'Is he in?'

Jacob nodded and opened the door wider to let Erik in.

Erik waited for him to close the door before he asked. 'How is he?'

'Drinking, Sir.'

Erik sighed. He touched Jacob on the arm. 'It's good of you to stay,' he said.

'I don't have anywhere else to go, Sir.' Erik could tell Jacob was only saying that to fend off any more emotional statements from Erik, which suited him just fine. He removed his coat, handing it to Jacob, before steeling himself for what he had to do.

Charles was indeed drinking, but Erik had caught him early. He was lounging on a sofa in the library, a glass of port in hand. He was reading, or pretending to read, since he had no doubt heard Erik arrive.

Erik walked right up to stand in front of him, waiting for him to look up. The stand-off lasted only a few seconds, before Charles snapped the book shut and looked up. 'Erik, what can I do for you today?' he said with forced cheerfulness.

'You can pack a case and come with me,' Erik said. No point in doing this gently.

'And where would we go?'

'My villa is being made ready as we speak. We could stay there, you could paint every view - and I promise they are spectacular – We'll stay until this all blows over.'

'This?'

Erik shook his head, looking away from Charles and sighing. Sometimes he wondered if Charles actually enjoyed vexing him. Or was he really so blinded by his love for that deceitful beauty? 'Charles, if you stay you are going to be arrested.'

'Don't be absurd, I've done nothing wrong.' He went back to his book. Erik watched him, noting the tense shoulders and tight grip on the glass. It would shatter soon if he wasn't careful.

'He has shown me a copy of a letter written to by you to William, and he has described... sketches.'

'They are nothing.'

'They are enough to get things started, which is enough to ruin your reputation.' Erik, desperate as he was to complete his mission, sat down beside Charles, yanking the book from his hand. Charles didn't react to the provocation except to take a large gulp from the port. 'You think a single one of the ladies who usually simper over your romantic scenes will want to buy a painting from a reputed homosexual?'

'Don't be crass, Erik,' Charles muttered, reaching for the side table to fill his glass, his face reddening.

'I am being practical. Please, Charles. Come with me. In a few years-'

'Years! I won't be driven out of my country because of some uncultured buffoon!'

Erik took hold of Charles' arm before he could inebriate himself further. 'Freedom abroad or destitution and possible prison here. Your choice. William is in all likelihood planning on testifying against you.'

Charles pulled free and sprang up, port spilling everywhere. 'William loves me and will put a stop to all this. Why does no one realise that? You are just like Mr. Buxton. You can't appreciate all that William has done for me.'

'He is a spoiled, vain, arrogant, brat-'

'If he is that, it is because of YOU!'

Erik rose, feeling failure crawl near his heart. He took out a cigarette to calm things down, realised he didn't have any matches, and without thinking looked at Charles out of habit. Charles grimaced as if this was the last straw, and threw his glass at him. It bounced off Erik's chest, shattering on the floor. Luckily, the port had already been spilled, so Erik got only a few drops on him.

The sound of the glass dissipated Charles' anger. 'Erik, I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me.'

Erik dried himself off with his handkerchief, sighing heavily and putting the damp cigarette in his case. 'I know exactly what has come over you, but I no longer care to stop it.' He walked to the door, glancing back at Charles, who stood limp and confused. 'If you change your mind, I will be leaving England in one week. Jacob will have the details.' He left Charles to his William.

XXX

'Sir, I believe we should board the ship,' his valet was saying, but Erik's mind was on the crowd, scanning for that mop of dark hair. If Charles came through that crowd, Erik swore he would devote himself to Charles. They should enact a pact, like Love's Labour's Lost, and be without any lovers to intellectually bankrupt them, though they might give the fasting a bit of a miss.

Charles did emerge from the crowd, and for a brief moment Erik felt what he would many years later recognise as pure joy. He would reminisce on how it might have been the first true emotion he had ever felt, which was nonsense of course, but some things Erik would never grow out of.

This moment of joy was shot dead by the sight of William Buxton accompanying Charles.

'Erik!' Charles called, smiling and out of breath. 'I was worried we would be too late.'

'We?'

Charles grabbed Erik's arm, giving him a most intense look that startled Erik into silence. 'He must come with me, Erik, or his father might do something terrible.'

Erik knew this was a lie, and a glance at William confirmed it, but Charles' eyes were utterly sincere. This was a plea for his lover's life, and how could Erik refuse that?

'Of course he must come with. The more the merrier.'

'Thank you, Erik.'

The journey would take them across the channel, then by train across France, always south in chase of finer weather. Erik had hired a car to take them the last leg of the journey. A very extravagant measure, which William took delight in complimenting.

The Lehnsherr villa was built on the rocks by the seaside not far from St Tropez. Having been completed only the year before, its architecture was an homage to ancient Greek ideals, with hints of Italian renaissance. It featured a grand fountain by the entrance, and a square tower at the south-west corner. A small sailboat could be found by the private dock.

