Enemies with an Earl – Male/Male Romance

A Lord most definitely should not sleep with his valet—even if the man is his ultimate fantasy.

He’s protective, composed—and hiding a dangerous secret.
Felix Jennings, the Earl of Bentley, has spent his life guarding his family’s safety—and his preference for men. Now, he’s stuck with the man of his dreams for an entire week, and it’s threatening to shatter every last shred of his carefully cultivated control. Not even playing the part of unbearable arse can mask his attraction, especially when Felix swears he sees desire in the heated glares Thorne throws his way. But if he’s wrong, it’s his family’s livelihood and his life on the line.

He’s cavalier, sarcastic—and he’s hiding a dark past.
Samuel Thorne, valet and best friend to the Duke of Devonford, despises aristocrats—pompous, self-absorbed scum, the lot of them. And the maddeningly handsome Earl of Bentley is no exception. Sam was forced to valet for him once before and that brief stint was more than enough. Now, his best friend has dropped a bombshell: he’ll be serving Bentley for an entire week. It’s shaping up to be pure torture—one where Sam isn’t sure if he’ll end up kissing the man or killing him.

It’s a volatile affair, where love and hate blur into one.
And just when they each start seeing with more clarity, Sam’s past comes back to threaten everything.

Trigger Warnings:
This book contains explicit adult content between consenting adults. This book contains mature themes and elements that may be distressing to some readers, including:
– Homophobia and societal bigotry, including internalized shame and negative self-perception
– Betrayal and entrapment involving intimacy used as a means of conviction, leading to emotional trauma, including depression and PTSD symptoms
– Mention of a parent’s death (death prior to the story), along with depictions of the character’s grief

Author’s Note

While Enemies with an Earl is a work of fiction, I made every effort to root the story in historical plausibility. The romance between Felix and Sam reflects not just the risks queer men faced, but also the often-overlooked reality: many lived full, even joyful, lives despite the law.

I recognize the very real dangers of the time. Sodomy was punishable by death, and those accused faced devastating social consequences. But historical records also show that not all queer lives ended in tragedy. Some men escaped prosecution, some were protected by their social standing or connections, and many more lived quietly or found ways to thrive within underground networks of support.

Sam’s story, though dramatic, was carefully constructed from real examples. While liberties were taken to tell a hopeful love story, I hope it also honors the resilience and complexity of queer lives in history.

As you read, you’ll notice references to several queer men. These men (not my characters, but the side-refences) are all real historical figures, and I touch on each of them briefly in the historical note (below).

Just a quick aside: The Harborage is a fictional organization I created. As far as I know, no such network actually existed. That said, I like to think there may have been underground networks doing similar work, perhaps on a smaller scale.

Historical Notes

Before we dive in, I want to give an enormous shout-out to Rictor Norton and his online database of Queer History. I highly, highly recommend reading Rictor Norton’s resources on this topic. He has amassed a wealth of information, and I got lost down many a rabbit hole learning about queer stories. I also linked some of my other sources below.

https://rictornorton.co.uk

“Strictly speaking, a focus on the prosecution, conviction and punishment of sodomites produces a legal history of homophobia, rather than a history of homosexuality. The study of the perception and repression of homosexuals constitutes a history of heterosexual prejudice, rather than gay history proper.” – Recovering Gay History from the Old Bailey by Rictor Norton

***Please note that the historical notes below may contain spoilers, so it is recommended to wait to read the note until after you’ve read Sam and Felix’s story.***

All right. Here we go! Get nice and comfy, because this one is going to be long.

There’s a common misconception that because sodomy was a crime and punishable by death, LGBTQ+ individuals during the Regency era lived in complete secrecy—like covert spies, hiding even from those closest to them.

This is FALSE. I don’t understand where this falsehood came from. There were literal places named Sodomite’s Walk, named BECAUSE queer men went to pick up here. Cruising grounds and molly houses were rife during regency. Oftentimes, there were pillories set up outside of molly houses, which was a sign to other queer men that there was a queer space nearby. Public sex was something that happened quite often. So, yes, the consequences if found out were horrendous, but that didn’t mean LGBTQ+ individuals hid themselves.

