The First Act Read online

  The First Act

  By Vanessa Mulberry

  April 1594. William Moodie thinks he’s in love with celebrated actor Richard Brasyer. When Brasyer’s playing company, Goldfox’s Men, comes to town, William is only too willing to leave his country life for the opportunities of the theater and a life in London. Determined to become Richard’s apprentice, William seeks to impress his mentor with his acting—and please him in bed.

  Meanwhile, Richard struggles to escape his past as a spy and disentangle himself from the manipulations of his former master and ex-lover, Bennett Goldfox. Swearing off a relationship with his new apprentice proves difficult for Richard, as William uses all his youthful charms to seduce him. When Bennett’s life is threatened, Richard is lured back into the game for one final mission, and he and William travel to Cambridge to hunt down a list of traitors to the Crown.

  In the midst of danger and deception, Richard and William come to truly see each other, faults and all, and realize their feelings run deeper than either expected.

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  About the Author

  By Vanessa Mulberry

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright Page

  For my readers

  With thanks to Desi, Jo, Victoria, and Sue, who have all saved me from untold embarrassment.

  Chapter One

  April 1594

  AFTER THREE long months filled with hopes, dreams, and more than the occasional sinful fantasy, at last the day arrived. The celebrated playing company, Goldfox’s Men, returned to Oxford, and William Moodie hurried through the city’s bustling streets to see them. It would be the tenth time he watched them perform, and he was as eager as ever.

  The players had been touring for seventeen months, driven out of their home in London by the plague. William had been to every Oxford performance since, proudly telling everyone he met that Geoffrey Moodie, one of the company’s leading men, was his cousin. Few were impressed. Geoffrey had his admirers, but he wasn’t the draw, not even for William. The crowds came to see one man—Richard Brasyer.

  William whistled happily to himself as he went, too wrapped up in his thoughts to care what was happening around him. In his mind he was already in front of the stage, watching Richard perform. Perhaps today their eyes would meet, and William might communicate the secrets in his heart. He often gave himself over to dreams of their union, though he knew such fantastical thoughts had no place in reality, but just the idea of being in the actor’s presence again was a thrill. William’s whole body tingled, stomach aflutter, and he wasn’t even at the theater yet.

  Ah, Richard Brasyer. Handsome, wonderful, perfect Richard Brasyer.

  Richard’s looks were well favored, and he wore no paint to accentuate them. He had eyes as green as oak leaves in June, a perfectly straight nose, and a tidy beard, which was as dark as the thick black waves of hair on his head. Last time Richard visited Oxford, his hair was falling around his ears, which was long by both his own standards and the current fashion, but William didn’t care if Richard’s hair grew down to his knees. He would still be in love with him.

  Arriving at the inn where the company would be performing, William met Geoffrey at the door, and they embraced. His cousin was still chubby, despite the company’s straitened circumstances, and his blond hair was beginning to gray. He was forty years old—twice William’s age—and he looked it.

  “Cousin William!” Geoffrey said merrily, before looking around him for the rest of their family. His face fell when he saw they had not come. “Am I out of favor?”

  William grinned at him. “Never. Your sister Jane is in her childbed, so they remain in the village. I volunteered to come and give you the news.”

  Geoffrey smiled, but it was a tight-lipped, nervous thing. William understood. They’d already buried two of Geoffrey’s sisters.

  “How is she faring?”

  “Well. The babe is here, and it’s a boy. He was feeding when I left.”

  Geoffrey clapped his hands together and turned his face to the heavens. “What tidings! And such good timing. The plague is leaving London, and we are on our way back to Southwark. There will be no performances until we are set up next week at the theater, so I’m sure I will be able to stay a few days.”

  This was supposed to be good news, so William smiled, but he took no pleasure from it. If the company returned to the theaters of London, they would not drag themselves out to Oxford. William would likely never see Richard Brasyer again.

  Geoffrey led him to the courtyard for the performance and left him in a position where he would be at the front of the crowd. It was early spring, and the temperature was mild, with little breeze and blue skies. Clement weather always brought in more heads, but William was continually surprised by the number of people like himself who braved the rain and cold for a chance of entertainment.

  He leaned on a post, knowing he would be standing for a long time, and listened to other patrons talk of Irish rebellions and Catholic plots. He could understand their fascination. Conspiracy was not a part of his life on the farm; it was another world, filled with mystery and excitement beyond anything he would ever know. But the thought of adventure did not move him now. He could barely take in a word of what they said.

  William did keep an ear open for the womenfolk in the crowd, who whispered to each other how well they regarded Richard. That was more to his interest. He teased a few of the girls while they awaited the start of the show, pretended to humor them when they giggled over Richard, and buried his sadness at the company’s departure before it buried him.

  The crowd’s chatter lulled as a beating drum signaled the play was to begin. William, determined to enjoy his last moments in Richard’s presence, reminded himself that the love of his life didn’t know who he was. Even with Geoffrey as their mutual acquaintance, they’d never met. What did it matter if William never saw him again?

