Part 19:

Orlando lay on the finest satin sheets that he had even felt. The cloth cool 
against his warm skin, but it could have been coarse burlap for all he cared. 
Orlando’s reason for sleeping all morning was not fatigue. He had done naught 
but sleep all day for most of the trip with Lord Viggo Mortensen from the city 
to his manor house in the country. The had stopped and spent three nights in the
city while Mortensen settled all of his financial inheritance he had received 
from Lord Lee. He had insisted Orlando rest in a real bed for a while, making 
sure he was waited on at all times.

The young man barely spoke to anyone in the days he spent alone. If any opened 
the door, he feigned sleep. He did not want to face anyone, for he feared that 
if he spoke to anyone from his old life, he would loose his resolve and not be 
able to go through his marriage to Viggo. 

Lucky for him, the wealthy aristocrat had decided to put up a façade of a proper
engagement to Orlando. He had the young man placed in his own room in the hotel.
The room was next to his own, but from the vantage point of any other patron, it
would seem like the respectable thing to do. Viggo visited him every evening,
though they had not yet had any sort of intimate contact. It seemed that Lord 
Mortensen was making a sort of mockery of the situation…keeping Orlando pure for
the wedding and not wanting to sully the sanctity of their upcoming union.

Colin had been keeping a close eye on Orlando, but he still gave the young man 
the space he needed. Colin brought Orlando his food on a tray he ordered from 
the Hotel restaurant. The young Brit did not have much of an appetite though, 
and many of the meals were left uneaten. 

He lay now, playing with those soft sheets and wishing that they wore coarse 
sheets that rubbed his delicate skin raw. He was throwing his life away to get 
his friends employment and had sold himself to a life of luxury. It made him
sick.

Mortensen on the other hand could not be any happier. His plans were going 
perfectly, he had the boy he wanted, and he had the full inheritance he had 
wanted from the old codger. The next morning he would leave the pathetic excuse
for a city and go to his manor house he was to renovate. He was going to redo 
everything with the money he had received from Lee and make the grandest house 
any of his snobbish friends had ever seen. 

The man had happily spent the last three days with his solicitor, transferring 
all the funds from Lord Lee’s account to his own. His solicitor, a very thin man
named Mr. Oldman, had informed him that Lord Lee still had several thousand 
pounds that were left to his son. Mr. Oldman explained that normally such a 
matter would never be questioned, except for the fact that Alec T. Lee had not 
been heard from in several years. Therefore, Mr. Oldman informed Viggo that he 
had struck an arrangement with the bank that unless Alec T. Lee claimed his 
inheritance in a years time, the remainder of Lord Lee’s estate would be given 
to the only other beneficiary, Lord Mortensen. 

Mortensen knew they had a busy schedule before them. They had to return to his
country house he next day, for the following day the carpenters were to arrive
and receive instructions for their renovations. It would be their wedding gift,
so while Viggo and his gorgeous spouse were enjoying their honeymoon, the 
renovations would take place so they could return to their nearly completed 
home. 

Viggo looked forward to his honeymoon. He looked forward to his wedding night 
even more though…the first time he would be able to claim that tight young body
as his own. He sweet it would be to burry his aching rod in that narrow 
passage…to hear the youth’s little moans and cries as he took his body.

But he could wait, for now the prize was as good as his. Orlando was safely in
his room, sleeping all day and only joining Viggo at night for dinner. The first
night, they dined in the restaurant with the other patrons. Mortensen was 
extremely pleased to see the looks and glances with exquisite fiancé was 
attracting. It was the attention of the men that Viggo most relished, as it was
the jealousy of men that he enjoyed receiving. The women of the room were 
jealous of Orlando’s beauty and lure, but it was the lust of the men that Viggo
enjoyed seeing. Finally it was him that owned this gorgeous creature and there
were others that had to gaze from afar.

The second night, Viggo had brought Orlando to his rooms to dine. He had 
chuckled to himself with the trepidation in Orlando’s eyes at the prospect of 
them being alone in Mortensen’s rooms together. Viggo had calmly offered Orlando
a fine wine which the youth had denied. Viggo had insisted, raising the glass to
Orlando’s lips himself for the youth to drink. Orlando had held his eyes 
intently before taking the stem of the glass in his own fingers and drinking. 

Orlando had somewhat relaxed when he realized Lord Mortensen did not mean to 
touch him on that night. He had listened to Mortensen’s ramblings on the house 
and the wedding. 

