An Uncommon Gentleman

  A Regency Gay Romance Short Story

  Gabbi Grey

  Copyright © 2023 Gabbi Grey.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.

  References to real people, events, organizations, establishments or locations are intended to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Edits by ELF.

  Cover Design by James, GoOnWrite.com

  John

  I have served as a sailor in His Majesty’s Royal Navy for the past ten years and had no intention of changing that path. The death of my uncle means I must return to Blackthorne Estate to take up my position as Lord and Master. I’ll step up to do my duty. My dearest wish is that my beloved joins me. When he chooses to accompany me, I set my mind to making him mine—body and soul.

  Philip

  I have been a sailor for nearly thirty years and never planned to retire until my captain orders it. When my beloved is called to attend to his family’s estate, he asks me to accompany him as a valet. I’m happy to do so as it keeps me close to him. He wants to grow the affection between the two of us, but I feel the need to hold myself apart. In the end, though, I suspect he will win this argument.

  Dedication

  Sharon who shared her love of history

  Renae who shared her love of story

  ELF who rescued my butt

  Wendy for being awesome

  Jenny & Andie for the inspiration

  Michael Ferraiuolo for being my voice

  Contents

  1. Chapter One

  2. Chapter Two

  3. Chapter Three

  4. Chapter Four

  5. Chapter Five

  6. Epilogue

  7. Interested in knowing more about Gabbi?

  Chapter One

  John

  Docking in port after a long voyage, most seamen scurried off the vessel like rats abandoning a sinking ship. A few had wives and children awaiting them. A few bought companionship in the ubiquitous brothels. A few were simply weary of the sea and wanted to enjoy solid land for a change.

  I wasn’t one of those men.

  Having no one waiting, and nothing to return home to, I lingered a bit on the ship while the other men disembarked. As an Able Seaman, I was usually paid out and sent on my way, but wanting to be of assistance to the captain in any way I could, I waited.

  He’d be disembarking soon.

  His lovely wife—who accompanied him for all his voyages—had family to visit before we began another crossing of the Atlantic Ocean. The former Miss Anne Elliot—now Mrs. Captain Frederick Wentworth—enjoyed seafaring journeys as much as most of us sailors. Well, perhaps even more. She enjoyed freedoms few women were allowed, and her equitable treatment of the captain’s men endeared her to me. Nor did she treat me any differently because of my black skin.

  I pondered that. Some believed having a woman aboard was bad luck. Others believed having the captain’s wife here meant we would be better treated. Then, some amongst the Navy still believed a woman belonged at home keeping the nursery full and the marital bed warm for her man when he returned.

  I held no such notions, believing women to be worthy of an education and a position of greater respect in society. Alas, my view was the minority, and I often found myself silent when men complained of women holding positions of authority or showing their expertise over men. Of course, I also found my tongue still as they shared stories of the women they’d bedded or wedded.

  Since my urges didn’t follow this natural course, I opted to look for others to keep company with.

  “Mr. Blackthorne, the captain wants to see you.” Phineas poked his head around a stack of barrels.

  Before I could respond, he’d vanished.

  I quickly swept a glance down my uniform. Not as clean as I’d wish, but respectable. I hurried above deck to find Lieutenant Philip Daniels crossing from the starboard toward the captain’s room.

  My Philip.

  Not to claim, of course, but to love from afar all the same.

  He was nearly twenty years my senior, but had kept me from melancholy and isolation these past ten years. I’d been green and naïve—he’d been knowledgeable in the ways of the officers and the sea. His blue eyes pierced my soul, while his graying brown hair spoke of long years of experience. Lines in his visage spoke of a life well-lived.

  Philip hesitated when he saw me, and I quickly approached.

  “I was summoned.” I tugged my jacket sleeves in a vain attempt to straighten them.

  “As was I.” Daniels, like myself, didn’t rush to disembark. Our souls were alike. In so many ways.

  Together, we strode to the captain’s room and found the door ajar. And, together, we entered.

  Mrs. Wentworth stood beside the captain, looking regal in a sturdy cream-colored gown. The length hid her sensible shoes, and she wore a spencer jacket—her only nod to current fashions. Her dark hair was pulled back. She was a handsome woman. And eminently practical—Captain Wentworth had chosen the perfect companion.

  John and I bowed as salute.

  Mrs. Wentworth spotted me and curtseyed.

  My eyes widened.

  Captain Wentworth bowed his head. “Lord Blackthorne.”

  Words escaped me.

  As if sensing my disbelief, the captain handed me a letter. “My condolences. The estate manager sent a letter to my attention with the hopes the news would reach you sooner. Your uncle passed several months back and left you heir.”

  Thunderstruck.

  My uncle never acknowledged me as heir, for my father’d been disgraced when he married my black mother. Lord Blackthorne, my uncle, had wanted nothing to do with me, my mother, or my father.

