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‘”… enjoying a beautiful Welsh spring here at Plas Newydd. We are all missing you terribly, Alfred – especially Horace – but we…”’
‘Oh, Horace…’ Alfred mused fondly, making Edward look up from the letter he was reading for him.
‘What is it, who’s--?’ Edward asked, seeing the warm look on Alfred’s face.
‘Nothing – “but we” what, Edward, go on, please, love.’
‘Right,’ Edward turned back to the letter. ‘”…but we are hoping to see you soon in London, once the season begins. Love, Mama.”’
‘Thank you, my dearest,’ Alfred sighed, stretching and yawning leisurely on the sizable curtained four-poster bed he shared with his lover and in which they had spent the afternoon, not wanting to return to Society, for all the splendid clubs and restaurants it had to offer.
‘My pleasure,’ Edward said, swiftly discarding of Lady Anglesey’s letter in favour of sidling up to Alfred and showering his unclad body in kisses.
If the thought had briefly occurred to him to ask who “Horace” was, Alfred’s low moans of rapture pushed it out of his mind entirely.
For the time being.
For Edward Drummond would hear this name again very soon.
***
Perhaps it was the sun, perhaps the book of poetry Alfred was reading, or the enchanting cavalcade of perfumes from the flowers of the Buckingham Palace garden (or Edward’s new and particularly well-fitting breeches) but they had barely walked for five minutes when Alfred suggested they fall back behind the group of Ladies in Waiting, stray from the party entirely, and instead pay a short visit to his own address.
‘Alfred, is that you?’ came a woman’s voice once they’d stepped inside Lord Alfred’s townhouse.
‘Oh, Mama!’ he exclaimed perhaps a little too loudly and next to him Drummond thanked his sound sense that he had decided not to attack Alfred’s mouth with kisses as soon as the front door closed, else Lady Anglesey would have walked in on them in rather a compromising position.
Drummond stepped aside politely.
‘My dear son! It’s so good to see you again at last! It’s been aeons! Your butler was just leaving when my coach arrived – I thought I’d only get here by tomorrow – and said you would only be home after dinner but, oh, you look so well! Have you grown yet taller?’
‘Mama, I am 27, if anything I am on the path to shrinking as of this day forth.’
Lady Anglesey laughed and turned her attentions to Drummond.
‘Drummond, this is my mother, Charlotte Paget, the Lady Anglesey. Don’t let her refined manners fool you, she was as wild in her youth as any respectable woman should only hope to be,’ Alfred said, earning himself a swatting on the arm by his mother’s fan. ‘Mama, this is Mr Edward Drummond, Private Secretary to Sir Robert Peel, and my very good friend. Remember him, Mama, he’s going to make a difference in the world.’
‘Ah, yes, Mr Drummond!’ Lady Anglesey said with recognition as they shook hands. ‘I have heard the dear Duke of Wellington praise you not once.’
Drummond blushed. ‘The Duke is as kind as he is brilliant, Lady Anglesey. Well, I am very glad I could make your acquaintance but I ought to…’ he said, moving to the door.
‘Oh you’re not leaving, are you, Edw- Drummond?’ Alfred asked.
‘I presume you would like some privacy to discuss family things or—’
But he was of course convinced to stay for a refreshing tea.
And hour later, Drummond excused himself to visit the water closet and when he came back down the stairs, his ears picked up on the name again:
‘... your father made sure they were taken care of – especially Horace!’
‘Oh, Horace, I miss him so!’
‘And he you, Alfred.’
‘But how is he?’
Edward frowned. Alfred had never mentioned a friend back in Wales about whom he was so enthusiastic. He remained behind the doorway, listening.
‘Very well, very well indeed!’ Lady Anglesey replied. ‘Everyone still admires his beauty, as you know.’
‘Oh how I know! Really, they don’t make them like him here in London.’
Behind the doorway, Edward’s mouth opened in silent indignation.
‘I’m sure you come across handsome ones at court. But it’s true, you and Horace shared a special bond…’
‘Indeed. He was my first and I his.’
Upon hearing this, Edward didn’t know what to think or do – his heart felt odd contractions and he wondered whether he was sick. How could Alfred talk about some man like this? He had only just stepped out two minutes ago!
‘I remember I used to take him down to the shores,’ Alfred continued – and was it bashfulness that Edward heard in his voice? ‘Every single day when the term let out and I could go back. Just us, down the shore – sometimes late into the evening.’
‘You never wanted to come home…’
‘No, whenever I could get my hands on him, I just wanted to take him to the beach and ride him—’
It was at this point that Drummond took a step back from the doorway in shock, elbowing a gas lamp off a small table by the wall, which landed on the hardwood floor with a loud crash.
‘Drummond?’ Alfred appeared in the doorway. ‘Is everything—’
‘Yes. Perfect! Everything is just perfect.’ Drummond replied far too quickly and loudly, in a tone that suggested everything was certainly far from perfect.
A maid appeared to clean up the mess and Drummond saw his escape, muttered apologies, and left.
