The Right Hand Of The Father

chapter 16

They reached the door to their suite and it was all George could do not to press his boy against the door and kiss him breathless before they even entered the room. He’d been silent the entire walk back to the hotel and George had watched as he kept glancing at the ring on his finger and smiling. Then he’d glance at the box George was carrying and swallow, his eyes wide and his cheeks pink.

Some part of him thought that perhaps he should have warned Alexander before they’d gone to Revere’s. The casual sexuality that seemed to embody the port town had shocked most of them when they’d arrived here a decade before. Men flaunting their mistresses — and their boys. Shops with back rooms where carnal delights could be found.

It was a different world from the strict Anglican or Puritan upbringing that the American men had been raised with. The clothes were richer. The colors brighter than their own somber palette had been. The days were warmer and certain social standards were looser. In New Orleans— like Paris— it was considered gauche to actually honor your wedding vows. A man without a paramour was considered suspect. One was at least expected to maintain a relationship with a pleasure house if nothing else.

Patronage was a sign of good breeding.

He’d wanted Alexander to see first hand, from the very beginning, that he had no reason to be ashamed of their relationship. Of his own sexuality. Of his desires for giving and receiving pleasure.

George missed his home in Virginia but he did not miss her close minded morals and the way those edicts stifled the happiness of her people.

He felt a gentle hand reach into his coat pocket and retrieve the elaborately worked key that opened their door. Alexander slipped it into the lock and turned it, looking up at him with a shy smile.

“How are you feeling my boy?” George asked as he followed him into the room and set the box on the table next to the door.

“A bit tired,” Alexander said quietly.

“I imagine so.” George reached out to pull him into his arms. Pressed his face down against his boy’s hair. “You had an eventful night last night and then I woke you and stole you away to the city without a by-your-leave. Then I walked my poor boy all over the city so that I could buy him things. Perhaps you would like to take a small nap before we leave for dinner?”

“Will you come with me, daddy?” Alexander asked quietly. “You know I don’t like to sleep alone. The bed is too big without you.”

“Perhaps I might be persuaded to take a small rest,” George teased as he nuzzled Alexander’s hair and then bent his head for a sweet kiss. “Would you like me to bring your new toys with us?”

He felt Alexander tense and then begin to tremble as he shook his head no. “Not now Daddy.” Alexander looked up at him with wide eyes. “Just you for now, please. I just want to be with you.”

“Of course my love.” George kissed him again. “We’ll take the tin mold with us but nothing else. That way I can arrange to have it sent to Mr. Revere while we’re at dinner. Then he’ll send your present along to us in the morning. Now, why don’t you go on into bed Alexander and daddy will be with you in just a moment.”

He watched as his boy stumbled sleepily into the bedroom and then turned back to the box. Apparently, his Alexander wasn’t as ready as he thought for such things. He should have paid more attention. It was common enough for a boy who’d been raised to the idea of whoring and patronage to expect such things. Tools of their trade as it were. A blooded boy expected to receive his own toys the same way an apprentice surveyor expected a sextant and a compass when he was given his status as a journeyman.