"By some ardent enthusiasts Chess has been elevated into a science or an art. It is neither; but its principle characteristic seems to be—what human nature mostly delights in—a fight." ― Emanuel Lasker

Harry captured Louis' pawn.

They lay stretched out on the four-poster bed in paisley dressing robes, the curtains of the canopy drawn shut around them so that the bed became a room within a room.

A silver serving tray sat beside the chessboard with crumpets, berries and tea. Louis lifted the porcelain cup to his lips as he contemplated his next move.

"You've left your king at the center of the board. He's unguarded. Not castling is very risky," Harry reprimanded. "I thought you said you played chess with your brother?"

Louis inched his rook forward. "We did, but I'm his little brother. He let me win."

Harry captured Louis' vulnerable knight. "You're not my brother. I'll do no such thing."

Louis frowned. He excelled at intuitive games, like poker, where he could deceive his opponent and conceal his hand. Strategic games like chess, where his pieces were on the board for his opponent to see, proved more difficult.

It was late morning. The sun pricked through the fabric of the canopy illuminating the checkered board and ivory pieces. It was light enough beneath the canopy to know a new day had begun but dark enough to pretend otherwise.

Louis was feeling amorous and tempted to forgo the chess game but thought it prudent to pace himself. He wasn't sure they could temper their passions. Harry's flushed chest betrayed his arousal but he too acted enthralled by the game.

"Your weakness, Louis, is defense. You underestimate your opponent. When calculating your move, and your opponent's possible responses, pretend you are he. Think of the best possible move for him in response to your next move, and assume he will play it."

"The best possible move..." Louis repeated.

Shared memories of the previous night flared between them and Harry looked down with a shy smile.

Louis moved his bishop. "Not the move you were anticipating?"

"I was hoping for another," he confessed.

Even lovelier than touching Harry was simply basking in the knowledge that he could. What bliss! He could see why Harry liked to collect coins: there was deep pleasure in possessing one so rare.

It was Harry's move. His thoughtful green eyes rested on the board as Louis turned to the tray to take another bite of his crumpet. When he turned back he saw that Harry had captured his rook. And slipped out of his robe.

Well played.

Harry lay on his side, head nestled in the crook of his arm.

Louis stared hard at the board and tried to ignore him. "You're sore," Louis reminded him, eyes fixed on his remaining knight.

"I don't mind," Harry sang, voice as lilting as the lark on the windowsill.

Louis stayed strong and ignored his pleas. "It's your move."

With the swoop of his arm Harry knocked over all the pieces. "Oh dear. I guess the game is over."

Minx!

Louis pushed the tray and chessboard aside. Harry was looking quite sure of himself but Louis was confident he could still make him blush. He rolled the boy onto his back. Harry's chest rose and fell rapidly with excitement.

Louis leaned down and nuzzled between the young Duke's legs. He still smelled of lavender from their bath.

Harry grew hard and looked away embarrassed by how easily roused he was.

Louis didn't find it embarrassing in the least. He found it endearing.

"You're too tender to mount. I'll take you in my mouth."

Harry covered his face with both hands, a note of shame in his objection: "I can't ask that of you."

"It's my pleasure." Quite literally. Louis was growing hard thinking about it.

He wrapped his lips around the tip of Harry's pink and aching manhood. Harry's eyes were wide with disbelief. Louis moved slowly at first then quickly, hungrily, relishing the boy's taste and texture on his tongue. He drew his lips back and Harry placed a hand on his head with a whimper, urging him to continue.

"Spill inside my mouth," Louis instructed.

These words sent Harry into a frenzy. But instead of letting Louis guide him back to his lips, he immediately turned around and spread. "Take me."

Louis shook his head. "Harry! The entire purpose of this demonstration was to give you pleasure without mounting you."

"Yes, mount me," he agreed, ignoring everything else Louis just said.

Faced with the softness of Harry's pale round flesh and his silky pink entrance, which seemed to invite him despite or perhaps because of its tenderness, he began to weaken.

He could be gentle, he thought, stroking the tender spot with his finger. He didn't have to have him quite so deeply. What would be the harm indulging one more time? It was still morning after all. Plenty of time to rest and recover before the hunt, he reasoned. Harry was right: it was cruel to deny the boy pleasure when he displayed nothing but sweetness.

Louis held his hips and licked the supple flesh that beckoned him. "I can't resist."

