CHAPTER SEVEN

  Billy was too worried about who the dead person might be to even think too deeply of the mortification he felt at being interrupted during such an act of intimacy with the duke.

  He had no doubts that would come later.

  It was enough for now that he knew his usually pale cheeks were burning and no doubt a fiery red.

  Wulf, for his part, looked every inch the haughty duke as, having righted his clothing, he now unlocked the door and stepped out into the hallway.

  A frown creased his brow as he looked at the man Billy had only this morning engaged to be his new butler. “Why do you look familiar?”

  “I’m Henry’s brother, Your Grace,” the tall and burly man explained.

  Wulf glanced at Billy. “The same Henry who guards the door of the Apollo?”

  “The very same,” Billy confirmed. “I called to see him today, and he told me that his brother was looking for new employment. Voilà.” He used another one of the words he’d heard the duke’s French valet use. To describe his own appearance, not the duke’s. Billy had a feeling that Valentin had never approved of the austere clothing Wulf preferred.

  Good riddance, Billy thought, because he very much approved of every single thing about the duke.

  An approval the duke could not see when Billy’s gaze remained fixed in the vicinity of the older man’s perfectly shaved jaw—a jaw Wulf must have shaved himself this morning after Valentin had fled in the night—rather than lifting his eyes high enough to be able to see the expression on the other man’s face.

  Not because Billy was ashamed, but because he felt uncharacteristically wrong-footed.

  Not surprising when he’d had Wulf’s big cock stuffed in his mouth only seconds ago!

  A part of Billy was still filled with disbelief that such a thing could have happened between them.

  Except he could still taste Wulf’s salty sweet pre-cum, and his lips felt slightly sore from having been stretched so far about that impressive girth.

  “I see.” The duke had turned back to the butler. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Miller. Now, who did you say is calling and why?”

  Miller grimaced. “A constable is asking—no, demanding, to speak to Billy specifically. He says it’s to do with a body that was pulled out of the river earlier today.”

  “Did he say whose body it is?” Billy held his breath, fearful of being told that his father or one of his brothers or sisters might have drowned.

  His sister Mary called at Wulferston House once a week to collect the money Billy sent home, but otherwise, he hadn’t seen the rest of his family in the weeks since the Apollo Club had burned down and his father had given that ultimatum that he must refuse to take the job within the duke’s household before he could return home.

  “The constable said as it was a Mr. Sidney Moreland,” Miller provided. “Which, if I’m not mistaken, was the name of the man Billy said was the butler here until yesterday.”

  Billy’s eyes were wide with disbelief at hearing the hateful Moreland was now dead.

  The other man had only left here late last night, with the rest of his family.

  No…that wasn’t quite the sequence of events.

  Moreland had left through the front door, while the rest of his family had presumably left through the servants’ entrance at the back of the house. Which meant the butler had been alone when he departed the house.

  It now seemed, that sometime during the hours that followed, Moreland had somehow and somewhere met his end.

  For all that Billy had lived in the London slums, a place where death could claim its next unsuspecting victim at any time during the day or night due to illness or violence, he was still shocked to learn that Moreland, a man whom he had not liked and who had not liked him, was now deceased.

  That a constable had been sent to speak to Billy in connection with that death was even more alarming.

  Wulf frowned as he saw the color had drained from Billy’s previously flushed cheeks.

  Because Billy was shocked to learn of the butler’s death?

  Or because he knew who was responsible?

  The fact a constable was here asking to speak to Billy seemed to imply that he, at least, thought the young man must know something about the previous butler’s untimely death.

  That he might even suspect, despite the fact Moreland was eight or so inches taller than Billy and weighed a great deal more than him too, that Billy had carried out the deed himself?

  If that should turn out to be the case, they would quickly learn that Wulf had no intention of allowing anyone to take Billy away from here.

  From him.

  Wulf would not allow himself to be parted from Billy now that they had admitted to their liking for each other.

  A liking Billy had clearly demonstrated when he got down on his knees, and Wulf had obviously showed he reciprocated when he allowed the younger man to suck his cock. Wulf had not reached the release he craved, but that was not Billy’s fault.

  Now, even the thought of that shared intimacy made Wulf’s knees feel weak.

  “Show the gentleman into the library, please, Miller?” Wulf waited until the new butler had departed before turning to a white-faced Billy and demanding. “Do you know anything about this?”

  He visibly recoiled. “No, I don’t. Nor do I care for the way you have immediately assumed that I might.” Anger had replaced his shock as he glared at Wulf.

  “I made no such assumption, but the man being shown into the library obviously believes you know something about Moreland’s death. Otherwise, he would not be here,” Wulf reasoned evenly. “I merely wished to be in possession of all the facts before we both go to the library and speak with this man.”

  Billy’s chin jutted forward in challenge. “I didn’t know Moreland was dead until Mr. Miller said the constable was here wanting to talk to me about it.”

  Wulf lifted his hand to gently caress Billy’s cheek with the soft pad of his thumb. “I believe you.”