It's interior made Charles gasp several times. Compared to the dark and serious Lehnsherr Manor Erik grew up in, the villa seemed to shine from an inner light. There were statues and painting everywhere, all natural scenes from mythology – with more than a little nudity – and flowery tapestries.

'It's so unlike you,' Charles said as he wandered from room to room.

'I suppose that is why I like it so much,' Erik mused, so soft Charles almost didn't catch it.

Charles and William settled into their rooms while Erik made sure everything had been made ready as directed. He suspected there would only be one guest room needed despite the added visitor.

There really was only one thing left to do: make Charles see what an utter fool William was making of him. If love blinded one to such an extent, Erik was very glad his wife had left him wide-eyed at their first meeting. She would not be coming here for the season, but preferred to stay at a hotel in Nice. She had in fact never said a word about the villa, or inquired after the costs or location, which was perfect since Erik knew from his bills she kept an apartment in Paris. Why couldn't all lovers be practical enough to accept these things about each other?

The most galling thing of all, however, in Erik's mind, was the fact that Charles was in love with someone who was an ideal version of Erik. Ideal in the sense that he followed through with all of Erik's professed vices. He did not admit this fact to himself, but it lay at the heart of everything he did from the day they arrived in St. Tropez.

The first evening was a display in extravagance. A little middle-class, perhaps, but it was the only way to ensure William got the message. Erik could protect Charles very easily for the rest of their lives. Charles needed William for one thing only, and one day the well(?) of inspiration would dry up.

The next day was an outing to see every beautiful view in a five mile radius. Charles brought his sketchbook and was positively giddy all day, sketching until his hand hurt. Erik promised they could return any day Charles liked with paints.

The day after that they stayed in town, dining at the best restaurant, and sosialising with everyone else who had come to town for the season. Luckily, the rumours of Mr. Buxton's accusations had not reached the public, so Erik could present Charles as his favourite artist without fear. Many ladies asked him to come paint their view, so they could have it on the wall at home in England. It proved to be a very good evening since Charles was monopolized by the ladies and therefore far away from William at all times, who being middle-class in blood and without artistic talent, was politely ignored by most except to remark how fortunate he was to be included in Sir Erik's party for the season.

Soon life fell into a routine, with Mr. Buxton far from everyone's thoughts. Charles would choose some outing whenever the weather was good, and paint all day. In the evenings they would dine out most nights, since Erik dreaded being alone with just the two lovers for company. Occasionally, Charles would make excuses, and William and Erik would go out, then go their separate ways. If they saw each other in any establishment, they never admitted it, though secretly Erik longed to confront William. About his gambling with Charles' money, about his affairs with men and women of every creed and station, and above all about his shows of affection to Charles. They would convince every man on earth but Erik, who could taste his own philosophy of detachment and cynicism growing stronger in the lad every day.

The Portrait, which of course Charles had brought, hung in his studio as a mocking reminder of how it all started. The young William gazed out from it with fresh wonder, and the new William often looked at it with a smirk.

Erik wasn't sure if he wanted to rip the portrait, or the man.

XXX

Charles could not help the smile on his face. The view was so beautiful, the weather perfect, and he was painting. He could see most of the town from where he was seated. How could he have refused to come here? Thank God for William for convincing him.

As the evening approached, the light changed so much he decided the painting was as finished as could be. How strange, for less than six months ago he would have insisted on changes for weeks after, but now he felt content. Was that William's doing as well?

He packed up and wandered down to the town, paying a local man to row him out to Erik's villa. Inside he found only the servants, which was odd since Erik usually returned to ask what Charles wanted to do for dinner.

He had just settled down for a good read when he heard voices in French out in the courtyard. His French was not very good, but he caught enough to understand a man was looking for someone.

When he came to the front door, he saw a handsome young man speaking to the butler. He was very young and wore a fashionable brown three piece suit. He was about Charles' height. He was local, Charles suspected, with shoulder length wild, dark hair, and a sharp, interesting face Charles immediately wished to sketch. His skin was dark from the sun.

'I'm sorry, Sir,' the butler began, but Charles waved him away, too distracted by the strange man's kind smile.

'Hello,' Charles greeted.

'Hello, Monsieur,' the man bowed, speaking very good English. 'I am looking for a man, he said he lived here, but I-' the man gave a shy laugh, 'I do not know his name. He was very handsome, blond, tall, with a... commanding presence.'

'Why do you wish to see him?' Charles asked, curiosity making him forget his manners.

'I... I feel that our conversation was unfinished.' The man blushed ever so slightly.

Charles cleared his throat, feeling his hands go clammy. 'I'm afraid he is not here.'

'But he does live here?'

'I- Yes, but he is away.'

'Ah, will you tell him Pierre called?'

'Certainly.'

'And... might I know his name?'

'Erik,' Charles bit out. 'Erik Lehnsherr.'