He slipped off his robe and reached through the canopy for the oil on the side board.

"Yes," Harry breathed as he reached behind to guide Louis inside him.

Then suddenly they heard the door open. Someone had entered the room.

"Dash it!" Louis hissed, wrapping the robe around himself as Harry dove beneath the bed sheet.

The curtains around the bed flung open and Frederick stood before them with a wry smile. "Hello lovers."

Roy was behind him holding four glasses and a bottle of port. "Drink anyone? It's almost noon." He looked from one red-faced Duke to the other. "I hope we're not interrupting anything."

"I hope we are." The Viscount climbed into bed between them and tried to steal a glance at Harry's body beneath the sheet.

Roy hunkered down on the other side of Harry and brushed a thumb along his swollen lips. "He's aroused."

"You're frightening him! Stop it!" Louis barked, trying to swat them away.

"Why? He's already lost his innocence," Frederick said.

"He's innocent still," Louis countered protectively.

"He appears rather sinful to me." Roy mussed the young Duke's curls. "Have you not had him this morning? He's aching for it."

Harry drew his knees up to his chest completely mortified. Poor lamb. Did these heathens have no respect for modesty?

Roy popped the cork on the bottle of port and poured them each a glass, while Frederick nicked a strawberry from the serving tray and slipped out of his boots. They were certainly making themselves comfortable.

Frederick was wearing Roy's pin. The yellow gold caught the light and mirrored the luster of his hair. It had migrated from his pocket to his velvet waistcoat where he flaunted it proudly. Harry couldn't take his eyes off it. Did Harry want Louis to give him his pin? No, it was too soon. Harry would find it cloying. He didn't want to appear possessive.

The Viscount and the Earl apprised Louis on the gossip in the house, which was plentiful in the few hours Harry and Louis had been tucked away. Club members were furious about the postponement of the hunt. Some were threatening to leave Warwick, Bilsdale or both while Beardsley was staging a coup.

Louis, an expert in testing the patience of those around him, remained unfazed.

"It's a mutiny," Roy said lighting a cigarette, using one of their half empty teacups as an ashtray.

"Did Teddy not tell them that the Duke of Somerset is feeling unwell?"

"Your valet must have thought that would arouse suspicion, so he said you were feeling unwell. Tempers would have cooled had your cousin not fanned the flames."

"If Clarence is against me, the club will only hold me in higher regard. I knew there was a reason I invited him."

"He knows your harboring a boy up here and he's telling anyone who will listen. The insipid man takes every opportunity to deliver a blow to your reputation."

Louis winced.

Yes, and Clarence was hoping to deliver the final blow: convince the world Louis was a murderer. Just when he thought the past was long buried, his cousin would dig it up again. Would he ever find peace in this life?

Out the corner of his eye he saw Frederick and Harry laying side by side whispering to each other and laughing softly into the pillow. The Viscount fixed the dark curls that Roy had mussed and placed his hand congenially on Harry's shoulder. What was that serpent teaching him now?

They finished their port. The small dessert glasses clinked together as they set them down on the silver tray. Roy snuffed out his cigarette and stretched his long heavy legs among the fallen chess pieces, the bed dipping beneath his weight. He laced his hands behind his head and stared up at the canopy. "What shall we do this afternoon, gentleman?"

The words were vague but the implication clear, they wanted to join Louis and Harry in their affections.

"No," Louis said, knowing Harry would be offended at the mere suggestion.

"Then let us watch you," Frederick offered with a coquettish head tilt.

Harry pulled the sheet up over his shoulders, petrified.

"No," Louis said, more firmly this time.

He surprised himself with his sternness. It was always he who brought a gaggle of boys up to their room at Eton, where he traded them with the Earl like playing cards; he who would ravage the Viscount and ask his footmen to watch.

Curiously, with Harry, he had no desire to trade or invite others to look upon him.

"Then perhaps you'd like to watch us?" Roy shrugged off his tweed waistcoat and tossed it to the floor. Roughly, the Earl wrestled Frederick onto his back and climbed on top of him. The blue-blooded Viscount looked as though he might shatter like a porcelain teacup, but he could withstand and even enjoyed the Earl's brutishness.

Louis poured himself another glass of port and nibbled a strawberry.

Frederick loved the theatre--to him, the bed was a stage—and Roy, with his cut jaw and booming voice, was the perfect leading man. The Viscount's slender fingers worked over the front of Roy's trousers. He was about to unleash the Earl from his undergarment when Harry cried, "No!"

