Brendan Townsend is ready to take his place as a man of the
world, if only he could determine what that should be. His
family obligations are limited to squiring his beloved
sister Elspeth to all the fashionable events of Tonnish
London for her coming out, but he feels a deeper obligation
to Tony, his lover.
When it becomes clear Tony's poor decisions make him a
danger not only to himself, but to all those close to him,
Brendan makes the difficult choice of stepping back, before
he and his family become embroiled in a scandal that could
ruin his sister's chances, or cost Brendan his life.
His sense of loyalty is stronger than his wisdom, however,
and when Tony comes for help, Brendan cannot refuse him.
On the advice of his older brother James, Brendan approaches
his brother's former commander, Philip Carlisle, for advice.
Major Carlisle is a veteran of the Peninsular War, a
widower, and the most dazzling man Brendan has ever
encountered. Here he was, smitten with something akin to
love at first sight, yet seeking advice from the man for a
shameful error in judgment.
Philip Carlisle has been called out of town to handle a
delicate matter of smuggling and murder in a town near his
estates. He also needs to be there when his favorite mare
foals for the first time, so he asks Brendan to accompany
him while they consider Brendan's awkward situation and what
can be done about it.
Brendan's despair eases when he finds Philip a non-
judgmental companion, who shares his love of horses, and
even encourages him on a career path he had not considered.
Friendship grows, although he fears his love must remain
unrequited.
Lee Rowan sets up an enjoyably complex situation with
blackmail, an evil uncle and a scheming landlord. And that's
only in London. Add in the smuggling and murder and there
are plenty of puzzles to be untangled before Brendan and
Philip can find true love.
Brendan Townsend is a young man who
is very loyal to his friends. So when Tony—his best friend,
occasional lover, and a complete screw-up—comes to him in
trouble, Brendan is determined to help. Tony is being
blackmailed by the owner of a “molly house”, the private
club that Tony—and other like-minded gentlemen—frequent in
order to indulge their entertainment needs.
Brendan is
disappointed in his friend, but goes to seek the help of his
older brother’s military commander. Philip Carlisle is a
gentleman to Society, and also a man Brendan’s brother
trusted completely and told his younger brother to seek out
if he ever was in trouble. Philip is a 40-year-old widower,
and finds himself charmed, for the first time, by an
attractive young man. Brendan is likewise besotted with
hero-worship, especially when Philip turns the tables on the
blackmailer and saves the day for many of Society’s closeted
sons.
What follows is a tale of desire, regrets,
cross-country pursuit, hidden identities, lovers torn
asunder then reunited, clever cover stories, and the
requisite pistols at dawn.
Excerpt
"Horses are contradictions, are they not?" Brendan said
pensively. "So very strong, but so vulnerable."
"Yes. Still, though their lives are short, they live every
moment to the full. There's an honesty to horses—and dogs,
too."
"They have what we have lost."
Carlisle turned to look at him; Brendan smiled. "I've not
gone maudlin drunk, sir, only reflecting on this evening.
So much deceit, so much distress, and all of it caused not
by the thing itself, but by the law's condemnation."
Carlisle took a sip of brandy, let it warm him through. He
felt as though he should argue the point, but he was forced
to agree, in principle. "Such behavior does break the
marriage vow," he said.
"If the man is married to begin with, it does," Brendan
agreed. "But the wedding vows don't count for much if a
gentleman chooses to keep a mistress." He glanced at
Carlisle and said quickly, "I apologize, sir; I did not
mean to imply you would do such a thing."
"No offense taken. I was never so much as tempted to stray.
But I do agree, the law is unreasonably selective. I once
heard a parson preach a sermon that claimed the sin of
Sodom and Gomorrah was inhospitality and greed, rather than
the more usual fault."
"And how did the congregation take it? Tar and feathers, I
should think."
"No, he prefaced it with the justification that it was for
children's ears, to give them an explanation until they
were old enough to understand the whole story. Still, what
he said made sense, and since my mother sent me off to war
with a Bible and there were times it was the only thing I
had to read, I did."
"All of it?" Brendan asked, wide-eyed.
"Yes." He did not think it necessary to explain that he had
been searching for a loophole, hoping that his own soul was
not damned forever by his warm regard for Captain
Lockwood. "And of all the abominations in Leviticus, it
does seem peculiar that one act should be so reviled in
this modern day. Men shave every morning; we cut our hair,
we eat pork and lobster… every bit as bad as sodomy,
according to the Bible. And as you say, Leviticus
prescribes that a man who commits adultery should be put to
death, along with his mistress. We'd see a great many empty
seats in Parliament if that part of the law were to be
interpreted as literally."
His glass was empty, but it had not been a very large
drink. He thought another would not hurt. "What you must
consider, though, is not what the Bible says, but how
Society interprets what it says. When the great majority
eat pork and consort with mistresses, those transgressions
will not be punished. When you consort with someone like
Mr. Hillyard—"
"Never again!"
"Or anyone not a woman," Carlisle said. "You risk not only
reputation, but your very life. If you were my son—"
"I am not," Brendan met his eyes, and Carlisle looked away
from the intensity of feeling he saw there. "Please, sir—I
admire you more than I can say, but I cannot see you as my
father."
"Just as well, since your own should be with you for some
time yet," Carlisle said wryly. "Still—I admire you as
well, and even if I did not find your companionship
agreeable, I should fear for your safety if you continue to
seek … affection … in such hazardous company."
Brendan emptied his own glass, and nodded when Carlisle
proffered the decanter. He gazed down at the amber liquid,
as though seeking an answer in its depths. "You say that as
though I have a choice, sir. I do love my sister—she was a
jolly playmate in my childhood, and I still enjoy her
company. But apart from dancing and conversation, women
hold no attraction for me. They are pretty to look upon, as
horses are—and in matrimonial terms, they have as much
appeal. I wish it were otherwise."
He took a deep drink, and smiled sadly. "I have had enough
brandy to say this, and I beg your pardon in advance. If I
could find a woman half as beautiful as yourself, sir—I
would marry her. But that will never happen."
Carlisle cursed himself for bringing up the subject, and
tried not to think about how lovely the boy's speaking eyes
were, under those jet-black brows. He felt he should say
something, but what words were there to undo those he'd
uttered so unwisely?
"I do not think I shall ever marry," Brendan said without
waiting for an answer. "Thank God I'm not my father's heir.
As for seeking affection…I believe the military term
is 'forlorn hope.'"
He shook his head, as though the subject was more than he
could stand, and glanced around. "This is a pleasant room.
It suits you. And there's a symmetry to ending our business
in the room where it began, don't you think?" He set his
glass down carefully, and Carlisle judged his condition as
slightly in his altitudes but well in control. "Shall we
burn this dangerous book, sir, and call our business done?"
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