Part 12:

The company returned to the house that night with enough fowl for the kitchen 
staff to make a good plentiful dinner. Lord Lee grudgingly admitted that he had
been bested with the rifle but in the end avoided the subject of shooting as 
much as possible. He instead turned the conversation to Ian and talked of 
changing the marble on the other man’s foyer. 

Viggo did not mind this over site of his achievement that day, as he had other
things on his mind. 

He thought of the delicious feel of young Orlando’s body pressed up against his
that day in the forest. Viggo’s only regret was that the old fool had called to
the boy before Viggo had the chance to fuck him. 

His lips spread into a devilish grin when he remembered how the boy trembled in
fear before him. His presence along could make the boy shake, and Viggo loved 
having that effect on people. It was his favorite form of seduction. He first 
made his prey fear him, and then he claimed them, and made them want him. It 
would only be a matter of time before the boy would give into his advances 
willingly. Perhaps even the next time they saw each other, maybe in the library,
the boy would spread his legs and beg Viggo to take him.

The dinner went by at quite a sluggish place, Lord Astin going on in a bubbly 
manner about Lord Mortensen’s shooting aim in a quite childlike manner. He had 
obviously been quite impressed by the man’s ability, and had insisted to his 
wife that he had never quite seen such accuracy with a rifle before. Lady Astin
and Lady Pitt listened, rather intrigued. Lord Pitt and Lord Mortensen occupied
themselves with quiet chuckles and quiet side conversation. 

Lady Smith obviously was not entertained by such discourse, and looked around 
for a servant to correct. She was quite disappointed to see that they were all 
in their proper positions. She saw the reason then…Miss Dench was standing in 
the corner, keeping a close hawk eye on everyone. Lady Smith smiled at herself.
She so loathed the fact that the woman was a servant and could not have been 
born to higher breeding. The two of them could have really gotten on well, and 
maintained a steady friendship. Now however, the old woman was forced to 
secretly admire the old housekeeper, and let her regard remain a secret…to most
at least. How she loathed convention.

Once, many years ago, when the two of them were much younger, Miss Dench had 
been cleaning in the library where Lady Smith was reading by the fire. Lady 
Smith had been drinking a fine brandy that Lee liked to keep hidden, when she 
saw the other woman. Miss Dench had always walked around with a strong presence
about her. Never once did she cast her eyes down from force of nerves, nor 
stumble about, nor set on airs. She was a woman who had accepted her place in 
life, and accepted it with vigor. Lady Smith held the way the woman took to her
work with pride in high regard. She was truly the perfect servant. 

Lady Smith had then gone against her own class and extended a glass of Brandy to
the head housekeeper and offered her a seat. The two had sat in silence for a 
few moments, but in those few moments of shared silence, they were equals. To 
this day, both women held those moments as one of the highlights of their lives.

Now, they remained in respectful acknowledgement of each other, letting only a
short glance remind them of their amicability. Lady Smith raised her glass 
slightly in toast before taking a little sip of full bodied wine. She looked 
around the table to see what Lady Pitt was occupied in and saw her listening to
her husband talk with Lord Mortensen. She turned to Lady Astin only in 
desperation, but saw that the woman was also far too engaged in her husband’s
story. 

The old woman twisted her nose in distaste, and decided to attempt to change the
subject. “So, Lord Mortensen, you disappeared for a while this afternoon in the
forest. Whatever were you doing?”

The man looked at her and his eyes showed disinterest. In truth, Mortensen did 
not find this old hag worth of his time, but he had to maintain his image in 
front of the other guests. This desire was also the only thing that kept him 
from replying, ‘about to fuck Lord Lee’s lovely young valet.’ Instead, he leaned
back in his seat and idly poked at his fowl as he said, “I was merely taking a 
break from shooting. A few of the birds I shot had fallen into the woods, and I
thought I would collect them. Alas, I was only able to find the one. I do so 
dislike wasting good game.”

“A pity indeed,” Lady Astin chimed in. “If the poor creature must die, it should
at least to be put to use.”

“I completely agree, madam.” Mortensen said, taking an appreciative drink of his
wine. He turned his focus to Lee for a moment, speaking idly as though it were 
of no great importance. “I was considering extending my stay for a few days. 
This holiday has been most relaxing, and I would hate to return so suddenly to 
the constant excitement of my own home. You would not find this an 
inconvenience, would you?”