I think part of the reason this misconception exists is because we have found that documentation of positive queer relationships was deliberately destroyed. Lord Byron’s friend, Thomas Moore, allowed Byron’s memoir to be destroyed, and he excised the homosexual passages from the surviving journals and letters. Similarly, love letters between Lord Hervey and Stephen Fox were partially lost when Hervey’s grandson—the first Marquess of Bristol—tore out and destroyed the first twenty-six pages of that volume. This pattern becomes especially pronounced during the Victorian era, when it seems much of the existing “evidence” of queer relationships was systematically erased.

We’re always learning more about history, and I think it’s especially important to challenge long-held misconceptions and ingrained beliefs. I don’t want to gloss over the cruel realities—but it’s just as harmful to pretend there was no queer joy. That’s why I choose to write stories that overcome prejudice and condemnation, where there’s a pathway to love and happiness, even within the constraints of society.

A little background information on sodomy and punishments:

As defined by the law, sodomy meant anal sex, oral sex, and bestiality.

Note: To be found guilty of sodomy, there must be two eyewitnesses who could prove both penetration and ejaculation. (Caveat: 1828 was the beginning of a proud culture going underground. The sodomy law changed under the Offenses Against the Person Act, or the Lord Lansdowne Act, which repealed the evidence needed to prove sodomy.)

The consequences of being found out:

“The penalty if tried and convicted was most likely standing in the pillory for a day or so, perhaps imprisonment for a year or so, maybe transportation, less likely hanging–not to make light of any of these sentences, but don’t assume that being tried and convicted meant hanging. A person was more likely to be hanged for thievery than sodomy.” – Paulette Golden

There were also the social implications of the scandal, which could ruin reputations, and there were many instances where those either charged or suspected were ostracized and fled England.

I want to offer a bit of perspective through the numbers. In the first 35 years of the 19th century—the period during which the last men, Pratt and Smith, were hanged for sodomy in 1835—roughly 50 men in total were hanged. (The death penalty for the offense wasn’t formally abolished until 1861.)

This number does reflect an increase from the 18th century and is undeniably tragic. But when viewed in the broader context of the queer population in England at the time, it becomes clear that the majority of queer men were not prosecuted, let alone executed. While the threat of punishment cast a long shadow, many lived their lives happily, without ever facing legal consequences or public scrutiny. And that’s really the message I want to get across. There is so much more to queer history than the prosecution and punishment of sodomites (as Rictor Norton so eloquently said in the quote I included above).

What was actually much more common than being convicted and punished for sodomy? Being blackmailed

Sodomitical assault typically ended with a fine if found guilty. The law was used more for blackmail than anything, not unlike accusations of witchcraft.

The blackmail aspect was perhaps the most troubling, as it gave power to gangs and groups of thieves, such as highwaymen: “Report my crime, and my friends and I will accuse you of sodomy.” And ironically enough Self-identified homosexuals weren’t typically the ones being blackmailed, rather victims who found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“The soldier James Brown and his brother Thomas acknowledged that they had picked up and then blackmailed five hundred gentlemen in Bird Cage Alley, St James’s Park, in the early 1760s. It seems likely that many of these gentlemen were not just out for an evening stroll, but were seeking rough trade, and found it.”

“Another hustler named John Mitchell, who bragged that his penis was nine inches long, said that ‘when I wanted Money, I took a Walk in the Park, and got 4 or 5 Guineas a-Night from Gentlemen, because they would not be expos’d.’”

All right. Now I want to highlight some positive things in queer history:

Not everyone believed sodomy should be a crime, and despite the risks, queer communities still found ways to exist, connect, and support one another.

There were networks of people who provided safe spaces, like Molly Houses.

Did you know that quite a few Molly Houses were run by married couples (non-LGBTQ+)? I’ll say it again: just because it was considered a crime does NOT mean everyone believed it should be. There were even chapels in some of these molly houses where weddings were performed.

If we put this into perspective of characters in our historical romances, their openness would much depend on their family’s views and even their own personal perceptions of their sexuality. And while being an aristocrat came with more public scrutiny, it also came with a great deal of power (both title and wealth). And in their own home, among family members who do not conform to social pressures? They could very well live openly—especially with longstanding, loyal servants.