Louis dropped the strawberry. "How dare you!" he chimed in, a beat too late. "Leave us. Harry has witnessed enough of your depravity."

Roy and Frederick exchanged confused looks.

"Goodness gracious. Have you no decency!" Louis added for good measure.

"Yes, Sir Clarence," they mocked in unison.

Rolling their eyes, the Earl and the Viscount collected their clothes and put on their boots. Frederick nicked another strawberry from the tray.

As they sulked out of the room Louis threw his arms around Harry to console him.

"Darling, are you alright? I don't know what came over them. They're positively beastly. What can I do to comfort you?"

Harry saw right through him, though he wasn't angry. "I know your tastes are exotic, Louis, but mine are simple. I only wish to be with you."

Boys had said these words to Louis before but never had he understood this feeling or felt similarly. The young Duke was awaiting his response. Was this a good time to fetch his pin and pledge his heart?

As he debated this, Harry rose from the bed naked and locked the bedchamber door. Understandably, he was afraid they would be interrupted again.

"I only wish to be with you," Louis said finally.

Harry smiled. "How do you wish to be with me?"

He wanted to be with him in every way, but hearing those precious words roll off his tongue made Louis crave one thing and one thing only.

"Your mouth," he whispered guiltily. This was presumptuous and he knew it. He would not normally have asked this of one so inexperienced, but Harry had been very honest a moment ago and he felt inspired to do the same.

Harry kneeled with a blush and Louis sat on the edge of the bed, perhaps a little too eagerly. Harry unfastened the silk belt of Louis' robe and let it fall open. Louis thought he might begin by kissing it when suddenly Harry opened his mouth like he was receiving Holy Communion. Lord, Louis thought, he wasn't going to last long. He cradled the back of the boy's head and guided it toward him as he slid past his lips into heavenly softness of his mouth.

Harry either wasn't paying attention to Louis' demonstration earlier or he simply didn't care because he held the Duke's hips and took him as deeply as he could until Louis pressed against the back of his throat. Louis was too aroused to advise against such a bold maneuver. Harry wasn't wasn't even moving his head but the sight of the boy's lips wrapped around him excited Louis beyond reason. He widened his thighs and ran a hand through Harry's dark curls. "Yes, that's it." His green eyes flipped up at Louis, unfocused with lust. Harry moved only to try and take Louis deeper. The boy moaned and Louis felt the vibration all around him.

He was grateful Harry wasn't moving much because it looked and felt too good and, dear God, he never wanted this moment to end.

What he didn't anticipate was Harry's own desire taking hold. Harry slid his mouth back and simultaneously slipped a hand between his legs to touch himself, Louis' tip resting precariously on his bottom lip.

Louis promptly spilled all over the boy's lips and down his chest.

Harry licked his lips bewildered. "Oh dear."

"I'm so sorry!" Louis said, furiously wiping his face with a linen napkin from the serving tray. "I should have warned you." This was not the romantic finale he had envisioned.

"It's my fault. I didn't do it correctly." Harry climbed back up on the bed.

"No! You did wonderfully. Too wonderfully. It excited me to watch you."

He brightened. "Thank you. I improvised."

Harry was so darling, Louis didn't know whether to kiss him or cry.

"Everything you do excites me. I'm mad for you and you know it." Louis put his head in Harry's lap. "I'll mount you if you like, I'll do whatever you wish, I swear it. You only need ask."

He stroked Louis' hair. "There is one thing I'd like you to do."

"What's that?"

"Defend your king."

He picked up the fallen chess pieces and one by one set them on the board.

Louis laughed and rubbed his hands together gamely. He was no better at chess than he was that morning, but he now knew where his weakness lay.

♞

Sir Clarence was facing the fire with his hands clasped behind his back when William entered the library.

Papers with his writings littered the leather desktop. His pen strokes were so heavy, inkblots dotted the pages like drops of dried blood.

William had never approached a member of the gentry with information on another, but Sir Clarence was not like most noblemen. He worked for wages in London and spent more time in the servant's hall than he did the drawing room. When William was seven, he convinced the former Duke to increase his mother's weekly wage so William could have a new pair of shoes. After spearheading the resistance that led to the Cotton Mill riots he became something of a legend. He lived among the rich but he fought for the poor.

William hugged the medical journal snugly inside his jacket. "You're looking for information about your cousin."