“I know how much you would probably love an extravagant wedding, my darling, but
I would prefer to get married soon, and nothing too glamorous can be arranged on
such short notice.” Viggo had taken Orlando’s smaller hand in his and caressed 
it with his thumb as he spoke, lightly kissing the smooth skin when he had 
finished speaking. “What do you think my love?”

Orlando had not even blinked. He had merely shrugged his slender shoulders. “I 
know nothing of such things, it matters not to me.”

“Surely you must prefer something,” Viggo had insisted. 

“Something small then,” Orlando had said, though it pained him to participate at
all in the marriage.

Viggo had been pleased to her such news. He now smiled as he wrote out the guest
list in his room. It was their third night in the city, and the next day they 
would return to the country. He was inviting all of his fellow aristocrats in 
his social circle as well as several influential families. It would not be an 
extravagant event, but it certainly would be no small affair. In truth, Viggo 
had been making preparations ever since the fire, so the wedding would still be
grand.

Viggo had also taken the liberty of contacting one of the top tailors in the 
country. He had informed the man that he and his fiancé would be visiting his 
shop two days after they returned to Walker Estates. He had told the tailor, Mr.
Cummings, that he wanted only the finest imported white fabric set aside for his
young fiancé. Alan Cummings had become very well known after the success of the
clothes he made for Lady Pitt at her birthday celebrations. After that fine 
evening, the man had been sought by all well to do families that wanted to 
display their fine standings. Lord Viggo Mortensen was determined to secure his
services for his wedding. 

The gossip had already started. As it was, Lord Bale’s son Christian had been at
the same hotel as Mortensen the first night he and Orlando had dined together, 
and had immediately written his dear friend Brad Pitt and told him of the 
mysterious beauty under Lord Mortensen’s care, and the close attentions the
older Lord had paid him. The fact that the glorious creature was male had been a
matter of supreme amusement. “Mortensen really does have no care” Christian had
mused in his letter to his friend. “The man does as he pleases without a single
worry. It is most intriguing and admirable. He does not cower before the social
standards as the others at school did, or even our own parents.” In truth, 
Christian did look up to the man. He wished that he himself could do as he 
pleased and wed as he would. 

Christian had also noted that the young man Mortensen had been with was no noble
he had ever seen. He was far too meek and submissive. He had the downcast eyes
that any father of good breeding would have never allowed. The boy seemed more 
like a servant dressed up in the clothes of an aristocrat. On further inquiry 
into the matter, Christian had heard the rumor that the boy had indeed been a 
servant who had worked for Lord Lee before the horrible fire. Mortensen had been
so taken with him, it was rumored that he had decided to wed the boy. 

“It seems our friend Viggo went soft over a pretty face so far as to raise the 
beauty from his servant class and into a life of privilege and prestige. The boy
does not seem to be taking it well, and he certainly does not look like a joyous
bride.” Christian had laughed to himself at his own joke as he wrote the letter. 

Mortensen had known nothing of Bale’s presence at the hotel, but was not at all
irritated to hear or the rumors that had sprung up from the encounter. Everyone
was anxious to meet Viggo’s illusive fiancé and find out the truth of his 
upbringing. 



It was the fourth morning of their stay in the city, and after he had dressed 
and prepared himself for the long day, Viggo knocked on Orlando’s door before 
opening it with his key. The room was dark, and the young man way laying atop 
his sheets, naked except for his dressing gown that rode high on his thighs. 
Viggo licked his lips as he gazed on that creamy flesh still visible in the dim
room. Knowing that if he let his imagination get away with him, he may not be 
able to control himself, Viggo tore his eyes away and instead crossed over to 
the windows and pulled back the fluffy drapes. “Time to wake up my darling, we 
have a busy day before us, and check out is noon.”

There was no response from Orlando, and the young man did not so much as move as
the sunlight poured over him. Mortensen stood and looked at the resting beauty.
He was sure Orlando was awake, and merely not speaking to him. He would play 
Orlando’s game though, so he crossed the room and sat on the bed, stroking 
Orlando’s back and murmuring, “Wake up, my darling…open those lovely eyes for 
me.”

Orlando did not move at first, and Mortensen continued to stroke his back with 
the tips of his fingers. Orlando finally opened his eyes and looked up into 
Mortensen’s smirking face. Viggo smiled and stroked the back of the young man’s
neck and then caress his dark hair. The shorter strands had been growing and the
youth’s curls were now becoming more defined. 

