Mr Warren's Profession by Sebastian Nothwell

Mr Warren's Profession by Sebastian Nothwell

Author:Sebastian Nothwell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, victorian, 1890s, textile mill, steam engineer, victorian romance, hurt comfort, romance 1890s, 1890s romance, historical gay
Publisher: Sebastian Nothwell


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

It wasn’t the first time Aubrey had heard that phrase. Dozens of men had muttered it into his ear as he lay under them, or gasped it into the air above his head as he knelt before them. It’d even tumbled from his own lips once.

Harry, a telegraph boy like Aubrey, had possessed a strong jaw, broad shoulders, and a coy smile. He and Aubrey had been frequent guests at the Catullus Club, brought up the back stair by a Post Office superior. Most nights they had worked the club separately. On occasion, a larger party of gentlemen had required a larger pool of telegraph boys to amuse them, and Harry and Aubrey were brought in together. Those nights, Aubrey had relished. Most of the toffs had thought Aubrey the beauty, but to Aubrey’s eyes, Harry had outshone him by far.

It took had taken Aubrey months to gather his courage. Then, one cool September night, as they navigated the winding streets between the club and their own far less fashionable neighbourhoods, Aubrey grabbed Harry’s wrist and tugged him into an alley. Even after a long night of paid work, Aubrey had a trembling, feverish kiss to spare for Harry’s lips. He drew back fearful of Harry’s reaction.

Harry rewarded his bravery with a handsome grin, then turned away. Aubrey watched, dumbfounded, as Harry moved to stride off into the night as if nothing had happened at all.

“I love you,” Aubrey blurted out.

Harry spun to face him again.

Aubrey clapped a hand over his mouth. He hadn’t meant to confess—had intended only to call Harry back to him and ask what would happen between them now—but there it was, hanging in the cold fog.

Harry laughed.

Aubrey forced a nervous chuckle and waited for Harry to explain the joke.

“You sound just like ‘em,” Harry said, still laughing.

“Like who?” Aubrey asked.

Harry snorted. “The toffs, who else?”

He cuffed Aubrey on the shoulder and went on his merry way down the alley.

Aubrey couldn’t will his legs to follow. If he caught Harry up, he couldn’t answer for what he might do. Hit him, perhaps—or worse, kiss him again.

As Harry disappeared into the fog, Aubrey departed in the opposite direction. In Hyde Park, it didn’t take long to find another toff willing to give him a bed for a few hours.

Now, years later, in a warm, bright library miles away from the cold, dark alley he’d buried his heart in, Aubrey heard those words again. He knew he ought to respond, but his jaw hung useless, his tongue stilled.

Lindsey, meanwhile, seemed to realise what he’d said. He was moments away from understanding what a terrible mistake he’d made by assigning any non-monetary value to Aubrey’s companionship. Every second ticking past brought them closer to the point when Lindsey would wake up from his fantasy and leave.

Stop him, every thought in Aubrey’s mind screamed, but all he could do was stare. He watched Lindsey’s expression shift from confusion to hurt, and still said nothing.

Lindsey’s mouth opened. This was it. He’d ring for Charles to show Aubrey out, and Aubrey would lose him forever.



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