The Heir

 

The journey from the city was among the more excruciating experiences of Jean’s life. Sweating profusely in his heavy clothing, he was painfully aware of the stench of stale alcohol seeping from his body, and prayed only that the Duke was less conscious of it. The jolting motion of the carriage as it passed over the rough country lanes outside of the city sickened him once more, and it was all he could do to prevent another vomiting incident. Keeping his eyes closed in concentration, Jean could still feel Fabre’s eyes boring into him. The Duke’s foul mood had not improved as they travelled away from the city, and to Jean, his anger was palpable. Stealing a surreptitious glance at him, Jean could see his fists clenching and unclenching as he attempted to contain his displeasure.

“So you are awake, then? If you are...unwell, you will order the carriage to stop.” The distaste in Fabre’s voice caused Jean to bristle slightly. He knew he had embarrassed himself with the tawdry incident at the inn, but given what little he knew of the Duke himself, he felt that the judgement was harsh. Gilbert, and others among the staff, had more than once given hints of the state of drunkenness the Duke had favoured before Jean had met him. Jean had not expected sympathy, or understanding for his current condition, but the disgust on Fabre’s handsome face was unnecessarily unforgiving. The look on the Duke’s face echoed the expression on Jean’s father’s face as he banished Jean from his house, and Jean was unhappily reminded of the much deeper wound that had caused. Still, even if Fabre’s abhorrence could not match the pain caused by his father’s rejection of him, it cut him deeply enough. With a pang of serious regret, Jean considered the several reasons that the Duke might have for developing this new aversion to him. Counting in his head the long list of faults he had perpetrated the previous night, he realised that if nothing else, Fabre was still treating him better than his father had done. He might have abandoned him at the inn, and left him to fend for himself, but he had not. At the very least, Fabre appeared not to have given up entirely on their arrangement.  

            “I will be fine, thank you.” Jean replied curtly, not inviting any conversation. Fabre’s lips curled into a sneer, as he finally spoke the words that had been weighing on his mind.

            “If there are rumours – if your...liaison...with the whore are discovered, I’m not sure that I will be able to help you.” Jean finally met his eyes, wondering. Could not help him, or would not help him? The close relationship of the Duke to the king could surely be exploited to protect him, if it came to that. Jean decided that Fabre would chose not to help him. The degree to which that realisation hurt him was absurd, as he had already known how little he ranked in the man’s estimation. There had been a few moments, in the previous weeks, where Jean had almost felt that Fabre was pleased with him, but now he saw that he had damaged their relationship irreparably. Despite how little he claimed to care for Fabre’s good opinion, it stung him to think that he would now never have it. He had been careless – Fabre’s good relationship with Julian had lulled him into thinking that his own deviance would be ignored. But perhaps the deviance of a relative, and a prince of the blood, was a different matter – the sexual perversions of an untitled, penniless ward were clearly unacceptable and contemptible. And really, he thought bitterly to himself, if catching him kissing another boy had turned his father against him, finding him in bed with a rent-boy was sure to have thoroughly sickened Fabre. Jean cursed inwardly, regretting now that he hadn’t had sex with the boy while he had the chance; if he was to hang for the intention, he wished he had actually committed the crime.

            “There was no liaison. I was unconscious well before it got to that stage.” Jean said carelessly, pretending he did not notice Fabre’s disgust.

            “I’m sure the details don’t concern me.” Fabre barked back at him, as both men fell silent, awkwardly remaining so for the duration of the journey.