Well he never…! Drummond was still aghast and shocked to the core at the conversation between Alfred and his mother earlier by the time he had got back to the House. Despite all the activities that he and Alfred had got up to in their private moments, he had never known him to engage in such a vulgar, unseemly chat, so openly – and with his own mother!
Of course, he may have misunderstood something, after all, said a sensible voice in his head. He was not a man to pay heed to hearsay – not in his line, as a civil servant and aspiring politician.
Still, he could not help being utterly confused.
But most of all, now he could not forget: who was this Horace person and what was his relation to Alfred?
***
He wasn’t exactly avoiding Alfred but he was still reluctant to face him after what he had heard. He found his mind wandering away from terribly important papers about the actual laws of the country to the evil little voice of the green-eyed monster.
Did Alfred love another?
One his parents preferred for him?
One who was apparently admired by all.
Therefore, Drummond was unsurprisingly hesitant when Alfred suggested they take a trip to Plas Newydd, came August.
‘Parliament won’t be sitting, Her Majesty can spare me until the opening. It would be the perfect time for a little break from all this. Don’t you find London much too stifling? Even now, I wish we hadn’t come here,’ Alfred gestured subtly around the restaurant where they were sitting, ‘I imagine prying eyes on us from all angles. Please, Edward, it has been a long held dream of mine to show you where I grew up. Besides, you’ve been ever so strange – so troubled. I hope you’re not coming down with something. I worry for you. A bit of country air would do you wonders, I feel sure of it.’
Of course there was no saying no to that.
So August found them in Anglesey, Wales.
In the Pagets’ family seat.
More specifically, in the pleasantly draughty drawing room of the house, at tea with Lord and Lady Anglesey.
‘Mama tells me you have been relocating the steeds, Papa,’ Alfred mentioned after the usual introductions and small talk.
‘Indeed, and we refurbished the winter garden,’ Lord Anglesey replied proudly. ‘We’re thinking about building a few cottages but only after the usual race – it’s taking up all our time to organize it again this year.’
‘That sounds rather splendid.’
‘We’re hoping it will be. You should stay for it, and you Mr Drummond.’
‘I’m not sure we could, Papa,’ Alfred hesitated, looking at Edward. ‘Alas, Parliament is to open soon and we ought to be back in London for it.’
‘That’s true. Shame, you could have seen Horace.’
There it was again, Drummond thought, placing his teacup back on the saucer much too forcefully.
‘Horace will be at the race?’ Alfred asked - with immense interest and delight, Drummond noticed. ‘I didn’t think he was up to racing anymore.’
‘On the contrary, he is in excellent shape!’
‘Indeed, Horace is not only known for his beauty but his stamina, isn’t that right, Alfred?’ Lady Anglesey chimed in, making Edward pale and blush and pale again.
‘Indeed!’ Alfred agreed gladly. ‘I can’t wait to see him again – Papa, do you think it’s possible?’
‘Of course, but perhaps tomorrow – we have planned a splendid dinner outdoors for your first night here.’
‘Are you quite well, Mr Drummond?’ Lady Anglesey asked him. ‘Did the journey wear you out so?’
‘Perhaps it did, Lady Anglesey,’ Drummond replied, trying to remain cordial and unassuming despite his being deeply upset. In the carriage, Alfred had reassured him that his parents knew about his aversion to marry but not about his relationship with Edward. They were planning on telling them over the course of this visit, would the moment present itself. However, now it seemed that Alfred brought him here just to then go out and meet some old “friend” of his? This was more than Drummond could take!
And Alfred wasn’t done breaking his heart yet:
‘You do look a bit peaky, Drummond. Perhaps a bit of a ride would freshen you up, too! I could introduce you to Horace! You’ll see, it’s splendid with him. I remember our rides in my youth – I trained with him, you know. We became the best of friends. The best… I hardly ever had to instruct him, he just knew what I wanted, he just understood me without words.’
‘Did he?’ Drummond asked, flabbergasted at this kind of talk. And in front of Alfred’s parents, too!
‘He really misses you so, Alfred. Could you not take him to London?’ Lady Anglesey asked.
‘Oh, he may be able to handle a bit of a race, those are not long affairs, as opposed to the journey from here to London. I’m afraid I wore him out. His back was never the same after his time with me.’
Drummond let out a cry of indignation. He placed his cup on the table and excused himself before all but storming out of the room.
Alfred was as confused as his parents. He was quick to follow Drummond upstairs.
He found him in his room, pacing, visibly upset.
‘Drummond…? Edward? By heavens, what on Earth has got into you?’
Drummond stopped, glaring at Alfred utterly affronted.
‘What has got into me?! What has got into you?’ he demanded.
‘Me? What have I done?’ Alfred asked, even more puzzled than before.
‘Really? Are you honestly being coy now? Coy with me, when you were quite blunt and open downstairs. I mean, really, Alfred, this is just shocking.’
Alfred closed the door. ‘Edward, my dearest, I have not the faintest idea what you can mean!’