  The younger man eyed him guardedly. “You do?”

  Wulf chuckled ruefully. “Billy, I know from personal experience that if you have something to say then you say it. Without filter or hesitation. I also know you are neither vindictive nor untruthful. Nor have I seen you harbor resentment, but instead, I know you to prefer to retaliate immediately if you are affronted or insulted. Therefore, much as Moreland might have deserved to meet his sorry end for the way he and the other servants ill-treated you, I know you well enough that if you say you know nothing of his death, then that is the case. I believe you,” he repeated firmly when the younger man still looked uncertain.

  Billy blinked. “Did you have anything to do with it?”

  “No,” he instantly denied. “I might have done so if I had learned he had harmed you in any physical way,” he conceded. “But you assured me that was not the case, so I simply allowed him to leave.”

  Billy’s tongue moistened his lips, his expression showing his uncertainty. “We should talk about what happened just now⁠—”

  “We will do so later,” Wulf dismissed briskly. The last thing he wanted to hear from Billy at this moment was that the intimacy, which had given Wulf such pleasure, had been a mistake. His cock was still hard and aching, damn it. “At the moment, we have the more pressing matter of the constable waiting in the library to talk to you in regard to Moreland’s demise.”

  Billy was grateful he had Wulf on his side when it quickly became obvious that the rotund and middle-aged constable was uncomfortable at finding himself in the presence of His Majesty’s Minister for Law and Order.

  The Minister for Law and Order who was presently also every inch the haughty Duke of Wulferston.

  For all Billy enjoyed his verbal sparring with the duke, he knew that even he might have quaked in his boots if Wulf had ever looked down his nose at him with such cold disdain.

  Which was when Billy came to the realization that Wulf must have deliberately held back that haughty coldness during their own verbal exchanges.

  For the same reason Wulf had said he could not deny Billy anything?

  Because he liked Billy in the same way Billy liked him?

  As unlikely as that might seem, all evidence—not least Wulf’s cock having recently been in Billy’s mouth—pointed to that being the case.

  Billy felt a fluttering sensation in his chest just thinking what that might mean for the future. His. And Wulf’s. Perhaps⁠—

  “—listening to me, Mr. Brown?” The constable sounded impatient.

  “Of course he is listening to you. We both are,” Wulf answered the man icily. “But as yet, you have not said anything that is of particular interest to either of us.”

  The constable looked deeply offended. “A man is dead, Your Grace. A man who, until yesterday, was in your employ.”

  “As you say, his employment here was in the past, be it only until last night,” Wulf acknowledged dismissively. “Neither I nor Mr. Brown have any idea what happened to Mr. Moreland after he departed this house.”

  The portly man bristled. “Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but I will need to hear that from Mr. Brown’s own lips.”

  The duke’s eyes narrowed. “At which time, he will tell you exactly the same as I just did.”

  “I still need to hear it from Mr. Brown,” he maintained stubbornly before turning to Billy. “I caution you to think before you speak⁠—”

  “You will not caution him in regard to anything,” the duke reprimanded icily.

  “I will when we have a witness who says they saw Billy Brown, wearing the same red jacket as he has on right now, strike Mr. Moreland on the back of the head with something before dragging his body to the riverbank and throwing him in,” the man said determinedly.

  “What was this ‘something’ he is supposed to have hit him with?” Wulf demanded to know.

  “The murder weapon has not yet been found.”

  “The name of the witness?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say right now.”

  “Then how do we even know there is a witness at all?”

  “Because the person has already made a statement to that effect.”

  “Look at Mr. Brown, Constable,” Wulf bit out scathingly. “Does he look as if he is capable of dragging a dead body anywhere, especially that of a man who is so much bigger and heavier than he is?”

  Billy knew the duke was trying to defend him, but he wasn’t sure he cared for the way in which he was doing it. Billy might be smaller and weigh less than Moreland, but he was also wiry and strong.

  “People can do funny things when their blood is up.” The constable obviously agreed with Billy on that subject.

  “When did Moreland die?” the duke challenged.

  “The incident was witnessed taking place in the early hours of this morning.”

  Billy saw the barely there clenching of Wulf’s jaw.

  Because they both knew there had only been the two of them in the house last night after the other servants had all left.

  Because they also knew that Wulf had come down to the kitchen during the early hours of this morning to find Billy was already there, claiming the reason he had come downstairs was to bank the fire in the range.

  But the truth was, and Wulf must realize it too, that he could just as easily have left the house an hour or so earlier. Sought out and then argued with and murdered Moreland, before disposing of his body in the river and then returning to Wulferston House without anyone being the wiser.

  Worse, a witness claimed they had seen Billy doing exactly that.

  “I shall be needing to take Mr. Brown along with me for further questioning⁠—”

  “You will not be taking Mr. Brown anywhere,” Wulf said harshly.

  “But my superiors will need to speak to him⁠—”

  “Then they can come here and do so.” His mouth twisted. “I do not believe Mr. Brown to be guilty of anything more serious than having a deplorable taste in jackets.”