  My father, cast out, had received no recognition.

  Lord Blackthorne, despite having outlived three wives, had never produced an heir.

  I’d assumed the entailment would go to my horrible cousin Mortimer.

  Apparently not. According to the letter, he’d died as well.

  All these thoughts raced through my mind as I stared at the paper in my hand. Lord Blackthorne was dead? My uncle had been older, to be sure, but he’d always felt formidable to me. Unbreakable. Immortal.

  Now, at twenty-two, it appeared I was to be the ninth Viscount Blackthorne, lord of Blackthorne Manor and all its vast properties.

  “My lord.”

  I turned as Philip bowed formally. My mind rebelled in protest. I didn’t want this. I wanted things to go on as they always had. We were both sailors on this ship. He held a higher rank on the ship, but not in society. Now, once we left, our lives would alter forever.

  An odd grief engulfed me. Not for the passing of my uncle—but for the life I’d have to leave behind. I loved the sea. Loved serving aboard one of His Majesty’s Royal Frigates.

  Now I faced a landlocked and uncertain future. The estate needed me. Although I questioned my ability to run an estate of that size, leaving it in the hands of another was unquestionably wrong. Would I be accepted into the society that had so shunned me? For that matter, did I want their approval? Or was I to live and die a man isolated? The color of my skin had always held me apart. I didn’t resent it, but I did sometimes wish my life were different.

  I pivoted back to Captain Wentworth.

  He nodded. “Your discharge papers are being arranged as we speak. I presume you’ll depart immediately for Blackthorne Estate?”

  This time, I nodded. The village was several days’ journey by carriage—one reason I’d never gone home in the ten years since joining the navy.

  Everyone waited for me to speak, so I gathered my scattered thoughts and bowed to Captain Wentworth. “It’s been an honor to serve with you, Captain.” Part of me was dying inside. I didn’t want to leave.

  “You will do well, Lord Blackthorne.” He held my gaze. “I summoned Mr. Daniels as well. He’s served me splendidly over the last dozen years, but I believe he might be up for a new adventure.” His gaze stayed steady on me. “I thought you might like to offer Mr. Daniels employment.”

  The words were slow to penetrate. “Employment?”

  “As however you might find meaningful service for him.”

  He turned to my beloved.

  “You are welcome to stay aboard and continue to serve, but you’ve earned a small pension, and I believe you might enjoy employment with the new Viscount Blackthorne.”

  As sharp as a bolt of lightning, realization dawned.

  He knows.

  Philip and I had been so discreet—one had to be, aboard a ship filled with hundreds of men—but we’d found stolen moments. We’d found furtive intimacy in the past four years. And perhaps my not wanting to leave was as much the pain of losing the man I cared for deeply as any missing of the sea.

  “I would be honored to serve.” Philip met my gaze for a moment, then bowed his head. “In whatever capacity you see fit.”

  Fighting the urge to embrace him—and to tip his chin up so our gazes could meet—took all my strength. I didn� �t want there to be a status difference between the two of us. And yet, from this moment on, things would be different. How I wish I could erase that difference.

  After a moment, I nodded to the captain and bowed to his wife—as I did every time. She was a baronet’s daughter and the captain’s wife. More importantly, she was a woman of excellent character and of gentleness—I would always be respectful of all those things.

  She moved forward and held out her hand.

  I grasped it and kissed her knuckle. “Thank you.”

  “Our pleasure.”

  She offered me the serene smile I recognized.

  The one she often bestowed upon her husband. And a look she got when she gazed out over the vast ocean.

  Captain Wentworth held out his hand. “You’ll be a fine lord, John. I’m certain of it.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  We shook.

  This man had never treated me differently because of my skin color and, for that alone, he would always have my gratitude.

  “Well, Daniels, we should be off.” I had almost said Philip, but caught myself at the last moment. I had believed we’d been discreet over the past couple of years, but, apparently, I’d been mistaken. Or perhaps the captain merely assumed a friendship—especially given Philip and I always embarked together, returned together, and spent time conversing. Also, the captain might have been thinking of this as a way for me to repay Phillip for his mentorship. For the care he’d given me over these many years.

  Philip and I left the captain’s room and out into the brilliant sunshine. The reflection off the water glared, but it also offered hope. Hope of something different. Hope of something better.

  We made our way to the bow where we wouldn't be overheard.

  Philip stood silently, and I longed for him to speak. To advise me on what to do, like he had over the past ten years. But I realised I now had to be the one in charge.

  I hesitated then spoke quietly. "Are you agreeable to travelling with me to Blackthorne Manor and helping me?" I wanted to make it clear that I didn't consider him my servant. "You may call it your home for as long as you wish. You are welcome in my home any time."

  Philip stared out over the open ocean, then turned those sky-blue eyes to me. He smiled gently. "Shall we go home, my Lord?"

