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Bless Us With Content

Ashton Laytham was a happy little boy until, at the age of seven, he lost his parents. Sent to Fayerweather to be brought up by his uncle and his uncle’s wife, he was perceived to be an unhappy, unlovable child. Shunned by family and servants and permitted no friends to visit, he grows to adulthood alone and aloof, with only an occasional illicit rendezvous to lighten his days.<br><br>When his uncle dies, leaving the estate virtually bankrupt, it’s left to Ashton to make good on his uncle’s gaming debts and save Fayerweather. But how? The family talisman, worth thousands of pounds, has been stolen and the suspects vanished in the night, leaving Ashton to face the loss of the home he’s come to love.<br><br>Geo Stephenson, who works in His Majesty’s civil service, has ghosts of his own. The product of a marriage of convenience, Geo has known all his life his father never loved his mother, and he vows that will never happen to him. Marked by a physical scar earned in battle, none of his previous lovers could bear looking at it without shuddering; his mental scars are due to the many friends lost in useless battles. Geo arrives with a fistful of Sir Eustace Laytham’s IOUs and a solution: Ashton accommodating him in bed, thereby paying off the debt.<br><br>Attracted to Geo in spite of himself and desperate for any human kindness, Ashton agrees ... never expecting to lose his heart to a man who has sworn he’ll never give his. Can these two men find a measure of happiness together?

Tinnean · LGBT+
Not enough ratings
104 Chs

Chapter 3

I stood at the window and kept my back to the door. Tears slid down my cheeks, and when Jane entered, I made sure they were unseen by her.

“I’ve your tea, Master Ashton. I’ll just leave it here on this little table then.”

Ashamed and mortified at having been struck, horrified at feeling blood dribble down my legs from my broken knees, I refused to acknowledge her presence, even as she tried to make me feel welcome to some degree and chattered as she laid a fire in the corner fireplace.

“There’s a jug of warm water on the washstand for you to wash.” She fell silent at my unresponsiveness and set about unpacking my meagre belongings. Finally, she said, “Well, I’m done. Ring if you need anything, Master Ashton. But it won’t be me as is coming up here again,” she muttered as she closed the door behind her, and again the key was turned in the lock.

Alone once more, I crossed to the washstand, wet a cloth, and dabbed at my knees as gently as I could, while I wept silent tears. 2