Thoroughly Whipped

Harry leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his whiskey dangling from his hand. “You must understand that the way I was—arrogant, rude, and cold—came after I lost my mother. I’m not saying this to ignite sympathy. I am saying it because it’s true.” He took a small sip of his whiskey. “My father and I, over the past week, since his heart attack, have had many discussions.”

“You have?”

He nodded. “We had a lot of things that needed to be said. I had a lot of things that needed to be said. He needed to know what he had done to me that changed me. That had made me…act out after Mum died.” I took a sip of my whiskey too, letting the warmth slide down my throat.

“When I was at university, I was a little wild,” he confessed. “Spent much of my time drunk and sleeping around. I was Hyde, studious by day and a total bloody mess at night. And that’s what I became used to being.”

I couldn’t imagine Harry this way. But then I’d never lost a parent, so I couldn’t imagine how that would have affected me. “I was in New York one summer with my father.” He smiled, but it was wan. “A friend of mine invited me to the Hamptons. I went, of course. When we were there, he told me of a party that was happening that night. A sex party, only everyone wore masks. It was completely anonymous. People in the Hamptons needed it to be anonymous. They had reputations to uphold, positions of power to protect.”

Harry gazed into the fire, going back to that time. “I couldn’t believe my eyes,” he said. “It was freedom. Being in that mask felt…” He frowned. “I’d spent my entire life under a microscope. People watching my every move. Don’t do this, Harry. That will harm our business, Harry. That isn’t how a viscount behaves, Harry. I was sick of it. Sick of living with a ghost of a father, sick of living without my mother. Sick of living for others and not myself.”

“Harry…” I whispered, feeling weight pressing on my chest at the sadness in his voice.

“I had told a friend about the party. He lived in Manhattan.” Harry swilled the ice around in his whiskey. “He told me I should organize something similar on the Upper East Side. Charge people to attend, get them to sign NDAs, and insist on everyone wearing masks and cloaks to protect themselves.” Harry shrugged. “So I did. And not only was it popular, it was a roaring success. And I’d done it without any input from my father.” As crazy as it sounded, I felt a flash of pride for Harry at that.

“At first, I rented houses, moved the club to a new location each week. By then I’d named it NOX. Eventually we made enough for me to invest in a permanent place.”

“The townhouse in Manhattan?”

Harry nodded. “Yes.” He laughed. “I had a waiting list as long as the Brooklyn Bridge. But by then, my wild times had come to an end, and I saw NOX as a real, viable business. But also as a way out for people like me. People who felt like they were in a prison of sorts in their everyday lives.” Harry downed his whiskey then poured another, topping up mine too.

“Thank you.”

Harry sat back on the couch. “By the time we were established, although my wild streak had long since died, I had gained a reputation.”

“Maître,” I said.

“Maître.” Harry shook his head. “From that first night in the Hamptons, I had used that fucking French accent. I could, can, speak French fluently, of course. It was all I ever spoke to my mum. And I don’t know…” He trailed off, at a loss for words.

“It offered you more protection.”

Harry met my eyes. “Exactly,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. “It was stupid really, but donning that mask and cloak and that damn accent made me someone else. For a little while, I wasn’t Henry Sinclair III, heir to a dukedom. I was Maître Auguste, and being him felt really bloody good. I kept to myself. No one knew me and my business thrived.”

Harry took my hand, like he needed the strength, needed my support. “I was no longer indulging in my former wild ways, Faith. But—and it could be argued this was worse—I had become a hard and cold man instead. You were right when you claimed I was pompous and arrogant. I was. And I was fine being that way. In my social circles it was common, and even revered.” He held my hand more tightly. “And then I met you.” His lip curled fondly. “And you crashed into me like a wrecking ball.” Harry kissed my hand, my fingers. “I had never, in all my life, met anyone like you.”