In addition to Molly Houses, gay men often sought each other out in specific cruising areas. These areas, known as molly markets, were places where men knew they could find others seeking sexual encounters. There were three main types:

Public toilets
Major public thoroughfares
Open fields or parks
Parks and open fields were actually more popular with gay men than with female prostitutes. Any location with large crowds and a reason to linger was likely to become a cruising ground.

In London, places like Sodomite’s Walk in Moorfields and Bird Cage Walk in St. James’s Park were notorious for these meetings. They were well-known spaces where gay men could discreetly connect with one another, and the pillories outside them often signaled that a gay space was nearby.

“Bird Cage Alley was used by gay men to pick up one another, as well as to pick up straight soldiers. They used a system of signals or coded gestures to indicate their desires to one another. They would sit on a bench and pat the backs of their hands. Or, if they wanted someone to follow them, they would poke a white handkerchief through the tails of their frock coat and wave it to and fro, then head towards the bushes off the path. In the Netherlands, Dutch gay men knew about these techniques used by the English mollies, and discussed them in their own gay pubs, which were called ‘lolhuysen’ or ‘fun-houses’.”

“Gay sex also frequently took place in public toilets. Public latrines with multiple cubicles were built in London from the late seventeenth century. Several of these served as what we now call ‘cottages’. The Savoy precinct bog house was used so regularly by gay men that members of the Society for the Reformation of Manners often posted themselves outside and could be sure of making an arrest. In the Temple precinct bog house, a hole was deliberately cut in the partition between two stalls in the year 1707 – making it the first recorded ‘glory hole’. The Lincoln’s Inn bog house, on the east side of New Square, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, also appears regularly in the trial records.”

Definitions:

“Cottages” refers to public toilets used as meeting places for men seeking anonymous gay sex. The term “cottaging” became slang in the 20th century, particularly in British English, for this kind of sexual activity in public lavatories.
“Glory hole” refers to a hole deliberately cut into the partition between toilet stalls, allowing anonymous sexual activity—usually oral sex—between men.

Entrapment:

“Agents working for the Society for the Reformation of Manners would act as agents provocateurs, and were called ‘trepanners’, i.e. entrapment agents. They worked in pairs. One would pretend to respond to an indorser or sodomite who seemed to be soliciting for sex, and when some action took place, usually when the sodomite thrust his hands down the breeches of the trepanner, the other agent would rush up and make the arrest.”

These trepanners learned the signals of queer men (something similar to what the villain William Minton in my story had done). The basic technique was to stand against the wall alongside the path and pretend to be relieving oneself, waiting until someone struck up a conversation about the weather.

Another detail I mention in the story is that trepanners were sometimes homosexuals themselves. This was the case in the entrapment of a man named William Brown, who was arrested along Sodomites’ Walk in 1726. His trepanner was a hustler working with the police to gain immunity from prosecution as a sodomite.

Another reason I bring up this case is because of Brown’s response when he was questioned. When asked why he had taken such indecent liberties, Brown “was not ashamed to answer, I did it because I thought I knew him, and I think there is no crime in making what use I please of my own body.” (A documented case of someone proud of his sexuality.)

“This kind of defense was not uncommon. In 1718 a watchman caught sight of two men making love against the railings in front of Covent Garden Church, and went up to them and started calling them filthy sodomites. John Bowes, whose breeches were down around his ankles, replied ‘Sirrah! what’s that to you, can’t I make use of my own Body? I have done nothing but what I will do again.’ This was in accord with the typical Enlightenment philosophy that sexual pleasure was a personal area that the law had no business meddling with. There was even a serious public debate in the newspapers in 1772, when a number of respectable people argued that sexual relations between men should be legalized as long as they take place between consenting partners over the age of 14, the age at which a boy became an adult.”

As I discuss later on, moral attitudes began to harden during the Regency and intensified significantly during the Victorian era. But cases like these, along with the public debate in 1772 make it clear that, prior to that shift, there was a more nuanced—and at times even permissive—public discourse around sodomy, despite its status as a capital offense.