“There we are darling,” Viggo said with a smile, gazing upon that beautiful 
face. “You must have been very tired, my love, you have slept all morning. You 
must get up now though, my darling, we have a big day today. Are you hungry?”

Orlando shook his head slightly before burying it back into the pillow. 

Viggo pursed his lips. “You must eat something, my darling. You must keep your 
strength up. I will have that Mr. Farrell get you something from the kitchens.”

Orlando knew that there was not much point arguing, so he merely lay there and 
said nothing. Viggo seemed to like his attitude, as he smiled broadly. The man 
stroked a finger all the way down his back to the end of his tailbone before 
leaning down to kiss the top of Orlando’s head and then standing. “I will order
your meal and then come back in and help you dress, alright my darling?”

Orlando did not say anything, but from the expression on Viggo’s face, the boy 
might as well have jumped for joy. Viggo left the room and carefully locked it 
before heading downstairs to the rooms for the servants and found where Mr. 
Farrell was staying with several other male members of the staff, including 
Davenport. Viggo made sure his trusty valet roomed with the untrustworthy 
Irishman, and so far Davenport had indeed done his job, informing Viggo of 
everything the man did and said. 

It was now with Davenport that Viggo found the man. Farrell and Davenport were 
reclining on their own separate beds, Davenport reading and Farrell smoking a 
cigarette. Both men looked up when their employer entered the room, but Farrell
was much slower to stand. Cocky bastard…

“Farrell,” Mortensen said crisply, demanding the Irishman’s attention. 

“Yes, sir,” Farrell responded, not trying to hide the ice in his voice.

“My darling needs a spot of breakfast. Go to the kitchen and find him something
to eat. Get him some eggs and maybe some porridge. I want some fresh fruit for 
him as well, preferably strawberries. See what you can manage and bring it up in
twenty minutes. Some tea for him as well, with honey.”

“I do believe that Orlando prefers his tea with milk…sir,” Colin countered, 
enjoying the slight furrowing of the esteemed Lord’s brows at his correction.

“I should think my sweet darling would prefer honey, but as you seem to know him
so…intimately…then I suppose I shall allow you to serve the tea with milk. Do 
not tarry, Farrell, my fiancé and I have a busy day before us.”

“Of course,” Colin said with a curt nod, brushing past Mortensen in a most brash
manner. Unless his position had not been ensured, Colin certainly would have
been fired for such behavior, but Orlando had told him of the conditions of the
marriage, and Colin knew that no matter how badly Mortensen wanted to get rid of
him, if he wanted to keep Orlando he would have to keep Colin.

Mortensen exchanged a look with Davenport before leaving the room. He walked
back up the stairs and returned to Orlando’s room, finding the boy in the same
position he had left him in. He had rolled onto his back, and his eyes were 
open. His fingers gently played with the bedspread by his head. Viggo crossed to
the bed and pulled Orlando up into his arms, making the young man hold an 
awkward sitting position. Viggo kissed the unresponsive lips and caressed 
Orlando’s chilled arm. 

“Are you cold, my darling?” he asked, furrowing his brows and rubbing Orlando’s
arms to bring heat to the cold skin. 

Orlando shook his head for though he was indeed cold, it was a discomfort he 
wanted to endure. The man’s warm hands on his arms made him shudder, but he 
tried to endure it. Viggo ran a finger down Orlando’s cheekbone and throat 
before lightly kissing the flesh there. Orlando raised his hands to Viggo’s 
chest and gently pushed him back, carefully saying, “I should get dressed, my 
Lord. As you said, there are many things to do today…I would hate to hold you 
back…”

Viggo leaned back and stood, looking down at Orlando and smiling a little too 
sweetly. “All right my darling…why don’t I find you something to wear and help 
you get dressed.”

The man walked over to the small pile of clothes he had bought already for 
Orlando and selected a fine white shirt and grey trouser and jacket with a soft
brown vest to match his large eyes. He turned back to Orlando and held up the 
clothes for the younger man’s inspection before motioning for him to stand. 
Orlando did so shyly, smoothing his dressing gown down over his thighs to cover
himself before the man’s eyes.

Viggo grinned when he saw Orlando’s shyness and allowed it for the time being. 
He handed Orlando a clean pair of underclothes. Orlando took them tentatively, 
his downcast eyes only flickering up to meet Viggo’s blue ones as he accepted 
the underclothes and held them close against his body. “Would you turn around as
I dress?” he asked quietly, unsure of how Viggo would react. At first, he 
flinched as though afraid the older man would strike him.

