A Gentleman Never Does

A Gentleman Never Does Part 3

He hadn't meant the shocked whisper to be audible, but a few titters from nearby gamers and Gareth's narrowed eyes told him he'd once again erred in his judgment.

"Oh, la. It's all the crack, you know. Now come on, I'm a little light in the pocket and I mean to make a monkey off you this evening to assuage the hurt your neglect causes me."

There was too much truth to the words for them not to cause Gideon embarrassment. He was uncomfortable with Gareth, and he did neglect his old friend as a result. But Gareth knew well why. His guts tightened and he couldn't stop the scowl that crossed his face, though he quickly assumed a blank expression. "Stop it. I apologize. I didn't intend for anyone to overhear, and you are well aware of that. This foppish playacting does you no credit."

"You're right. Neither does your pretending we were never friends do you credit. Now do we game, or not?" Gareth pushed past him in a practiced stroll, heading for a table, assuming Gideon would follow where he led, as always.

Gideon gave up resisting. It seemed that since they'd left school and completed their Grand Tour together, he'd done nothing but resist his oldest friend. He just couldn't give Gareth what the man wanted, and it seemed better to stay away than risk exposure. Gareth... Damnation. Gareth flaunted himself to attract attention, tight jackets, shiny boots, lace cuffs and embroidered waistcoats, mincing manners and high heeled evening slippers. How could any man look at Gareth and not suspect that he was a man who preferred the company of men?

If Gideon wore such fashions, walked and spoke in such a way, he'd fear that the world would discern his tastes, his desires, that his family would be humiliated, that he would be exposed for what he was. No. Gideon was comfortable hunting, playing cards, sporting. When a society matron said of him that he preferred the company of men, it wasn't a slur on his manhood, but a muted approval of his manliness.

It was at once a lie, and the truth. He sat on the spindly chair at the little table and glared at his friend, who was making a limp-wristed show of shuffling the playing cards. "If you're short of funds, I don't wish to gamble with you for money."

Gareth smirked, painted lips twisting. "Such an honorable man you are. Fine then, if we shall not play for money, then we play for love."

A chill washed over Gideon. He shifted on the delicate chair, fearing it might splinter if he abused it too much. "For love?"