Queer men in history mentioned in Enemies with an Earl:

Lord Leicester

What I describe in my story about Leicester is based on actual events. In 1808, when Leicester was around 30 years old, the Morning Herald published a rumor claiming that Lady Leicester had left him because he was a sodomite. Leicester unwisely sued the newspaper for libel—a misstep that only brought more attention to the accusation, especially since he was not discreet about his preference for men. The following is a small excerpt from Rictor Norton’s documentation of the case:

“At the trial, evidence was given showing that many years earlier Leicester had regularly had a weekly rendezvous with an Italian waiter named Neri at the Cocoa-Nut Coffee House. In fact, when Leicester entered Trinity College, Neri lived with him as his servant. Leicester generally wore a pink gown and ladies’ shoes laced with pink ribbons, and was called Miss Leicester. It was said that “Neri was a musical character” and that he and Leicester “often played duets together”, with Neri playing on the guitar. Later, the two men travelled together and then lived together at Leicester’s house in Westbourne Place, Paddington, while Lady Leicester lived separately at their house in Gloucester Place.

Evidence was also produced to show that Leicester was in the habit of giving gold watches to handsome privates in the Guards. It became clear that the Morning Herald could not further damage the reputation of a man who was already notorious. Leicester was awarded damages of only £1,000, rather than the £20,000 he had sued for.

But Leicester wasn’t present in court to hear the derisory judgment. He had already fled to Paris, with Neri, where he lived until 1823. Then they took a villa in Genoa, Italy, where Leicester lived under the assumed name George Compton. The family disinherited him. He died in Genoa in 1855 at the age of 77.”

Hon. Percy Jocelyn, son of the first Earl of Roden

In 1811, Percy Jocelyn, Bishop of Ferns, was accused by his brother’s coachman of “taking indecent familiarities.” Jocelyn deflected the charges and turned them against the coachman, who was ultimately convicted of libel and sentenced to two years in prison. Jocelyn’s reputation remained intact, and he continued his ecclesiastical career, bolstered by supporters who described him as “an exalted and venerable character,” and “virtuous, pious, and devout.” He later rose to become Bishop of Clogher, advancing further within the Church.

However, in 1822, Jocelyn was caught in a compromising position with a Grenadier Guardsman, John Moverley, in the back room of The White Lion public house. Though he attempted to flee, his trousers were still around his ankles when he was arrested. He was released on bail and fled to Scotland with the help of his family.

A note on context: in my story, which takes place between 1816 and 1818, I reference only the 1811 accusation, as the later scandal had not yet occurred. I included this detail in Enemies with an Earl to illustrate how much influence good standing and the support of powerful allies could exert.

William Beckford

In 1784, William Beckford, then 24, was caught in a compromising position with 16-year-old Viscount Courtenay. Courtenay’s uncle vindictively spread the report, and the newspapers soon picked it up. Beckford fled the country with his wife. He returned in 1789, once the threat of legal prosecution had passed, but he remained thoroughly ostracized by society.

Having been rejected by society, Beckford took his revenge by rejecting it in turn. He transformed his estate into an architectural masterpiece—but refused to share it with the world. He planted “a million trees” and enclosed the inner grounds with an eight-mile-long, twelve-foot-high wall topped with iron spikes.

I found Beckford’s case particularly interesting because, despite its very public nature, he avoided prosecution. This was due partly to the passage of time and partly because his accusers had died—and no doubt his wealth played a role as well. Still, his reputation never recovered.

This is where I drew some of my inspiration for how Sam’s situation panned out. Sam’s case was not nearly as public, though it had made circulation. My aim was to have it be a case where, it was long enough ago, it would have been mostly forgotten, and allow for enough doubt to be cast that he wouldn’t be ostracized.

^{A painting of Beckford’s estate Fonthill Abbey.}

What happened to Beckford’s lover? Lord Courtenay’s reputation suffered due to the publicity caused by his uncle. He also appeared to not have been discreet in his relationships because by 1811 a magistrate had collected enough evidence about Courtenay’s relations with soldiers to prepare a warrant for his arrest. He fled the country. He eventually inherited the title of Earl of Devon and managed his estate from Paris.

