Simply Pleasure (6 page)

Val proceeded down the steps to where a groom held his horse's head and swiftly mounted. His destination was quite close, but sometimes he preferred to ride just to keep himself above the press of bodies in the busy city. Despite Peter's amusement he'd never reconciled himself to the stink and closeness of London's humanity. It reminded him too much of the brothel.

He walked up the steps to the discreet entrance of Madame Helene's pleasure house and went inside. The footman posted in the lobby nodded to him.

“Good morning, my lord.”

“Good morning. Is Madame receiving visitors?”

“I shall go and inquire, my lord.”

Val waited in the hall until the footman came back to collect him and took him to the rear of the house where Madame's private rooms were. He paused at the door to appreciate the sight before him. Helene lay on her daybed between two naked men, covered only by her long blond hair and the limbs of her two lovers.

“Val.” She smiled at him and slowly extricated herself from her lovers' embrace. Her body was one of the most perfect things he had ever seen and he'd seen plenty. “Did you want something in particular?”

“I would not have dreamed of disturbing you otherwise.”

He followed her into her inner sanctum and waited as she washed. She was as fastidious as he was about removing all traces of her sexual encounters. It was one of the reasons why they got on so well. Both of them had pasts that had scarred them. Madame Helene had chosen to exploit her experience and offer it at a price to others, while Val . . .

He paused to consider what he'd done. He'd tried to forget, failed miserably, and come to Madame's to find release from the sexual desires that sometimes ruled him despite himself.

She wrapped her luscious body in a thin silk robe and patted the seat on the couch next to her. To his amusement she tended to treat him like a younger brother.

“What's wrong?”

“It's Peter.”

“Is he all right?”

“Barely.” Val sighed. “I'm losing him.” Helene was the only person in the world he would ever be able to admit that to. “I'm terrified.”

“Is it the opium?”

“That's the root cause, but he's also stealing from my father and lying as well. I can't allow it. My father is threatening to throw him out.”

She squeezed his hand. “Perhaps Peter is beyond help?”

“No.” He held her gaze. “He can't be.”

“Does he want your help? Has he asked for it?”

“No. But he's going to get it anyway.” His smile felt stiff. “He'll hate me, but it might save his life.”

“What do you intend to do?”

“Wean him off the opium.”

Helene shuddered. “It will not be pleasant.”

“It's the only way.”

“I could find people who would do this for you.”

“I have to do it myself.” He took a deep breath. “Some of this is my fault. I knew he was struggling, and I chose to ignore it.”

“He's not a child, Val, and you are not responsible for him.”

“You don't understand. I forced him to stay with me. I made him dependent on me. I used his love for me against him.”

She regarded him seriously, her beautiful face still. “Then how can I help you?”

Peter woke up with a terrible headache and the sense that something wasn't right. For one the hangings on his bed weren't green and secondly, the sunlight had shifted to another part of the room. It wouldn't be the first time recently that he'd woken up in an unknown bed with a sense of panic. But this space was both familiar and frightening at the same time.

He rolled onto his side and spied Val sitting by the fire reading a book.

“You're still here?”

Val looked up at him. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a horse that's been dragged through a hedge backward. Where exactly am I?”

“At Madame Helene's.”

“Why?” Peter briefly closed his eyes. “If you're wanting to fuck me, Val, you might have to wait. I'm not feeling too well.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Not particularly.” Peter sat up and stretched, allowing the covers to fall away from him. Val was staring at him. “What's wrong?”

“I didn't realize you'd gotten so thin again.”

Peter looked down at his chest. “I've always been thin.”

“But now you're almost emaciated.” Val shook his head. “Will you please put on your robe and come and sit down and eat something?”

“Yes, Nanny,” Peter murmured, but Val didn't smile. He pulled on the blue silk robe that lay on his bed and joined his companion at the fire. A tray of tea sat on the table with a selection of cakes and pies. “I'm really not hungry, Val.”

“As you wish.” Val poured himself some tea and sipped at it, his gaze fixed on the flames.

After a while Peter cleared his throat. “So are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

“You'll be staying here for a while.”

“What do you mean? Has your father finally thrown me out?”

“He's fairly close to it.” Val looked down at his cup. “Why did you steal from him?”

A cold wedge of ice settled in Peter's stomach. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“You pawned several items from your room and stole coins from my father's study.”

Peter opened his eyes wide. “Is that what he told you? Good Lord, Val, the man's been trying to get rid of me for years! Are you going to believe him?”

“I checked the details of his story and they appear to be true.” Val's violet gaze met his. “What I don't understand is why you didn't come to me if you were in financial difficulty.”

“I wasn't. I
assumed
the items in my room were mine to do with what I pleased. I'm not the only member of the household who helps himself to the marquess's petty cash.”

“I wish you would stop making excuses for yourself.”

“I wish you would go away and stop acting like your father.” Peter stood up. “I'm not accountable to you, or to him.”

Val leaned back in his chair and looked up at him. “When you live in our house and owe us everything?”

