The Right Hand Of The Father

chapter 7

He started into the house, not meeting Billy Lee or Cato’s eyes. Didn’t need to see their disapproval of him as they watched their master travel into New Orleans and leave the house empty except for the servants. He’d need to tell Sadie and Daniella that dinner was canceled and instead of porridge the servants would be eating roast chicken and fresh vegetables because this late? This late Sadie had already started cooking and Mr. Washington would not want the food to go to waste.
He pushed open the door between the dining room and the kitchen and saw that Cato had already beaten him there. 

“He left then?” Sadie asked, glaring at the chicken on it’s spit. “Just decided to go into New Orleans?”

“Apparently,” Alexander said and grimaced at her obvious annoyance.

“Did he say if he’ll be back for breakfast?” Sadie glared at him.

“Sadie,” Cato murmured. “He’s gone on personal business.”

“Gone to visit one of his boy whores,” Sadie huffed. “Seems like the only thing he thinks about anymore. Turned into a randy old goat he has. Doesn’t make no sense, Mr. Washington used to be a sensible gentleman.”

“Sadie,” Cato’s voice was sharper now. “Why don’t you and Daniella get us a bottle of ale and then go on out and see to your garden.”

“My garden don’t—”

Cato raised an eyebrow at her and Sadie huffed, crossed her arms over her chest and then shook her head.

“Ask Billy Lee if he could join us.”

Instead of saying anything she just glared and then grabbed Daniella’s sleeve and tugged her out of the kitchen.

Cato sat at the kitchen table and motioned for Alexander to sit across from him.

He took the offered chair and stared cautiously at the other man. Tried to figure out why he looked so tense. Mr. Washington always spent a night each week in town. Went to dinner with other exiles.

Alexander hadn’t known he was visiting a whorehouse. Wasn’t surprised exactly that he had a lover. A boy. His master hadn’t hidden his preferences when he had retrieved Alexander from the Whiskey Eyed Lass. When he’d kissed him in the carriage.

Something hot and dark and spiky curled in his stomach though at the thought of Mr. Washington kissing another man like he had Alexander. That someone else would feel his lips on them. Feel the strength of his arms wrapped around their body. Would have those eyes stare at them as he’d stared at Alexander in the bathhouse, hot and greedy and wanting.

A bought boy would not appreciate his master as he deserved. Would not know that he carried his tension in his shoulders and that he often needed a glass of warm milk before he slept. That he preferred to keep extra blankets in his rooms rather than leave a fire in the grate. Would not see how he was smart and he was kind and he had a head for figures. They would not know how he spoiled Nelson with sugar cubes and always brushed the horse himself after their rides, crooning to the stallion as he cleaned it’s coat to a glossy sheen.

A harlot could not care for Mr. Washington like he deserved. Would not. He would look at Alexander’s master and see a man with coins in his pockets to be serviced and sent away as soon as possible.

He shifted in his seat as Cato continued to stare at him.

The kitchen door creaked as Billy Lee made his way into the room, two stone bottles of ale in one hand and three mugs dangling from the fingers of his other. “He looks like you shot his dog.”

“The boy just realized where Mr. Washington’s been sneaking off to.”

“To see that Ben Tallmadge,” Billy Lee said slowly, his eyes dark and appraising on Alexander’s. “A New Yorker. Came south with his da all those years ago. Old man died and left the boy alone. Mr. Washington’s always been a bit fond of the boy. Not that many would blame him. He’s a pretty enough bit of flesh.”