Lee took a deep drink of his own glass of wine and spoke in similar tones. “I do
not see that as a problem, Viggo. That would actually work out well, as I do 
need some time to speak to you, and I would prefer it to be in person as opposed
to written correspondence. It is so informal.”

“Thus often the basis for its appeal,” Viggo said with a chuckle, raising a
similar response from the others. “But indeed, I would never deny you time for 
conversation, due to the kindnesses you have bestowed on me.”

“Very good,” Lee said, returning his attention to the fowl he was cutting. He 
was extremely put off that Ian had to leave the next day, as was the other man,
but he would surely be back within the month. Lord McKellen often preferred to
spend his time at Lord Lee’s estates as opposed to his own, a thing that many 
people gossiped about but Lee enjoyed to no end. They had on occasion joked 
about moving in together like a pair of spinsters. Christopher Lee found this a
very likely possibility in the next few years. They were both getting older, and
each was sick of managing their own house alone. 

They had both talked recently about having Ian move in after Sean and Orlando 
were married, and let the couple and Miss Dench rule the household and take care
of them while they spent their days sitting in the sun on the terrace drinking 
port and smoking. Ian had found this idea extremely enticing. The only servant 
he really desired to keep around was his valet, Richard E. Grant. He and his 
housekeeper, Miss Mirren, had been battling each other from the moment he hired
her. She was as bad as his mother in the way she made sure he ate and drank
well. She even made sure he took vitamin pills and did not indulge too often in
liquor. Ian acted out like a child would against a mother of course, talking 
back and sneaking treats as often as possible. He would never fire her 
though…for one could not “fire” a mother…The part that really irritated him was
that he knew that if he ever did move in with Christopher, he would bring good 
old Mirren along with him.

Ian actually had no idea what Christopher had to talk to Mortensen about. He 
knew that the old man was not to fond of his younger acquaintance, so he was a 
little surprised that the man would want to speak in confidence to him. Ian was
never one to pass up some good gossip, but he figured that if Lee had found the
matter important, he would have mentioned it. 

The dinner went on in a rather uneventful fashion. Viggo had hoped to see 
Orlando again, but he had not appeared as he had at breakfast. He did not mind 
so much, as he knew they would be seeing each other again. He had every 
intention of finding the boy that very night and finishing what they had begun
in the woods. 

He was delighted when the evening’s festivities were cut short, due to the early
departure of the other guests in the morning. Viggo Mortensen said a cheery good
night to the other guests as they left the drawing room to retire for bed, and 
spoke casually with Lord Pitt for as they walked up the stairs to their rooms. 
He inquired after the man’s son, William. Lord Pitt spoke with great solemnity 
as he told him, “University life is certainly having an effect on him. He is 
insisting that we call him by his middle name, Brad. Can you believe it? How 
horrid. But he will not listen to reason and claims that it is what all of his
mates at school call him.”

“Terrible. To think that is the product of education. I daresay it is almost 
enough to keep one’s children out of school.”

“Here here.” Lord Pitt agreed. “Well, I best be off to bed. If I do not get a 
full ten hours of sleep, I tend to be peevish and tired all the next day, and 
that does make the trip most disagreeable.”

They said their goodnights and departed to their separate rooms. Upon entering 
his, he saw his valet Davenport pulling down his bedding. Viggo exchanged a nod
with the man as he took off his coat and draped it over the edge of his chair. 

Jack Davenport stood up straight and folded his hands before him. “Is there 
anything else you will require this evening, sir?” he asked, as crisply as ever.
Davenport was not a man known for his pleasant conversation. He was a servant 
that merely did as he was told and moved on.

“Only to not be disturbed under any circumstances until tomorrow morning for 
breakfast.”

“Very good sir.” The man nodded and made his way out, carefully closing the door
behind him. 

Viggo took off his waistcoat as well, leaving him in his white linen shirt. He 
pulled out a cigarette and lit it, inhaling deeply. Viggo figured that Lord Lee
probably took about twenty minutes to prepare for bed, and then would converse 
with the young man for at least another fifteen. This meant he had a good thirty
or forty minutes before he should even start wander the house. 