“Devil take it. I only stayed there because you begged me. You
begged
me, Val, don't you remember?”

“More fool me.”

“Then there is a simple remedy to this, is there not? You go away and leave me here at Madame's to earn my own keep. If you like, I'll ask her to offer you a special rate when you get over your insufferably pompous behavior and want to fuck me again.”

“You're certainly staying here for a while, but not as a whore.”

“I'm not staying anywhere when you are in the same room. Damn you.” Peter strode over to the door and tried to open it. After a fruitless struggle he turned to Val. “Give me the bloody key.”

“I don't have it.”

“I don't believe you.” Peter advanced on Val, his hand held out in front of him. “
Give
it to me. You have no right to keep me here against my will.”

“If I let you out, would you promise never to steal or lie to me again?”

Peter widened his eyes and slowly blinked. “I'll promise you anything you like.”

“Which is why I can't give you the key.” Val sat down again. “I don't have it anyway. Now, please have something to eat and calm down.”

“I'm not hungry.”

“Tea, then.”

Peter eyed Val suspiciously. It wasn't like his friend to be so amenable.

“All right, if it will stop your nagging.”

While Val poured the tea, Peter licked his lips and thought about the night to come, the places he would go, and the people he'd encounter who were just like him, eager to trade anything just for the promise of oblivion. When Val handed him the cup he was captivated by the shaking of his own hand that made the porcelain cup sing in its saucer like a trapped bird.

“What do you want to talk to me about, then?”

Val sat back. “I cannot allow you to steal from my father.”

“Why not? It's not as if you like the man or anything.”

“I don't, but if you steal from him it undermines my plans for the future.”

“Why?”

Val looked at him as if he was stupid. “Because I need his continued goodwill so that I can come into the Sokorvsky inheritance.”

“And what's that got to do with me?”

“Your behavior reflects on mine, you know that.”

“You're no saint yourself.”

“I agree, but I don't steal and lie.”

“You don't have to. Your father would lie down and let you walk over him if he thought you'd forgive him for what happened on the ship. Dammit, he already does!”

“He's my father.”

“And he isn't mine. I know that. If it weren't for you, he would've kicked me out on the streets years ago. I'm a continual disappointment to him, I lead you astray.” He waved an airy hand at his best friend. “I've heard it all before, Val. I've tried to do and be what he wanted, but I never stood a chance really, did I? I'm an aristocrat's little man whore and he's never forgiven me for it.”

Silence greeted his outburst and he glared at the other man. “Well?”

“You don't have to be what he thinks you are. And let's be honest, Peter, your behavior recently can hardly have changed his mind.”

“Because it was already made up. He tolerates me when you are around but when you're not there?” He shivered. “He makes me feel like filth.”

“So you're going to let him win? Let him define you?”

“Why not?” Peter shrugged. “I enjoy being a disappointment to him. I thought you did too.”

God, he wanted a drink
. . . Peter glanced around the room, but there was no sign of any brandy or any alcohol at all.

“I don't mind disappointing him,” Val said slowly. “But I don't want to disappoint myself.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I accept who I am. I'm not ashamed of myself.”

“Yes, you damn well are.” Peter's temper rose. “Every time you crawl back into my bed and expect me to let you fuck me, you're bloody ashamed of yourself.”

Something flickered in Val's eyes. “You're right. I am uncomfortable about using you like that.”

“Then find someone else. I'm sure Madame could help you.”

“I hate other men touching me.”

“Then what does that make me?”

Val's smile didn't reach his eyes. “My problem? I can't let you kill yourself with opium, Peter.”

“You're the one who is always lecturing me about taking responsibility for oneself, and not relying on others, so why can't you just let me make my own choices?”

“Because—” Val looked away. “I can't.”

Peter had to put down his cup before it shook itself out of his hand. He needed to get away from Val and his moralizing and find his own personal salvation.

“I need to go out. If I promise not to steal from you or your father again, will you give me the key?”

“No.”

“You can't keep me here forever.”

“Can't I?” Val replenished his teacup and sipped at the steaming brew. “Helene knows that we are here and has promised not to interfere. She is the only one with a key. I left a note for my father explaining I would be absent for a few days, so I am quite free.”

“This is ridiculous.” Peter tried to laugh. “Come on, Val, let me out.”

“No.”

His hands clenched into fists. “I need—”

“I know what you think you need, Peter, but you are not going to get it. Now why don't you sit down and talk to me, or if that doesn't appeal, go back to sleep?”

“Damn you!”

Val ducked as Peter threw his cup straight at his head. From what he'd been told, he was in for far worse than Peter losing his temper, but he hadn't expected him to lose it so fast. It was yet another example of how addicted his friend was to opium. Helene had peepholes set in the walls that meant she could check in on them at regular intervals and send help if necessary. He hoped it wouldn't come to that. Peter looked far too weak to put up a fight against anything, but then addicts were notoriously good at getting what they wanted and deceiving those around them.

He set his jaw and bent to pick up the pieces of the cup while Peter paced the room, trying the door once more and then the two windows that looked out over the mews.