  I longed to go back to the moment before Captain Wentworth’s announcement. When I’d been John, and Philip had been my friend. Still, at least I wasn’t embarking upon this journey alone.

  “Yes, we shall.”

  And so we did.

  Chapter Two

  Philip

  I stared at John out of the corner of my eye. No, not John. Lord Blackthorne. Heavens, I had to remember to use that title.

  We’d taken a stagecoach from Portsmouth to London, and had hired a carriage, as the journey from London to Harrogate would be arduous and long.

  We.

  When Captain Wentworth suggested John employ me, I’d assumed he would gently decline. What use could he have for a forty-two-year-old seaman who’d been onboard ships since leaving school at the age of ten?

  The first few vessels had been cargo ships, but I’d eventually enlisted in the navy and found myself on the HMS Vulture. I’d served aboard many a grand ship over the past thirty years—and a few that hadn’t been seaworthy. Still, I’d done my time. And the captain was correct—I was entitled to a small pension. Barely enough to live on—which was why I’d intended to serve until forced off by a superior officer. I knew the captain had a soft spot for his older men, but even he’d have to be pragmatic when we were too old to carry our share of the burden.

  At least Napoleon was ensconced on Elba. For good, this time. I hoped. Would England find another adversary soon? We went from war to war, and then after the war with the Americas, and now the French, we deserved a break.

  John's mouth set in a grim line as I held the carriage door open for him like a servant would.

  I longed to kiss the sternness right out of him—as I’d done before on many occasions—but although the driver was securing the horses, others wandered near the inn we’d stayed in for the night.

  “Others think you're my manservant.”

  He knew the answer to this, so I held my tongue.

  John glared, but entered the coach.

  Before he could comment, I closed the door. Once I was secured above, we set off.

  “Do you think we’ll make it to the estate before dark?”

  The driver grunted.

  I chose to take that as assent.

  Once, when John and I had snuck away for some alone time down in the cargo hold, he’d told me about the vast Blackthorne Estate. Over five hundred acres with a dozen farming tenants, nestled next to the village of Harrogate. I’d never lived anywhere except London and then on ships, so I’d no notion of the countryside.

  John told me stories of his childhood. Despite the family scandal, the young man’d enjoyed a decent childhood, then was sent to join the navy at age twelve. He might only be twenty-two, but he’d make an excellent lord.

  We supped at an inn, John in a private room, while I shared a table with the other common folk in the public bar. Still, the meal was better than most of the rations I’d endured over the years.

  When we finished and again awaited the horses, John pointed to the road. “Another nineteen miles, and we’ll be at the edge of the estate. I can’t wait to show you the forest and the stream. We shall fish.”

  “My lord—” How to ask delicately? “—do gentlemen of your standing fish?”

  He looked stricken as the corners of his mouth drooped. “I don’t know about my uncle. I know he liked shooting, though.”

  “Then you shall shoot.” After a moment of silence, I cocked my head and lifted my brow in query.

  John sighed. “I don’t enjoy killing for sport. The French? Absolutely. A helpless animal? Not so much.”

  Ah. Well, as much as I felt sorry for him, I had an obligation to make things clear. “Lords hunt. They catch beasts so they may return and boast about their successes. You need to outshine the other men and charm the ladies with your exploits.”

  His eyes turned thunderously black. “There will be no ladies.” He cleared his throat. “At least not in the way you think.”

  I doubted he knew what I thought. He needed an heir.

  Still, he would struggle to find a wife. Many women would love the title of Lady Blackthorne—few, however, would accept marrying a black man to achieve that status.

  The driver approached, but before I could reach for the door, John grabbed the handle and yanked it open. He got into the carriage, closed the door, and glared at me through the window.

  I held in my smile—but it was a near thing.

  Once I was secure, the driver guided the horses back onto the road.

  This time, I didn’t bother trying conversation. I might not be the most learned man, but I was a quick study. John had often said so as he had me memorize Shakespeare and poetry. I’d never seen a need for such frivolity, but John insisted learned men knew of such things. Since I never figured on leaving the ship alive, I hadn’t seen the need to become a scholar.

  Now, as I ventured into my new life, I was glad of all the lessons John foisted upon me.

  And the kisses.

  Must not forget the kisses.

  I’d fought it. Against the attraction. Against John’s ardency. Against the ridiculousness of it all.

  He’d fought right back. The master debaters and orators could learn from that young man.

  My young man.

  I couldn’t remember the moment of my capitulation, several months after John turned seventeen, but I remembered that giving in had felt so good. Having his clever and fumbling hand on my body had caused me to react in a way I hadn’t for many years.

  Initially, when he’d come aboard as a lad, I’d sought to comfort him as he held himself apart from others less accepting. Years passed as that relationship grew into friendship. When he reached adulthood, though, he’d turned the tables on me. When we discovered our similar urges, he pressed for more. I held myself back, wanting to keep distance.

 

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