Viggo enjoyed Orlando’s reaction and laughed heartily, taking Orlando’s chin in
his hand and kissing his cool lips. “My poor modest darling.” his hand snaked 
down and played ith the hem of Orlando’s dressing gown, making the young man 
shift uncomfortably. “I do hope that you know that after our wedding, there 
shall be no call or need for modesty. It will only be a hindrance, and I know 
you shall feel more comfortable around me, especially after our wedding night…”

He saw the color drain from Orlando’s cheeks at the words and smirked to 
himself. Orlando certainly had no reason to act virginal…He raised his hand from
Orlando’s thigh and caressed the side of his face. “I would do anything you 
asked of me, my darling,” he said, turning his back and allowing Orlando some 
privacy for him to change his clothes in.

Orlando tried not to sigh with relief when he saw Viggo’s back. He pulled the 
dressing gown over his head to reveal his naked body. He quickly pulled the 
underclothes up to cover his genitals and then was a little more relaxed to put
on his soft trousers and shirt. 

Thinking he had heard enough cloth rustling for Orlando to have somewhat 
dressed, Viggo turned around and saw Orlando pulling his shirt over his 
shoulders and in place. Orlando colored prettily as the man looked at him. 

Viggo casually walked over and pushed Orlando’s hands from the shirt, doing up 
the buttons himself before taking the vest and sliding it up the young man’s 
arms and pulling it closed, doing up the three buttons. He stepped back and 
examined the young man as though he were studying a painting at a museum. “You
look lovely, my dear,” he said appreciatively. 

Orlando looked down at the floor, quietly all but whispering, “Thank you, sir.”

Mortensen pulled Orlando into his arms, wrapping the slender form in a tight 
confining grip. “As much as I do admire your manner, my darling, I would so like
to hear my name fall from your exquisite lips.”

“Forgive me…Viggo,” Orlando said, wanting to keep their previous formal 
arrangement that reminded him of the days when he was still a servant and 
Mortensen his lord. It would be o much easier if he could think he was still 
just the other man’s servant. 

“Good lad,” Viggo said. “Give me a kiss.” He extended his face and closed his 
eyes as he waited for Orlando to fulfill his request. Orlando nibbled his lower
lip, wanting to break free of Viggo’s strong hold and run from the room. After a
couple awkward seconds, Orlando leaned forward and placed a light kiss on
Viggo’s cheek before pulling back as though the man’s skin was icy cold and he 
feared his lips would stick.

Viggo’s brows furrowed ever so slightly and the corner of is mouth quirked. “Am
I so repulsive my darling, or are you so very chaste that you can not offer your
husband to be a proper kiss?”

Orlando reddened at the obvious mockery and shook his head. “Not at all, my 
lord. I merely did not know what sort of kiss it was you sought. I meant not to
offend you…Viggo.”

The young man made to shrink away, but Viggo caught him by the back of the head
and held him fast. “I can see the sincerity of your words, my darling, so I 
shall give you another chance. Kiss me again, and this time let me feel the 
depth of your emotion.”

Orlando would rather die than kiss the man’s lips with any degree of the passion
he had shown to Sean. Feeling the man’s arms tighten ever so slightly around 
him, Orlando raised his lips again and this time placed the lightest of kisses
on the man’s lips. He was about to pull away, when Viggo took hold of the back 
of his head and crushed their mouths together, attempting to claim the younger 
man’s mouth with his tongue. When Orlando’s mouth did no open and accept the 
coaxing tongue attempting to claim entrance, Viggo pried his mouth open with his
and tasted his mouth as he desired. 

Realizing that he would not be able to escape, Orlando surrendered, allowing 
Viggo to do as he pleased but not returning the kiss at all. Viggo was obviously
getting slightly irritated by Orlando’s lack of enthusiasm, and he reclaimed the
young man’s rosy lips with a little growl, tightly holding the back of Orlando’s
head in a grip that was almost painful.

Both men jumped when the door opened and Colin entered carrying the breakfast 
tray. His eyes narrowed slightly when he saw Mortensen holding Orlando in a 
captive embrace claiming his mouth in a manner that was obviously not 
reciprocated. 

Viggo fixed his stormy eyes on Mr. Farrell and moved his clenching hand to rest
on the back of Orlando’s neck, rubbing his fingers deliberately up and down. 
“Mr. Farrell…” he said coldly. “Should you not knock before entering?”