Mortensen allowed himself to sit back and relax for a while. He thought of how 
good that boy felt, how soft his skin was. The little gasps he had made had made
Viggo unbearable hard. He had had to take care of the problem himself when the 
youth had run off to attend to his employer, which he was not used to doing. 
Mortensen had never really seen the point of self gratification, as he could 
always find someone else to take care of the problem for him. This had been an 
emergency though, and he would make sure sweet Orlando made it up to him…

He sat on his padded couch, propped up on a pillow as he reclined and blew out 
little puffs of smoke idly. He unhooked the top few buttons of his shirt, 
letting a small expanse of chest remain visible, sparse blonde hair peeking out.
He kept a close eye on the clock, making sure he did not wait too long and let 
the little beauty escape him by heading to bed. 

Viggo reminisced about a little dally with a servant girl at his father’s 
friend’s estate. It had been a very slow and uneventful evening thus far, and he
had noticed a young servant woman from the kitchen staff giving him a 
mischievous eye. The woman was not particularly attractive, but she had been 
eager to attend to him, and Viggo was never one to pass up a willing partner…or
ready orifice…

Viggo finished the cigarette and stubbed it out in the nearby tray, leaning back
once more to doze for a few minutes. The next he glanced at the clock, about 
forty minutes had elapsed, and he figured it was a good time to start his late
night wanderings.

With a groan, Lord Viggo Mortensen stood and stretched his back before making 
his way to his door, carefully opening it and closing it quietly behind him. He
then carefully made his way down the carpeted hall and to the staircase. He did
not need one of the ladies to hear him snooping around and start gossip about 
him. He did not mind the gossip, but he did mind if said gossip created tension
between him and his old soon-to-be-benefactor. 

Viggo wandered down the stairs and tried to think where the most likely place to
find the young servant would be. He only desired to wander the servants’ wing as
an absolutely last result. Knowing old Lee, he would have a few last minute 
things for the boy to do, such as make tea or clean a shirt. Therefore, Viggo 
made his way down the stairs again and into the lower level where the kitchen,
pantry, and laundry rooms. It was very dark, as no one was here at that time of
night, and Viggo waited a moment for his eyes to adjust. 

He walked carefully, listening and looking for any signs of activity. He 
squinted in the dim light and was about to move on to one of the upper levels 
when he saw a light. Mortensen smiled and neared the glow, hearing a slight 
commotion. 

Viggo reached the room and ever so carefully opened the door a little to peek 
in. If Orlando was inside, he did not want to startle him by opening the door, 
he would rather startle him by kissing his tender neck, or covering his eyes 
with his hands and letting the boy guess who held him. 

Viggo looked in an held his breath.

Orlando was indeed in the room…the boy’s face and physique made him easily 
recognizable. The boy was lying on his back on a table, his one hand extended 
above his head holding onto the table edge, and the other by his mouth, stifling
the little noises he was making. His long graceful legs were entwined around the
waist of a sturdy, broad shouldered man. Said man was clutching the youth’s 
gently rounded hips for leverage as he mightily thrust in the slender body. 

Viggo watched for a moment, unable to tear his eyes away from the vision of the
seductive vixen being fucked by the larger man. He saw the man urge one of 
Orlando’s legs over his shoulder so he could thrust deeper into the youth’s 
body. He saw as this man ran a large hand over the perfect skin of Orlando’s 
belly, as though trying to calm the panting boy. 

Viggo was furious.

He clenched his teeth in rage as he watched this man ravage the lovely Brit in 
the way that he himself had planned to do. He loathed the look of love in 
Orlando’s eyes as the boy gazed upon the man’s face, a view Viggo was lacking as
the man’s back was to him. He hated the sounds of ecstasy coming from Orlando’s
perfect lips from the man’s ministrations, Viggo hated the man’s soothing hands
on the boy’s skin as he fucked him. 

It was then that Viggo realized that when the boy had protested in the woods, it
had not been out of propriety. He had not been a terrified blushing virgin, and
he certainly had not protested because he was afraid of getting caught. He had 
done it because he was with another person, and had chosen the other man over 
Viggo.

For the first time in his life, Lord Viggo Mortensen II had been rejected, and 
he did not like it…not one little bit.

TBC…

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