A Dash of Town Bronze

Nearly twenty years Mortimer’s junior, Jasper was very green when he’d arrived in London last spring, unleashed from the constraints of formal education and his overprotective parents. Since then, he had started to find his feet amongst the hazards of the social whirl with a distinctly coltish grace that occasionally faltered.

Looking over at Jasper, far more comfortable in a country sitting room than a Mayfair ballroom, Mortimer smiled to see the younger man so at ease.

“Yes, you need attention, too,” Jasper crooned at Pepper, one of Mortimer’s house dogs, pawing at his knee. Pepper licked his face, making Jasper laugh, while Mungo, the aged terrier, nudged his hand for an ear scratch.

I needn’t have worried, Mortimer thought with a smile, watching the show of indulgence towards his household pets.

Once Jasper had accepted his last-minute request, Mortimer fretted that he had made a mistake. Rather than furthering their relationship, being thrown into each other’s company without the distractions of the city might bring their differences into sharp relief.

He had momentarily forgotten that Jasper, like Mortimer, was a true countryman. When they arrived at Mortimer’s estate, his guest displayed an easy confidence he lacked in town.

Proving to be a more than competent horseman, he’d ridden around the fields, making intelligent comments about the lie of the land.  Similarly, Jasper had approached the outdoor and domestic staff with just the right degree of familiarity. He was capable of conversing with Mortimer about everyday landowning concerns, from rotating the crops to animal welfare, as though he was born to it.

Which indeed he was, Mortimer acceded. It was easy to surmise that the Goodhew establishment in nearby Worcestershire didn’t differ greatly from this estate in terms of land management.

The expedient absence of Mortimer’s sister-in-law and his young nieces, which had prompted the invitation, had made his and Jasper’s togetherness complete.

Once the household retired for the night, Mortimer navigated the darkened corridor to Jasper’s room. More often than not, Jasper was awake, awaiting the specific stimulation that gave him such intense relief. But sometimes, he was already slumbering when Mortimer slid into bed beside him. Jasper snuffled in his sleep and instinctively rolled towards Mortimer, seeking his body warmth, nestling into him in the most disarming manner.

Mortimer confessed himself as captivated by that unconscious trust as much as by the lissom body in his arms.

“A penny for your thoughts, Tim?”

Jasper was smiling as he continued to make a fuss of the dogs.