Colin looked upon Orlando before firmly fixing his eyes on Viggo’s blue ones. 
“Normally sir, but you had told me to take no longer than twenty minutes, and as
attaining Orlando’s food took longer than anticipated, I had thought you would
rather me hurry than worry with such formalities.”

Viggo looked upon Orlando’s flushed face and stroked his jaw one last time 
before giving him a slight push to urge him to sit on the bed. Orlando did as he
was bid, and Mortensen then gestured for Colin to set down the tray so the young
man could eat. The Irishman stepped forward and placed the tray before Orlando,
reaching a hand out to rest on the younger man’s shoulder in a gesture of 
comfort. “Are you well, Orlando?” he asked softly.

Mortensen crossed his arms across his chest and sternly spoke to his newly and 
most grudgingly acquired servant. “I did not know that it was so lax in Lee’s 
household for a servant to be so familiar with his betters. Note well that 
Orlando and I are to wed soon, and once we are joined in matrimony, it will not
be proper for you to address him so informally. You will address him as Sir, or
my Lord. Is that quite understood.”

Farrell’s brows furrowed slightly, and then he said, “Lord Lee’s household was a
place where respect was well earned, so none had to remind the servants of their
manner. As for addressing Orlando, he is the one who employs me, and I do but 
his will when I call him by his given name. If I am wrong for doing as my 
employer bid, then I do indeed apologize for my grievous trespass.”

Viggo stalked forward as though he were to strike the dark haired Irishman and 
hissed through clenched teeth, “I would watch that mirthful tone with me, cur. I
do but keep you on my staff to please me darling, but if I feel you have too 
much extra time, there are other tasks I could give you to fill it up. I fear 
you are letting such a lax position go to your head and I will not have it.”

‘So speaks the master of the house,’ Colin though to himself. “I am sorry if my
tone was offensive to your…nature,” Colin said, trying to contain his smirk.

Viggo studied the man, wondering whether it would do his dignity more good to 
make a retort or overlook the insolent slip and play it off as though nothing 
had been said. He decided to go with the latter and nodded slightly toward 
Orlando. “See that he eats everything set before him and is ready in an hour. I
will have the other servants ready our possessions so we can make way to Walker
Estate and arrive before nightfall.” He turned to Orlando and softened his 
expression as though he were speaking to a delicate lady. “Enjoy your meal my 
darling. If you need anything, call for Davenport, and he shall care for you. I
have much business to attend to, my love. Be sure to get your things together 
when you are finished, and I shall come for you soon.”

Orlando nodded and looked down at the tray of food before him, unsure of how he
was supposed to consume so much when the very sight of it made his stomach 
churn. He breathed a sigh of relief and let his shoulders slump when he finally
heard the door close, signaling the blonde Lord’s exit. 

Colin immediately went to the bed and sat next to Orlando, taking the younger 
man’s slender shoulders in his hands and rubbing them in a consoling fashion. 
Orlando finally could not take it and lurched forward, throwing his arms around
Colin and letting loose the tears that had been threatening to fall all morning.
“I can’t do it, Colin,” he sobbed, fat tears rolling down his face. “I thought I
could but I can’t. I can’t stand to be touched by him…or kissed…or even looked 
at. How am I to marry a man whose eyes I can not even stand upon me?” 

Colin rubbed the younger man’s back and tried to sooth him but knowing that it 
would be useless.

“I don’t know what I am going to do on our wedding night…how will I let him 
touch me…take me as I had sworn I would never let another man do? Please, Colin,
tell me what to do?”

Colin shook his head, unable to bring himself to try and help sweet Orlando 
overcome his unease and marry a man he detested. “Do not ask me, Orlando. You 
know that I would rather have you run from this place and find a new life for 
yourself…”

Orlando looked up at him with his sad eyes. “You know I cannot…Mortensen will 
never keep the others on his staff if I leave him, and then they will be without
employment and on their own. I could never live knowing that I could have made 
their lives better.” He looked beseechingly on Colin, as though he needed to 
know the other man understood him.

Colin nodded, “I understand, your love of others is greater than your love of 
yourself. For this reason I love you all the more, sweet boy,” Colin wrapped his
arms around Orlando and held him close, not caring of Mortensen or his man 
Davenport came in and discovered them. ‘I know how you feel that this is 
something you must do.’ he thought. ‘I just wish you could know that none would
blame you would you choose another life.’ 