'Thank you, Monsieur.' Pierre bowed again and walked away, a slight spring in his step. Charles stood staring after him until he disappeared round the bend in the road behind some bushes.

Eventually he went inside and sat down in the drawing room. He was still sitting there when Erik arrived half an hour later.

'Charles?' he called out as he came in, his shoes clicking on the marble. He stopped in the doorway. 'Charles?' he repeated, curious at the man's odd posture.

'A man came by today.'

Erik slowly crossed the room, going to the cabinet to the right of the seating area to pour himself a drink. 'Oh? What sort of man?'

'A young man, beautiful. Just the sort you like, I expect.'

'I always admire beauty. It is the only true wisdom in this age of modern education.'

'Spare me your quips,' Charles muttered. He got up abruptly and went to the wide glass doors, staring off into the Mediterranean.

'My quips have always been my only defense against your anger.'

'I am not angry,' Charles said. Erik swallowed his drink and set the glass down, cautiously approaching Charles.

'I know your moods better than my own,' Erik said. 'What did this man want?'

'He said- No, he didn't say exactly, but I understood it well enough.'

'Ah.'

So, Erik thought, Charles had finally been confronted directly with the more sordid part of William's education. Perhaps- but no, of course, Charles would simply blame Erik all the more for corrupting his love.

'Charles,' Erik sighed, wondering how he could prevent a disaster. What if Charles decided to leave with William, to take him away from his evil influence? 'For what it's worth I am sorry the man had to come here, but it is not like you were ignorant of the fact that this sort of thing goes on.'

Charles turned to him with a look of incredulity. 'Goes on?' he asked.

Erik spread his hands. 'Well, yes, it does go on. Quite a bit.'

'Quite a bit!'

'Charles, I do not wish to speak of this, but-' Perhaps if he simply told Charles the full extent of William's corruption he would see that he had long ago surpassed Erik's influence and was running on his own steam. 'Men like the man who came today, they are everywhere, every night.'

'A... a new one every night?' Charles looked horrified at the idea, so Erik pressed on.

'Yes, of course. It's all fairly blatant, I'm surprised you were ignorant of it. It is really no surprise that one of them found his way up here. Not all of them are as well versed in the art of pleasure without the usual emotional attachment.'

'Stop, please, stop! I can not listen to more vulgarity! God, how can you say such things as if you are reading out an act of Parliament.'

'I did not want to be the one to tell you.'

'Then I wished you would have allowed me to keep my ignorance.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Yes, I am too.' Charles crossed the room to the door. Hopefully, he was going to confront William and finally end the whole affair. 'I will have my things sent for. Goodbye, Erik.'

'What?'

Charles was out the door, and in his stupor Erik did not move. Something, he suspected, had gone very, very wrong. He gathered what little energy he had left and raced after Charles, who was already down the steps and past the fountain, almost at the gate without even a coat or hat.

'Charles, wait, for God's sake.' Erik grabbed Charles' arm and the man spun to rip himself free. He glared at Erik with such fierce hatred Erik felt his soul crumble. What had he done? Charles still blamed him for all of it. 'Forgive me, please Charles. I did not know it would come to this.'

'Come to what? I have always known that you were a man of the senses, as you like to say, but I- I can not live with a man like you.'

'Like me? What are you talking about?'

'I-' Charles closed his eyes, struggling. 'It's none of my business who you spend your time with, I know that, but I just can't! So do not ask me to!'

'My time? Charles, please explain to me in precise language what you are talking about.'

'Your men,' Charles spat. 'Why don't you just invite them all to stay at the villa. That would save you a lot of time.'

'My- No, Charles, no, I have not-' Erik laughed. He was so relieved. It was all a misunderstanding. Charles turned away in disgust at his merriment. 'No, wait!' Erik grabbed him again, and again Charles wrenched free, but he did not go. 'I have never met any men here, not in that way. Hell, I haven't done that sort of thing for years. It was William the man was looking for. It was William I was speaking about just now!'

'Are you denying it now?'

'No, I am telling you the truth!'

'I do not believe you know what that word even means.'

'That was harsh, but deserved,' Erik conceded. 'But I promise you it was William the man was looking for.'

'He asked for a handsome, blond and tall man, with a commanding presence,' Charles quoted.

Erik laughed again. 'William is handsome, far more handsome than me, that you know more than anyone. And he is very blond, blonder than me, though not as tall, admittedly, but still taller than most men I have seen him with. And a commanding presence! I can promise you he has acquired that skill.'

'What desperate ploy is this?' Charles asked, shaking his head. 'Do not follow me. I am tired of your nonsense, once and for all.'

Charles walked out the gate. Erik thought for a moment he would run after, but as a gentleman he refused to allow the spectacle to go on, so he straightened his tie and went inside, ignoring the stares from the servants hiding behind every corner, trying to sneak a peak.

He poured himself another drink.