  My whole world. That’s what matters.

  Geoffrey carefully kept his colleagues away from his family, but he couldn’t keep the family away from the shows. That was how William fell in love with a man he had never been introduced to. He had fancied Richard from the first time he saw him step out onto the stage, but when Richard tenderly kissed a young male actor dressed up like a maiden, William wanted him more desperately than he wanted any other man before. His lips ached to be kissed like that.

  Seventeen months hence—William had been counting—and he hadn’t got that kiss. He didn’t even know how to go about getting such a thing, but he expected Richard would be kissing that boy again this afternoon.

  Lucky bastard.

  The performance seemed to race by, though William’s stiff legs felt the passage of time. He watched Richard wrap himself in intrigue and swordfight his way across the stage with the conviction of a man who did such things every day. He was incredible. When it was over, William hung back as the rest of the audience left, waiting for Geoffrey to approach and hoping he might get one last glimpse of Richard Brasyer.

  His cousin ambled over a short while later, still grinning. “What did you think?”

  “As good as ever,” William assured him.


  “That bad, eh? Well, no matter. I will still be paid. Now, you must hurry back to the village and make ready for our arrival.”

  William was sure his heart stopped. “Our?” he asked, careful not to appear too excited.

  “When I gave the others my news, they offered to stop at the village tonight and put on a brief show. We’ll bring meat and mead enough for all, but we’ll need light to perform by and a place to sleep. Half a dozen pallets in the hay barn will do. We can do three to a bed if you all can.”

  That meant eighteen men. They were all coming.

  Richard was coming.

  WILLIAM RACED back to the village. Mother and baby were still healthy and happy, everyone was in good cheer, and news of a free feast and a play only improved the mood. By dusk, most had lined up on the common awaiting their visitors.

  Standing in the middle of the row, after his older brothers and male cousins but before the girls and the children, William waited. Geoffrey went first down the line, but the rest of the players appeared to be in no order of importance. Six men passed before William found Richard standing in front of him, shaking his hand.

  Richard was even better-looking up close. His skin was unblemished, but he had a few lines around his eyes that betrayed his experience, and even a few gray hairs on his head and in his beard. He wore a dark gray doublet trimmed with vibrant blue taffeta, matching slops, and both a sword and a dagger hung from his belt. He cut quite a figure.

  “Hollo,” he greeted William warmly, “I’m Richard.”

  The moment was much longed for, and William had rehearsed it a hundred times in his head, but now his mind was blank.

  “H-H-Hollo,” he stammered, feeling his face flush. It was a stark contrast to the chill that ran through his body as gooseflesh pimpled his skin.

  Richard smiled at him indulgently and then moved on to greet the rest of the family.

  William found himself shaking hands with another member of the company, and his one chance to impress Richard was gone.

  With the light fading, the actors set up quickly for the performance and were soon in the middle of one of the shorter plays in their repertoire. William sat on the grass with his brothers and watched, but he struggled to enjoy the play after making such a fool of himself in front of Richard. This was the price of his idolatry, and he hated it. If only he loved Richard less… but how could he? Richard was perfect.

  When the play was over, the eating and drinking began. Everyone crowded around the fires and drank to the health of the new mother and her child, who were both resting abed.

  William took a stool and sat back in the dark to watch the merry group. He had already made a fool of himself, and he didn’t want to do anything worse. Besides, Richard was telling stories for the children, and William had the best position from which to look upon him unheeded.

  Richard’s face was illuminated by firelight, and if he felt William’s intense gaze, it did not worry him. Here was a man used to being watched. A quick glance at the villagers’ rapt faces confirmed William wasn’t the only person who couldn’t drag his eyes away from the mesmerizing actor.

  “There you are! I could barely see you hiding in the dark.”

  William looked away from Richard for a second to see his eldest brother, Francis, approach, carrying a stool and a jug of mead. Francis seemed a little drunk and was in high spirits.

  “Shh! I’m enjoying the story, and you will ruin it,” William chided in a low voice, hoping Francis would take the hint and go away. He didn’t want to miss a moment.

  “He’s good, isn’t he?”

  “He’s the best,” William said, careful not to sigh.

  His brother wasn’t fooled. “I noticed you forgot how to use your tongue when he spoke to you.”

  Everyone must have seen it, but William only cared about Richard’s opinion. He didn’t think it would be good. “I hope he comes back. I’ll do better next time.”

  “You are in thrall. But I don’t think you want to be like him.”

  So that’s what Francis thought. William knew he should be relieved, but he would have liked to reveal his passion to someone, anyone. It wasn’t an easy secret to keep. “Why wouldn’t I want to be like him?” he demanded, insulted on Richard’s behalf. “He’s marvelous. Every season he’s better than the last.”

  “I’ll grant you he’s talented.”

  “And handsome.”