The Irishman dried the tears that fell from the doe eyed boy’s brown pools,
musing at how out of sorts Orlando seemed in the fine clothes Mortensen had 
dressed him in. He reached for the tray and dragged it closer to them, removing
the lid to bear the lavish food. “Here,” he said, holding out a forkful of egg 
to the young man. “Eat.”

Orlando pushed the fork away, shaking his head. “I have not the stomach for it.”

Colin shook his head and pushed forward again, holding the fork for Orlando to 
take. “I would never agree with that bastard, but I would see you eat. You need
your strength and besides, I went to the trouble of getting this for you from a
cook that spoke three words of English, I would appreciate it if you eat it.”

Orlando smiled slightly and accepted the fork, eating the fluffy egg before 
reaching for more. He took up the cup of tea and drank a bit of it, not 
surprised that it was the best he had ever tasted. He was used to the tea 
reserved for servants, and the tea was as fine as the garments Viggo dressed him
in.

Orlando ate slowly, nibbling delicately upon the food as a rabbit would and 
sipping the fine tea. He supposed he would have to become accustomed to finer 
things, though they made him feel out of sorts and reminded him of the position
he had so recently retained in society. 

In truth, every finery made him uncomfortable, for it was a reminder of how out
of place he was. He was a servant, the son of a servant and had been supposed to
be wed to a servant. He was now to be wed to an aristocrat and the change was as
from night to day.

They sat in relative silence, merely taking comfort in each other’s company. All
too soon they were interrupted by the arrival of another servant. There was a 
knock at the door, and Colin opened it to reveal a young servant girl holding a
valise and a timid look.

“Forgive the intrusion,” she said quietly. “Lord Mortensen ordered me to bring
this valise to Mr. Bloom and make sure he packed everything he needed. My Lord
wishes to depart as soon as possible, so he asked that I remain to make sure the
task is carried out.”

Colin stepped aside so she could enter, and the girl entered shyly before 
carrying the satchel to the bed and placing it on the edge, opening it before 
turning to Orlando. “Do you require any assistance in packing, sir? Is there 
anything else I could fetch for you?”

Orlando shook his head, rising from the bed and wiping any remains of his meal 
from his mouth with the linen napkin. “No thank you, I do not need assistance. I
have very few possessions. Where would my Lord have me meet him?”

“He said he would fetch you, sir,” he said, clasping her hands before her.

Orlando nodded and walked about the room, carefully folding his bedclothes and 
placing them in the valise.

The serving girl gave Colin a puzzled look as though looking for a sort of 
answer before returning her attentions to Orlando. “Sir?” she asked tentatively. 

Orlando turned to her, his brows furrowed in question, holding a spare shirt he
had just folded in his hands. “Is something wrong?” he asked her.

She shook her head. “No sir, but would you not rather have your valet or I tend
to your clothes?”

Orlando realized his slip as he looked at the shirt he had just folded, it
suddenly felt heavy in his hands, and he placed it in the case. “No, I…I would 
do it myself, thank you.” he wrapped his arms around himself, not knowing what 
to do with his hands. He then decided to ignore the situation and continued to 
gather his few belongings himself and packing them. The items were not even his
really, they were all things Viggo had bought for him in the last few days. He 
also tentatively packed the bundle of charred clothes from the night of the fire
that he had been taken to the hospital in. He kept them with him though they 
were too marred to be worn. They were his last connection to the house, aside 
from the ring Sean had given him, which was still on his finger.

Viggo had made several comments about the ring, but Orlando had not taken it 
off. He would not. In some ways, he could not…

Once he was packed, Orlando sat on the bed and waited for Mortensen to collect 
him. He did not have to wait for long, and soon the door was opened again and 
the blonde lord looked in, pleased to see Orlando waiting patiently on the bed 
with his packed belongings beside him. 

“Are you ready to go, my darling?” he asked pleasantly, not at all asking 
Orlando for the cause of his melancholy. 

Orlando nodded and rose from the bed, moving to pick up his valise and go to the
door. Viggo walked in and shook his head as he clucked his tongue, taking 
Orlando’s arm and holding it still. “No, no my darling. Mr. Farrell will get 
that for you, it is why we hired him after all.” Mortensen snapped his fingers 
at Colin and pointed at the case. “Fetch that, Mr. Farrell,” he ordered curtly 
before taking Orlando’s arm. “Come my darling, shall we get in the carriage?”

