Buggered, Algy thought sadly to himself sometime later, was the one thing he was not. He kicked moodily at a dandelion—or possibly a rhododendron; horticulture had never been his forte—as he strolled through the rather lovely grounds of Blithering Coombe, Cedric’s father’s estate. It was a damned shame it hadn’t worked out with Hibbert—in many ways, he’d been the ideal servant: discreet, reliable and a stevedore in the sack.
Where on God’s green earth was Algy going to find another man like that?
As so often when his thoughts turned to potential lovers, Algy found his feet had turned towards the stables. There were so many interesting things to be found there—whips, bridles, assorted arcane items of leather and brass, their purpose lost in the mists of time…Algy adjusted himself hastily