  “Oy.”

  Wulf sent him one of those affectionate smiles Billy loved so much.

  “As such,” the duke continued, that smile no longer in evidence, “you may assure your superiors that Mr. Brown will be remaining here, in my custody.” He once again looked down the length of that haughty nose. “If they have a problem with that arrangement, they can come here and discuss the matter with me personally. Or perhaps they would care to take up the matter with the Prince Regent, who, as I am sure you are aware, is an advocate of truth and justice over unproven accusations.”

  Billy had no idea if the latter was true, not being a personal friend of Prinny’s himself, as he knew Wulf was, but he doubted the constable was aware of the Prince Regent’s feelings on the subject either.

  The statement sounded sincere, at least.

  And threatening enough to cause the constable to retreat.

  For now.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Thank you.”

  Wulf glanced across to where Billy was once again slumped in the armchair across from his own in the library.

  The constable had departed a few minutes ago, with the warning he would be back to question Billy after he’d had time to speak to his superiors. Wulf had suggested he also investigate the incident further before he thought of returning here to make any further false accusations.

  “For what?” Wulf now prompted.

  “For standing by me, whether you believe me innocent or not. For refusing to allow the constable to take me from here and lock me up.” Billy added the last with a pained wince for what all knew were the terrible conditions within English prisons.

  Wulf’s position in government meant he was trying to improve those conditions, but it was proving to be a slow business.

  He scowled fiercely. “I told you that I would not allow anyone to take you away from here.”

  “I know.” Billy sighed. “But this witness named me as the murderer, and wearing this jacket while I did it.” He looked down at the garish garment he still wore and which Wulf had so recently teased him about. “It sounds—what’s the word?—ah yes, it sounds damning.”

  Wulf snorted. “It is only the statement of one person, and we have no idea how reliable their word is.” His eyes narrowed. “I will have their name by the end of the day, and then we will be able to question them ourselves,” he assured grimly.

  He had already given Miller a note to be delivered to Stonyhurst after the constable left. In it he had asked the other man to call upon him. He did not trust asking his friend to look into the situation for him to pen and paper, preferring the two men discuss the situation in person.

  He had asked Stonyhurst to come here because he was reluctant to leave the house himself until after he and Billy had at least talked about their earlier intimacy.

  A Billy who now chose to stare morosely into the flames of the fire rather than look at Wulf.

  Because he was upset at being accused of murder?

  Or because Billy regretted the intimacies that had occurred between them earlier?

  Wulf felt a heaviness in his chest at the thought of it being the latter. “Billy, I am not expecting you to make good on anything we said or did together earlier,” he assured gently.

  Those green eyes quickly lifted to meet his. “Does that mean you’ve changed your mind about wanting me now that I’ve been accused of being a murderer?”

  Wulf didn’t hesitate to shake his head. “I believed you when you told me you were not responsible. Nor will I ever change my mind about wanting you, no matter what you are accused of,” he admitted huskily. “My hesitation now is because I do not want you to ever feel obligated into performing any—any— What are you doing?” His eyes were wide as he watched Billy stand and cross the small distance between them before the young man knelt between Wulf’s parted legs and began to unfasten the buttons on his pantaloons.

  Much as he had earlier.

  “This is me not feeling obligated.” Billy gave him a mischievous glance from those wicked green eyes. “Nothing like a bit of murder to— How did the constable put it? Ah, yes. To heat the blood.” He freed Wulf’s engorged cock from his drawers before wrapping both hands about that throbbing length. “And your blood is so very hot, Your Grace,” he murmured appreciatively as his hands stroked slowly up and then down that silken flesh before he lowered his head and once again took the bulbous purple top fully into the furnace of his mouth.

  Those impish green eyes continued to meet Wulf’s gaze through each of those seductive movements.

  Pleasure exploded down the length of Wulf’s cock and into his balls before radiating out to the rest of his body. A pleasure which deepened as Billy began to suck that length to the back of his throat, his tongue an arousing rasp against his tender flesh.

  “I am not going to last, love,” Wulf warned seconds later.

  Despite the gravity of the constable’s news, Wulf knew he had been balanced on the edge of this release since he and Billy were interrupted earlier. The fact the constable had wanted to take Billy with him only intensified Wulf’s need for this affirmation that Billy was his and no one would ever take him away.

  Even the thought of losing this cheeky ray of sunshine in his life sent a cold shiver down Wulf’s spine.

  He reached out to thread his fingers through Billy’s silky hair even as he thrust deeply into the moist heat of the younger man’s mouth.

  Wulf needed to feel the solid presence of his red-haired sprite beneath his fingertips. To know that Billy was here. With him.

  Which, for a man who had never needed anyone permanently in his life, was as wondrous a dilemma as it was terrifying.

  One which Wulf was grateful not to be able to linger over when Billy chose that moment to hum his own pleasure as he took Wulf’s cock fully to the back of his throat.