Orlando nodded demurely and allowed himself to be led like a lady from the room
by the older man. He could hear Colin’s footsteps behind him and was comforted.
He ignored the looks of other patrons to the hotel as they passed, knowing what
a sight they must make. The distinguished Lord and the boy he dressed up like a
doll to look like an aristocrat, treated with the same care as though he were a
fragile wife. 

The carriage loomed before Orlando, as though it were the cart to carry him to 
his prison. Viggo helped him into the carriage before turning to Colin, and 
instructing him to help Davenport secure the luggage to the top before taking 
his seat. Viggo them got into the carriage and waited for one of the servants to
close the door. Colin did not, so Davenport did before loading the luggage on 
top. 

Orlando held his arms around himself and slightly shivered. Viggo looked at him
and pursed his lips in a most childish imitation. “Are you chilled, my darling?”
Orlando shook his head and Viggo clucked his tongue with a chuckle, reaching 
beside him and taking a blanket before opening it with much show and draping it
over Orlando. “You cannot fool me, my love. Why you wish for discomfort I will 
never understand. Your hands are like ice! Let me warm them for you.” Viggo took
Orlando’s chilled hands in his own and rubbed them to warm them. 

Orlando gently tried to pull his hands back, but Viggo held them firm. The 
friction the man put over his skin burned in its harshness, and Orlando winced.
“My lord…Viggo…you hurt me…”

Viggo smiled and kept holding the smaller hands, but stopped rubbing them. “So 
delicate…” he mused. “My poor fragile darling. At ties when I see you, I fear 
that if I touch you too hard I shall break you. Were you made of porcelain, 
love?”

Orlando looked out the window, not answering the man’s question. “Not 
porcelain…” he said quietly. “Not anymore.”

Viggo wondered what sorts of thoughts went through the boy’s mind, but did not 
care so much as how lovely Orlando looked in the rosy glow of the sun. He let 
his eyes roam over the golden flesh not covered in exquisite clothes. Orlando’s
lips looked so plump, the small petals inviting in their rosy splendor. 

The carriage started with only the slightest jolt and began to roll over the 
cobblestone of the streets. Orlando continued to gaze out the window at the city
as it passed by. He saw the workers who toiled about their daily lives, 
completely unaware of the allure of their petty turmoil to a young man so lost 
in the bleakness of wealth. 

“I do not think we shall cut your hair,” Viggo said, crossing his hands over his
folded knee and interrupting Orlando’s wandering thoughts.

Orlando’s soft eyes widened in question.

“Your hair, my darling. I like the way it is starting to curl as it grows. It is
most appealing to me. I want you to grow it out…I can only imagine how wonderful
it will look when your tresses can frame your face.” The blonde man gestured to
his own cheekbone as he spoke, simulating the way he envisioned Orlando’s silken
curls in a longer state. 

“As you wish,” Orlando said quietly, returning his gaze to the window and the 
passing scenery.

Viggo smiled at Orlando’s attitude, appreciating it as he continued admiring his
beautiful fiancé. 

The carriage continued to rumble on, but after an hour or so, Orlando could feel
the ground shift from the cobblestone of the city to the quick bounce of a dirt
road. He saw the stone building shift to trees and grass…dirty clothed workers 
change to foliage and occasional livestock. He wondered what the scenery around
Walker Estates would be like. He hoped there would be a wood…

“I have set the guest list at around a hundred, so the wedding will be quite 
small. I trust that that will be a large enough assembly for you. You have no 
family you wished to invite, did you my darling? I suppose it would not be too 
late to have them sent for…and properly fitted and dressed, naturally…”

Orlando shook his head slowly. He had not spoken to his mother in some time, nor
his sister. He would not want them to see him wed this man…to see the new life
he lived with a man he did not love. He would send them money later…but 
discretely. 

Viggo was not at all surprised or fazed by the information, and he nodded as 
though he had suspected as much. “That is all right, my darling. I have more 
than enough guests for the wedding, it will not be too small.”

He did not want to face all of those people Viggo had supposedly invited. He did
not know them except for those he had met at Lord Lee’s. A sudden thought came 
to him, and he raised his head in the most animated gesture he had made all day.
“Will Lord McKellen be there?” he asked.

“Of course,” Viggo said with a smile. “I know Ian very well, and he is among my
circle of friends. I would not exclude him from the festivities. It pleased me
to see that you find excitement in his presence. I do so enjoy to see you 
happy.”

