Duke of Camellias

SIX

That day, when Blair went downstairs for breakfast, his head thudded heavily. He could only vaguely remember the events of yesterday night, and although he was sure he had said some embarrassing things, he couldn't recall what exactly they were.

Downstairs, the duke read his newspaper, his plate empty already. He never started without Blair, so he was curious as to what made the changed. He greeted him good morning, and he replied, but that was all of their exchange.

"Today we can begin on my adolescent years," the duke said, and Blair nodded. "It will answer the question you asked me yesterday night."

"The question I asked?"

The duke raised an eyebrow. "Whether or not I was experienced in making love."

"Oh, yes. Let's begin."

He propped the paper on the table before his, and then dipped his fountain pen into the inkwell.

"Let's see. I was around fourteen when I was sent into a boarding school too, the same as Charles. However, we weren't in the same grade, and rarely saw one another. We were in different dorms, and I was bullied by the other boys my age. You see, growing up, I had an effeminate face, and I was neither strong nor well built, so I was prey in a school of hungry pubescent boys.

"My first time happened in my dorm-room, a room I was sharing with another boy like me, expect he was ugly, pock-faced and oily, and the boys only verbally abused him, or occasionally threw balls at his head. However, one night, I awoke to someone holding me down—pinning me down—and covering my mouth. In the dark, I screamed and struggled, all too used to it after what the duchess did to me, but it was even more horrible there.

"I woke up the next day bruised all over, and I had no idea who my attackers were. Some said they were the boys a year up, others said they were from our class. I did not know. All the boys who tormented me had the same voice, same eyes, and they blended into one. I could not point them out, and the headmaster would not listen to me. Locks were not allowed in our school, and I did not want to go home, either."

Emmanuel looked over to Blair. "Does this answer your question, Blair?"

It was one of the few times he called his name, and Blair felt the iciness. He was humiliated. He regretted asking deeply, but he knew he could not change the past. He nodded, pressing his eyes together.

"But I knew it was because the boys were the sons of influential men. Politicians, lawyers, and even ministers. They would never be punished, and I had to deal with them myself. Nights after nights I stayed awake, and they knew, and stayed away, but I couldn't keep it up. I started falling asleep in class, and I was unable to concentrate on my studies, and teachers reprimanded me. Then one day, I was sent to the headmaster, and he gave me a trade.

"The headmaster at that time, and write his name down, clearly, Leopold Robert Shelton, told me I could go to his room; or I could stay in mine."

There was the banging of a fist on a table, and Emmanuel turned to see Blair standing, hand on the table.

"Tell me you did not—!"

"I did," Emmanuel replied calmly. "I became known as the school whore. The boys stayed away from me, but it was scribbled on all my books and on my desk. I read it, page after page of insults. I never knew why, but I could not throw it away. I thought I deserved it. Reading those dirty words made me understand, you see. It wasn't a trade at all. I had done such things with an old man of my free will."

"No, you didn't, Emmanuel!" Blair gritted his teeth. "You—you were sodomized by force."

"I did what I had to in order to survive. I became a whore." Emmanuel smiled. "You don't know how many times I've done it with men. And women. Even after I left school. For the smallest things, too. How did you think I convinced the duchess to allow me to become the duke, even after the death of Charles? There were her other two sons, after all. I had to get the title, get this position, somehow."