baron Smithe, of the house of... Essex, was it?" Mrs. Elridge said, directing the final question to her husband.

  "Perhaps," Mr. Elridge replied with doubt in his voice.

  "Nevertheless," Mrs. Elridge continued. "He was, at least in theory, in line to become Baron himself. Unfortunately, something seems to have happened. Of course, hearing that our dear friend's child was destitute and training to become a tutor, we simply could not allow him to work for someone who was not familiar with his plight. Much less for one of the people who had rejected and betrayed him. No, we had to employ him ourselves."

  "So, Theodore- I mean Mr. Smithe, was the son of a Baron? My, what a fall from grace," Edmond mused.

  "No, no, Mr. Smithe was Theodore's uncle. And yet, when Theodore's parents passed, Mr. Smithe was the only person who could care for a boy his age."

  "Ah, I see," Edmond replied. "Not quite the same, then."

  "I suppose not. And to think, had they not shared a drop of blood, but some adoption papers, then our Teddy would have been in the same position as Your Grace!" Mrs. Elridge said with a laugh.

  She only seemed to realize her faux pas as her husband shot her a glare.

  "Oh dear," she added. "Not that I mean to undermine your position, Your Grace, I only comment on the irony of-"

  "It is fine," Edmond said with a wave of the hand. "I took no insult, Mrs. Elridge." This was in part a lie. The comment had cut him like a thousand daggers through the chest. And yet he could not accuse her of insulting him. She was eccentric, infantile perhaps, but not cruel.

  They resumed sipping their tea in awkward silence.

  It was a strange revelation that Theodore had also lost a father. Or at the very least a father figure, who had raised him from a young age. Mrs. Elridge was correct that they would understand one another's pain. But it was different. Very different. Theodore had lost an entire life, along with all the constraints of that position. Edmond, on the other hand, had been cast head first into an abyss of social rules which he had barely grasped before the Earl passed away.

  Though both were suffering, they were worlds apart in terms of the type of pain they had suffered.

  "It must have been tough for him," Edmond mused. "To have fallen so far and so fast."<
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  "I suppose at first. It has been nearly a year and a half since, but the wounds may still be raw," Mr. Elridge replied.

  "A year and a half? I believed he came into your employment only eight months ago?" Edmond asked.

  Mr. Elridge nodded. "Before we found out what had become of him, he spent some months fighting for some portion of his uncle's estate, and yet more months training to become a private tutor. As soon as we found out, we took him on immediately. It appears his pride and confusion prevented him from turning to us for help. But help we did."

  "I am sure he is immensely grateful," Edmond replied.

  No wonder Theodore was so clingy and so socially maladjusted. He was caught between two worlds and fitted into neither. So, he reached out to the one person who might perhaps understand him. And that one person, Edmond, was pushing Theodore away as aggressively as possible, as though Theodore were some sort of a leper.

  Edmond felt bad about it. Of course, he did. But he wanted to enjoy his stay and handle these strange emotions without being discovered being whatever he was. He did not have time or energy to handle Theodore's emotions as well.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Theodore could not get Edmond off his mind. This was the first time he had felt such an intense attraction to anyone. Not the first time Theodore had experienced desire. But usually it was such a mild pull.

  He could remember so many of his childhood and adolescent friends, that slight nervous warmth, that joy that came with their company. It had been lovely, but he had never dared act on it. After all, there would have been punishment enough for holding a girl's hand. Touching and kissing another boy would have been received about as well as an automobile in the middle of a small-town, farm fair.

  Theodore understood it a little. He had been raised in religion, like everyone else he knew. But somehow, he felt it was more a guideline than reality. He had never felt drawn to faith and attended Church more because it was expected of him than because he derived anything from it. He had a keen eye for social norms and knew very well that people seemed to care more about some rules than others, religious, social, or even legal.