Orlando said nothing to this, but took comfort in the knowledge that Lord Lee’s
friend would be there. He only hoped the old man remembered him and would speak
to him. He would hate to be a burden.

“I do suppose Lady Smith will be there as well. I do not think the old bat ever
gave me much favor, but she would never miss a party.” Viggo chuckled to himself
at something evidently quite comical as he smoothed his pant leg. “I am sure you
will find this quite amusing, my darling. It seems that two couples were joined
after the fire. Old Maggie took in dreadful Miss Dench, and I have heard that 
the two are now inseparable. Dench is not even kept on as a servant. I heard 
from my friend that she and Maggie spend their days sitting outside like
Christopher and Ian used too. It must be a trait of the old to enjoy such sullen
company…”

Tears filled Orlando’s eyes as Viggo spoke so casually of Lord Lee. Orlando 
remembered the night when he came in from the rain and Lee had cared for him. He
remembered when Lee congratulated him on his engagement…he had been so very 
supportive of them. Sean had said that he had even planned to host their wedding
in the spring…

Orlando angrily wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Orlando, whatever has come over you?” Viggo asked, wondering what had possibly
come over the younger man. “What is all this for then?”

“Lord Lee…” Orlando said quietly. 

“Oh,” Viggo said with a sigh, understanding and finding Orlando quite a silly 
boy. “Does his memory still grieve you?”

Orlando nodded. “He was a very good man,” he said. “He did not deserve what 
happened.”

Viggo begged to differ, but kept his opinions to himself. “You can let go of 
those troubles, my darling,” he said. “You have a new life to look forward to, 
and a wedding in a week. Surely such pleasantries can help you forget your 
grief. If you like, you may help me plan the wedding. You seem to have a better
head for such things from your choice in fabric for your clothing. Help a 
foolish man in the decorations, love?”

Orlando thought for a moment before nodding. “As you wish.” he said. He really 
had no sort of experience in such things, but he would appreciate anything that
he could do to take his mind off of things.

Viggo smiled and adjusted his sitting, placing his leg on the ground before 
crossing the other and folding his hands on his knee. He watched Orlando as they
sat and were gently jostled by the sway of the carriage. He saw how the boy’s 
eyes were beginning to droop and his head to nod occasionally. His poor darling
was beginning to fall asleep.

“Orlando, love. Come sit next to me.” Viggo patted the bench next to him. 
Orlando looked at him questioningly with slightly widened eyes.

“Pardon?…”

“You look so very tired, my darling, come sit next to me. It would please me to
be near you and offer you comfort.”

Orlando grudgingly moved from his bench to the empty space next to Lord 
Mortensen tentatively. He sat at as much of a distance as he could to the other
man, folding his hands in his lap. Viggo took his hands in his own and kissed 
them, before reaching to take the back of the younger man’s head and lean it 
down against his shoulder, and then even lower to rest it in his lap.

Orlando’s whole body went rigid as the older aristocrat pet his hair and attempt
to calm him to sleep, urging him to rest against him. He closed his eyes tightly
when he heard the man slightly moan as he adjusted his cheek on Viggo’s lap.

Viggo tried to suppress the desire that surged through him at the sight of the 
young man’s head resting against his lap, knowing that only a turn of the head 
would bring those rosy lips against his clothed cock, which was beginning to 
stiffen. Viggo played it off as though it was not even happening. He did not 
mind of the boy felt his arousal. He wanted the youth to feel what he did to 
him…how much he wanted him…how even the slightest touch could make his blood 
boil.

Orlando could find no rest now. He was surprised when Viggo did not touch 
him…sure that the wealthy man would have done more, made him do more. He thought
the whole situation would have been more bearable if he had. 

He had a week left before the wedding. A week more that he could avoid the 
advances made and expect to be left alone. One more week before he was finally 
put out into the harsh world of the aristocracy. He would never again be the 
servant Orlando, the boy who ignored his work for a walk in the field or who ran
naked with his lover in the rain. The innocent boy who giggled and splashed 
water with Elijah in the kitchen and ran from the stern reprimand of Miss Dench.
He would be Orlando Mortensen…the spouse and concubine of the wealthy man who 
did not care to know him any better than the touch of his skin and the curl of 
his hair. 

He had made his choice, and in a week he would have to live it.


TBC…

please review. more with Sean and Marton and the wedding in the next update