Speak Its Name: A Trilogy Read Free Page B

of the best of his life. He’d found someone he could talk to and who seemed to like talking to him, and quite unbelievably that person had been Hugo Lamont. But to have accepted an invitation to a picnic on the river—to be risking an intimately close encounter—he wasn’t sure he was ready. Perhaps he’d never be ready.
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Chapter Two
    “Quails’ eggs?” Easterby felt puzzled by the elegant little ovals, unsure whether he should eat them or merely admire them.
    “Indeed, Mr. Easterby,” Lamont grinned. “I can be quite a glutton for them.”
    “Please, call me Edward, if that would be acceptable.” Edward was uncertain whether this was a touch too forward, but the champagne had put audacity into him that he hadn’t felt since he’d first come up to Oxford. He’d never been invited to a picnic by the river in all those months, even when October had brought a splendid Indian summer and everyone else seemed to be making the most of the sunshine. He would never in a million years have expected being asked along by such a man as Hugo Lamont, who had his free choice of companions and would hardly be likely to choose an unpopular and introverted guest. But chosen he had and Edward was very grateful. He attempted a little smile.
    “If I’m to call you Edward, then you must call me Hugo.” His host smiled, but Edward thought it was forced. “I absolutely insist. You can’t be my guest and then not address me as my equal.”
    Edward hesitated over the use of first names, happy to invite, reluctant to accept, but felt obliged to comply. “Hugo,” once he had used it, the name tasted as sweet as honey on his tongue, “I feel quite speechless at the spread you’ve produced for me. I’ve never seen half these things before, though I dare say I’d recognise the names.”
    “You’ll have heard of this.” Hugo dipped a little spoon into a small jar of tiny black pearls. He motioned for Edward to put out his hand and dabbed a sample of the stuff on his fingertip. “Caviar—try it.”
    He did. He grimaced. “So that’s what the stuff is like—seems an awful lot of fuss about nothing.”
    Hugo lay back and roared with laughter. “Edward, you are such a breath of fresh air. So many people I know here are full of their own importance, want to show off about their knowledge or fine taste or exotic places they’ve been. But you are simply honest and decent and when I’m in your company, I don’t feel I have to make any sort of effort.” Except that he seemed to be making an effort not to touch Edward in any way. He’d kept his own fingers to the very end of the caviar-laden spoon.
    Edward blushed. “You shouldn’t speak like that. It’s not proper.” He sounded like a parlour maid who had been given ‘sauce’ by a house guest, but his honour had been affronted. He fancied Hugo beyond all reckoning and was certain the man could never feel the same. Any sign that Hugo was being familiar would just raise his hopes unduly, and he did not want to even acknowledge the possibility that it might occur.
    “Oh, why ever not? It’s the truth. There are very few people I just enjoy spending time with, and when they come along, I like to make it plain to them.”
    Edward watched his new found friend smile and laugh, transfixed by his beauty—the red-gold hair that shimmered in the sunlight, the blue eyes that rivalled the sky for brilliance. He wondered what it would be like if Hugo let him touch that hair, how it would feel beneath his fingers, whether it would smell of lavender soap.
    “Should we go and watch the cricket one day? I like nothing more than watching the lads getting themselves covered in grass stains. The sound of leather on willow, nothing like it.”
    Edward nodded. “I agree with you entirely—an outing to a match would be delightful.” He smiled and fell quiet, unsure of where this conversation was going, apart from an invitation to watch sport. He knew he was enjoying this