‘What I can… Is this really how you wish to treat me? I know we cannot be properly engaged but there are some rules I was stupid enough to think we were following but it seems you have not had the same idea. I could never be unfaithful to you, whereas… Don’t worry, I shan’t even bother to unpack. I’m leaving first thing in the morning.’
‘But why, why in God’s name would you—’ Alfred was on the verge of tears. Tears of frustration and worry that he had offended Edward without even knowing it.
‘I’d prefer to be out of your hair. Don’t worry, Horace will keep you company.’
‘Horace? I don’t care about him, I care that you are not offended at something I haven’t a clue I have done! I have never been unfaithful to you and I do not intend to. Whyever would the idea even cross your mind? I do not understand you. My love—’
‘No need to “my love” me, Alfred. Don’t worry, I won’t intrude on your time here with Horace,’ he spat out the wretched name. ‘Horace, who’s admired for his beauty, Horace, who was your first, your most special friend, whom you took to the shore until late, he who has excellent stamina and who has no parallel in London. Did you pack your diary in my bag on purpose? Of course you did, so I could find it and read it accidentally, about Horace and his fine black hair off which the moonlight seems to bounce stunningly at night. I’ve heard enough, Alfred. I realise where I am not wanted. And clearly, you do not want me, you prefer another. Thus, I take my leave tomorrow and I shan’t ever waste your time that you could be spending with the famed, admired, worshipped Horace.’
‘Are you quite finished, Edward?’ Alfred asked, infuriatingly calmly.
‘I… I suppose I am!’ Edward replied, straightening his cravat, which had gone askew in the heat of the quarrel.
‘Good,’ Alfred said, not at all about to cry from frustration anymore but biting back a smirk. He placed one hand on Edward’s shoulder and gestured towards the window with the other. ‘Then, I would like you to meet…’ and here he waited until Drummond had properly turned towards the view of the grounds, ‘… Horace.’
Drummond frowned, blinked, searched, and squinted, and frowned again.
‘Horace? Where is he, I do not see any man.’
‘But he’s there…’ Alfred suggested slyly, amusement suppressed but peeking out through his voice. He pointed out the window to help Drummond. ‘There.’
Still nothing.
‘There…’ Alfred said again, until the penny well and truly dropped for Drummond. At last.
‘Oh,’ Drummond uttered and he felt his eyelashes drop as the embarrassment of it all washed over him in a flash.
‘Yes… “Oh”’ Alfred repeated and could not help but snort.
‘Horace… Horace is a…’
‘A horse,’ Alfred supplied and with that, promptly started to laugh.
‘Of course… Of course it’s a horse,’ Drummond repeated to himself, staring at the poor innocent black steed that was peacefully grazing on the grass outdoors.
‘Edward,’ Alfred managed to say between fits of laughter, ‘Were you… were you jealous… of my horse?’
‘Of course it’s a wretched horse,’ Drummond still muttered, feeling like a prize idiot.
‘Jealous… of my horse…’
‘Yes, very funny, Alfred.’
‘Edward Drummond – seething with jealousy! Of my first little old horse, Horace.’
‘I’m glad you’re amused, Alfred.’
‘Oh, I am, terribly! And awfully taken aback! Edward, really, is that what you’ve been thinking?’
‘Well, it was just… you kept mentioning a man’s name… all the time… How could I have known?’
‘That’s all very well but is this how you would behave in the event that another man – a human man – would seem to contend with you for my affections?’
‘I suppose I… Well, you’re the most important thing in my life, Alfred. I was blinded by…’
‘Passion?’
‘..love.’ Drummond said at the same time as Alfred spoke, finally making him go silent with the sweet admission ringing in the air.
‘I love you too,’ Alfred replied, heart swelling.
Feeling bashful again under Alfred’s gaze, he went on: ‘And I overheard you talk about him with your mother, I thought…’
‘Oh! Oh wait… Did you think we were discussing a man?’ Alfred remembered wildly. ‘By God, Edward, did you think that was about a man?!’
And he burst out in a fresh fit of laughter again.
‘Well, you certainly seemed keen on gushing about his beauty and how admired he is and that you miss taking him to the shores and—’
‘Oh, good God, Edward!’ Alfred exclaimed, remembering vividly what he had said next about riding Horace. ‘Did you honestly think I would talk about a man like that with my own mother?’
‘Fine, I am a fool.’
‘Yes,’ Alfred sighed the last of his laughs off, ‘But at least you’re a painfully beautiful fool.’
‘Really? I thought they don’t make them like him in London,’ Edward joked, accepting his fate. He would never be allowed to forget this whole embarrassing episode.
‘Oh, they make them just splendidly in London,’ Alfred said in a low voice, coming close to Edward, teasing his lips with the promise of a kiss. Until… ‘Men, that is. Not horses – I do prefer our fine specimens here. I just thought I ought to make that clear before any confusion…’
Drummond sighed and turned away from Alfred, shaking his head.
Alfred did not let him go that easily, of course. Once he stopped mocking Edward, they could resume their kissing, as passionately as if they had never stopped for a moment.
The next day, Edward was cordially introduced to Horace.
And they got on perfectly amicably.