Page 52 of Dick Stone, Regency Stud
“As am I,” said Edward, his eyes snagging on the faded chintz fabric that served as a makeshift door to his office.
When he began his breeding business, a scrap of fabric was all he could afford to demarcate his rented territory from that of Mr. Rymer, the barber. In the years since, he hadn’t seen fit to change it. Someday, he’d have a door with a lock. Tobias could keep one key, and he’d have the other.
But for now, the path to that solid door was as clear in his mind as that horse’s arse in his sketch.
“Should I—?”
Edward heard a commotion from the barbershop and looked out to see who thought to disturb the dulcet tones of Rymer’s tooth drawing.
A handsome young man in familiar livery made his way to the back with no small amount of jaunty pride in his step.
“Oh hell,” said Edward, slumping in his chair.
“What’sa matter?” asked Tobias, looking about. “Want me to pull the curtain?”
“Won’t work.”
“Who is it?”
“The worst, silliest person in the entire world,” said Edward, his hand on his forehead as if in pain.
Tobias swung around fast, hoping to see the Prince Regent or at least a real cackling fart, but he simply spotted a toff’s fancy carriage man instead. “Doesn’t look so bad to me.”
“Not him,” groaned Edward. “It’s who sent him.”
Tobias cleaned up his cheesecloth, ready to cut a leg should this encounter prove eventful. “Who’s that?”
“My brother.”
Chapter 2
On the ride toSt. James’s Square, where his brother maintained a house suitable for the Marquess of Chasterly’s heir, Edward had the distinct feeling of being a French aristocrat brought to the blade.
Horatio had a title — a courtesy title, Viscount Netherwallop — but hated it for obvious reasons. He’d made his feelings known from a young age, and Edward always suspected that his father didn’t grant any of his eight others to his eldest son out of avarice.
Within a cavernous and somewhat cold study, Horatio pretended to work behind a desk, ignoring Edward until he approached.
“Netherwallop,” said Edward, rather more loudly than called for.
Horatio froze, clearly summoning his customary hauteur like a dropped musical score after his brother threw him off balance. Then he took a pinch of snuff, inhaled it, and set eyes on his only sibling for the first time in over five years.
“Eddie. How kind of you to visit after all this time.”
Edward sank into the plush leather chair before the desk. The things he’d do for a chair like this. Might even fit behind his table at Rymer’s. He was examining the studwork on the arms when his brother spoke.
“They’re talking about you, you know.”
He continued to inspect the fine upholstery.
“They say you’re a stud. For money.”
The leather must have cost a fortune. It was buttery with no defects. Cradled his—
“So it’s true. You’re a slut for pay? The only solution to losing your allowance on account of yourtreasonousactions was to sell your cock to the highest bidder? Do you sell your arse too?”
The tanning was exemplary; had to have been done abroad.
“Do you have no thought of how this might reflect on your family?” asked Horatio, rising.
