Gothic Romance - (LGBT)

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen 

Lord D'Anvers' grip tightened involuntarily on Jonathan's hand as he swung him around so that his back was now towards the other couple. 

He opened his mouth to say something scathing when Jonathan pre-empted him. 

"Is that man a friend of yours?" he asked, looking up at his Lordship with narrowed eyes.  

"An acquaintance, merely," D'Anvers answered, annoyed to find himself on the defensive. 

"Why is Fredericka afraid of him?" Jonathan persisted. 

"I haven't the least idea," D'Anvers said quellingly. "Now can we forget about them and concentrate on us for a moment?" 

He regretted his words a second later, as he saw Jonathan realise that he was still dancing in his, Sebastian's arms. He pulled violently away, just as the music stopped. Oh well, it had been fun while it lasted, thought his Lordship. Jonathan had stayed in his arms far longer than he had expected, perhaps he was starting to respond to the attraction between them, even if he was still refusing to admit it.  

Suddenly he wished they were back in the hotel room, where he could take Jonathan in his arms again, and press kisses onto his reluctant lips until he admitted he wanted him and surrendered ...  

In the background, Jonathan could see Lord Silverwood ushering a shrinking Fredericka out of the ballroom. He wanted to do something to help Fredericka but he couldn't think of anything that wouldn't cause a huge scene and possibly a scandal as well. It was hardly as if he could take her home with them.  

Jonathan had had enough. "I think it's time for me to go back to the hotel," he declared, trying to sound decisive and not sulky. 

"All right then," agreed Lord'D'Anvers, to Jonathan's surprise. His Lordship felt unaccountably depressed. Nothing had gone as he had hoped this evening, Jonathan hadn't needed or sought his protection, and as far as he could tell, he was the only one who had felt so much as a twinge of jealousy. Perhaps he was merely fooling himself, thinking that Jonathan might want him in return. 

Jonathan led the way out and paused for a moment in the doorway, his attention caught by Lord Silverwood pulling Frederick along the lane towards a hackney. Jonathan could see she was struggling to keep her footing on the cobblestones but evidently Silverwood thought she was being deliberately obstructive. With no warning, he struck her a violent blow across the face, making her stumble sideways. 

Without a second thought, Jonathan rushed forward. He didn't even hear Lord D'Anvers mutter an uncomfortable, "None of our business." 

Jonathan grabbed Silverwood by the shoulder, wrenched him around and punched him full in the face. At least that was what he intended, but quick as a flash, Silverwood brought his arm up and blocked the blow. The next minute Jonathan was flat on his back on the cobblestones, his head ringing. 

D'Anvers couldn't help rolling his eyes, youth, so impetuous. But then Silverwood drew his foot back and kicked Jonathan painfully in the side. In a matter of seconds it was Silverwood who hit the ground, out cold. D'Anvers stood for a moment, rubbing his knuckles then reached down a hand to haul Jonathan to his feet. 

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" he growled. 

Fredericka was watching in silent dread, cowering back against the side of the cab, one hand cupping her bruised cheek. 

"She can't go back to him," Jonathan told his Lordship, fervently. "The man's a brute! I'll take her somewhere safe," he added, thinking immediately of Ellen and her inn. Plans were racing through his head, coming out of his mouth already formed. "It's best if you don't know where," he told D'Anvers. "Deny everything and blame me. I'll see you back at the Clarendon." 

Without waiting for D'Anvers' approval, Jonathan helped Fredricka into the hackney and climbed in after her. A quick shout to the driver and they were off, rattling over the cobblestones. 

Rather bemusedly, D'Anvers found he was standing in the lane, shaking his head. He honestly couldn't tell what he felt at that moment. Utter disbelief, a touch of admiration perhaps? Who would have guessed Jonathan had so much determination in him? 

He sighed. Mind you, Jonathan had left him in the middle of a god-awful mess. He looked down at Silverwood who was still lying on the cobblestones, unconscious. What the hell was he going to do with him? 

~~~ 

"Oh dear," gasped Fredericka, wringing her hands. "What have you done? He will be so angry!" 

"You don't need to worry about him any more," Jonathan tried to be reassuring. "I'm taking you somewhere safe. You're not going back there." 

"You don't understand! He'll kill me!"  

"He'll have to find you first!" said Jonathan.  

"But where are we going?"  

"Some where safe," repeated Jonathan. "You can stay with my old nurse for a few days until I work something out. Don't worry." 

Fredericka wiped her eyes and blew her nose, trying hard to regain her composure. After awhile, another thought occurred to her. 

"Will your master be very angry with you?" she asked anxiously. 

Jonathan bit his lip. "I hope not. Not when he calms down. I'm sure he'll agree with me, we just couldn't leave you with that man. It would serve him right if we set the constable on him!" he added, rather obscurely. 

"It wouldn't do any good," Fredericka sounded resigned. "As long as I'm under twenty-one he can treat me as he likes, I have no rights." 

Jonathan was silent, knowing she was right. Minor's had few rights, if any, until they reached their majority. 

"How old are you now, may I ask?" 

"I'll be twenty-one in September."  

That was only a couple of months away. 

"That's not so bad. All we have to do is keep you away from him until then," declared Jonathan with a bracing cheerfulness. Inside he was feeling less confident. Then he thought of Lord D'Anvers. Sebastian would know what to do, he told himself. He tried to relax. He was certain Sebastian would help Fredericka, once the situation was explained to him properly, once he realised how adamant Jonathan was that she be saved. Well, almost certain.