He swiveled around. His expression was not unkind but it was serious. "What exactly are you implying?"

"Nothing! Only, I might have something that could help you."

"The Duke and I may have our differences but I would never plot against my own family," Sir Clarence said drily.

The footman chastised himself. Of course a man such as he wouldn't reveal his plans to just anyone, least of all William who up until that moment was devoted to the Duke. William was a fool. As he turned to walk away, Clarence saw the corner of the journal poking out of his jacket.

"What do you have there?"

"It's a medical journal, with some missing pages, Sir."

Calmly, Sir Clarence said, "Sit."

William sat in the mahogany chair. No one had ever invited him to sit in this room. Then without looking up from the desk he spoke the lie he'd rehearsed in his head.

"The Duke of Somerset found it in the forest and returned it to my master. I heard him say that you were investigating the fire for foul play, and possessed the missing pages that were the catalyst. He's been deceiving you. The Dukes are lovers, and co-conspirators in concealing my master's crime... I stole it for you." William rubbed the back of his neck and anxiously tried to justify his deception. "It's just like Cotton Mill riot isn't it, Sir? Doing the wrong thing to stand up for what's right?"

Sir Clarence's small eyes lit up through his spectacles. "You are indeed standing up for what's right, my boy." He circled around the large partners desk, his charcoal tailcoat trailing behind him like a cloud of smoke. "Men like the Duke escape the law because of their title. One day there will be no titles, no masters and servants, no rich and poor. In the new world a boy like you will be as worthy as any Duke."

William's eyes pricked with tears. He could scarcely imagine a world where he was worthy.

"Now give it to me."

William paused. "What will happen to my master if he's found guilty? Will they take his land? He was only a child when it happened."

"Hand me the journal."

He pulled it out of his jacket and had a sickening feeling. "Will he be put in prison?"

"Give it to me!" he thundered.

William let Sir Clarence take the journal from him. He flipped through the pages and examined Louis' notations, written in the unsure hand of a child. He caressed the jagged spine where William and not Louis had torn out the pages. 

"Send for my carriage."

"Are you going to the magistrate?"

"No, the High Circuit Court. I need to reach Teesside by nightfall."

"Please tell me what will happen to the Duke if the court finds him guilty?"

They walked through the rotunda at a brisk clip. The hounds in the oil painting seemed to spring to life out the corner of his eye.

Because Sir Clarence refused to employ a valet, his cousin's footman fetched his cloak.

"What is that song they sang during the riot, William? Do you remember?"

William sang it:

How comes it that ye toil and sweat

And bear the oppressor's rod

For cruel man who dare to change

The equal laws of God?

How come that man with tyrant heart

Is caused to rule another,

To rob, oppress and, leech-like, suck

The life's blood of a brother?

"Blood for blood." Sir Clarence snapped on his black gloves. "The punishment is death."

♞

Harry dozed off after their last game. The young Duke had won. His fingers curled around Louis' ivory knight as he slept.

Louis would give Harry his pin, he decided, but not today. Tomorrow at dawn, before the hunt, he would take him to the spot where they shared their first kiss and pledge his heart. He could hardly wait but wait he must if he wanted the moment to be perfect.

His gaze fell on the stables out the window. He would have to ask the groom to prepare Achilles and Albertine for their ride in the morning.

Then, just as he was about to return to bed, he spotted William below loading a carriage. Louis frowned. Had one of the club members really decided to leave? This did not bode well for his reelection as club president.

But it was his cousin who appeared on the flagstone and with great haste. He jumped into the carriage and tore down the dusty path before the door had even slammed shut.

Harry rubbed his eyes and yawned, awakened by the clomping of hooves and the squeak of carriage wheels. He stepped over to Louis and wrapped his arms around his lover's neck.

"Who is leaving?" he asked.

"All of our worries," Louis replied.

A/N: Checkmate.

We are getting SO close to the end of this story! I can't believe it!!!! Everything will come to a head over the next three chapters. I hope I can pull this off.

Understandably, H&L did not invite F&R to join in their affections. I'm toying with the idea of writing a bonus chapter (once the story is done) where they do. I'm conflicted. Let me know if this is something you would like to read or if you have strong opinions about it either way.

The protest song that William recites is a real Victorian political protest poem by one of the working class. The author is unknown.

I know things are looking rough but... Louis is going to give Harry his pin! How do you think Harry will react?