  Francis snorted and leaned closer as he whispered, “The womenfolk love him, but I think he looked too comfortable kissing that pretty red-haired boy in the play. He’s the talk of London when he’s there, and that’s what they’re all saying.”

  William whipped his head around and attempted to search his brother’s face in the dark.

  “Where did you hear that gossip? You’ve never been farther than ten miles from the village, let alone to London. How could you know who he has in his bed?”

  “I heard it from our cousin,” Francis replied with a chuckle. “So don’t feel bad about embarrassing yourself in front of him. You may have done yourself a favor.”

  Francis let him be, and William continued to watch Richard alone, fearing his stuttering nerves had cost him even more dearly than he first imagined. He barely noticed when Richard bade the crowd good night and left with his apprentice, the youth he kissed every time he took to the stage. Only when they were completely consumed by the dark did William realize what was happening.

  Thankfully he knew where they were going, and he could get there first. The pallets had been set up in the barn as Geoffrey requested, and they would be alone in there this early. William had an idea of what they would do—his education on such matters being a particularly toe-curling church sermon and Francis’s bragging about what he did with his lady. William stirred at the thought of two men together.

  Silently he slipped away from the gathering and headed toward the barn, hurrying around and ahead of them. He could hear the two performers walking behind him and noted the lad was happy-drunk, while Richard seemed sober enough.

  They came to a halt at the barn door. William stopped abruptly alongside one of its walls, hoping they couldn’t see or hear him. After a moment’s silence, Richard grumbled, “Step back, Nick. Your breath smells like cunny.”

  “We’re not getting paid to be here. I decided I might as well enjoy myself,” Nick replied with a drunken chuckle.

  “There are herbs in my bag to freshen your breath.”

  “I better rub them on my cock too if the smell bothers you.”

  “Delightful.”

  “What? You should try it one day. You might find you like the taste.”

  “I tasted it in my youth, and it didn’t please my palate.”

  They entered the barn. William circled around to a shuttered window, jumping back against the wall as it was pushed open from the inside to let in some starlight. He did not risk trying to look through it.

  “How did I ever end up with a dedicated woman-lover in my bed?” Richard asked wearily.

  “Men might not be for me, but money’s another matter.” Nick mumbled the reply through a mouthful of mint, and a faint waft of its scent made its way out to William. He realized then that they were only steps away, and he pressed back against the wall, afraid of being caught. Suddenly Nick poked his head out of the window and spat out his mint leaves. He returned a few moments later and did the same with a mouthful of water.

  Straw rustled as one or both of them lay down on a pallet.

  “So do you want me for bed work or not?” Nick asked. “I’ll give you a suck if you fancy it.”

  “I did a few minutes ago, but I’m not so keen now.”

  “You’ve got me feeling guilty.”

  Richard laughed. “Don’t feel guilty about what you are. You don’t like men. I don’t like women. Other people like both and some like neither. The world is big enough for all of us, even if the law says otherwise.”

  This is an education!

  They were silent a moment
, and then Nick asked, “Does this mean I’m getting my wages cut?”

  They both giggled.

  “Why not play a part for me tonight?” Richard suggested. “I’ve no room in my bed for a cynic like you, but a charming country boy would please me.”

  “H-H-Hollo,” Nick said in a perfect imitation of William’s stammer.

  “Yes, he’s the one.”

  William clasped his hand over his mouth to stop himself from gasping. He wasn’t sure whether he should feel shame or excitement. Both feelings were quickly replaced by arousal as the pallet rustled again. Two soft thuds followed as a pair of boots hit the floor, and William imagined Richard removing his hose. More rustling, of both straw and blankets, and finally they were still.

  William’s cock ached to be touched as he listened and pictured what he could not see. There was no slap of flesh, and Richard was moaning softly. Nick must be using his mouth, but William couldn’t decide if he was lying on the pallet or was on his knees. However he worked, he sounded very good at his job.

  Suddenly Richard said, “You should be clumsier. You do that better than my country boy would.”

  “You can pay him to come do it if that’s what you want.”

  William’s heart thumped wildly in his chest. Should he interrupt them? It didn’t sound like Richard would mind.

  Then Richard disappointed him. “All I want is for you to do your work with a little less skill and a lot more thought.”

  “And what will be your thoughts?”

  With a hum of pleasure that told William Nick had returned to his work, Richard murmured, “Simpler pleasures.”

  William remained until muffled moans told him Richard came off. He dashed away from the barn and out into the woods, where he hoped he would be undisturbed. There he slumped against a tree and took himself in hand. It didn’t take much for him to find release.

  After a quick cleanup with some leaves, William returned to his parents’ home and got into bed. He could not sleep. All night long, he dreamed of Richard, turning over in his mind what he’d heard. Tonight had been his only chance, and he’d let Richard slip away into the night with someone who clearly didn’t appreciate him. Not that Richard seemed to appreciate Nick much either. Their relationship was definitely one of convenience, not love.