Reverend John Church: The First Gay Minister

Rev. Church married many gay men during his time (many of which occurred at The White Swan – a male brothel, one which was subject to a horrific raid in 1810). He also presided over the funerals of men hanged for sodomy.

You can read of John Church’s story here: https://www.rictornorton.co.uk/church.htm

You can learn more about The White Swan raid here: https://rictornorton.co.uk/vere.htm

All right. We’re going to have an entire section on gay marriage here:

The following is an excerpt from https://rictornorton.co.uk/marriage.htm

“Let us now leap ahead to early 18th century London, where gay men also got married, but without legal sanction. In the 1720s there were about 40 “molly houses” in central London, disorderly pubs or coffee houses where gay men (called “mollies”) socialized, singing bawdy songs and dancing country dances while someone played the fiddle. Many of these gay clubs had a “Marrying Room” or “Chapel”, where, according to witnesses, “They would go out by couples into another room on the same floor, to be married, as they called it, and when they came back they would tell what they had been doing.” These marriages were not monogamous, and 18-year-old Ned Courtney was “helped to two or three Husbands” in the Marrying Room of the Royal Oak at the corner of St James’s Square, Pall Mall.

Sometimes the ceremony was more formal. One “Wedding Night” in 1728 included two men acting as “Bridesmaids” as well as the bridal couple. Though transvestism does not seem to have been practised at such ceremonies, both men, as well as most other mollies, would adopt a “Maiden Name”. Men who formed such marriages included St Dunstan’s Kate and Madam Blackwell; Mademoiselle Gent (alias William Gent) and John Whale (alias Peggy Whale); and Aunt May (an upholsterer) and Dip-Candle Mary (a tallow-chandler). In spite of these maiden names – which both partners assumed – there is no indication of male-female role playing, for both men referred to their partner as a “Husband”. The term “wife” was never used among gay men.

Molly marriages didn’t have the blessing of any church until the 1810s, when Rev John Church officiated as the “Chaplain” at male gay marriages at The Swan in Vere Street. Some of the members of this gay brothel were Miss Selina, a police constable; Black-Eyed Leonora, a Drummer of the Guards; and Miss Sweet Lips, a country grocer. Rev Church, a Baptist, also presided at gay funerals, for example the burial of Richard Oakden, hanged for sodomy on November 15, 1809. Church himself was sent to prison for two years in 1817.”

When I read about this, I knew Felix and Sam were getting married. Personally, I don’t believe a love story needs marriage. For some people it’s deeply meaningful; for others, it’s not necessary. (Setting aside that during the Regency era, marriage was more of a social, economic, and legal institution than a romantic ideal). But for Felix and Sam, especially because of their individual longings for or complicated feelings about family—and the fact that the time period denied them that choice—it just felt right. And honestly, I think it’s beautiful that it existed. It’s another example of the good that persisted, despite the ugliness society tried to impose.

Let’s talk some influential LGBTQ+ individuals:

There is ample documentation via letters, journals, newspapers, and literature of aristocrats who were openly bisexual or homosexual.

John Hervey, 2nd Baron Hervey (1696–1743): Hervey was known for his relationships with both men and women, and he did little to hide them. Two of his most famous male lovers included:

Stephen Fox, later Earl of Ilchester. Their relationship was widely acknowledged in aristocratic circles, and they were known to be deeply affectionate toward each other.
- An aside – something I found interesting in researching this and briefly touched on above: “Historical documents being what they usually are in such cases, we cannot be absolutely certain that Hervey copulated with Stephen. There is an awkward gap in the information regarding Hervey’s early friendships: the first 26 pages of his volume of letters were torn out and destroyed by his grandson the first Marquess of Bristol. One cannot help but believe that Victorian prudery prompted this suppression.”
Frederick, Prince of Wales. There were strong rumors that Hervey and the Prince had an intimate relationship. Their bond was exceptionally close, and his political enemies frequently mocked him for it.

George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788–1824): Let’s be real. Byron was totally the OG fuckboy. An English Romantic Poet and known as “Mad, bad, and dangerous to know” coined by his lover Lady Caroline Lamb.

He had numerous love affairs and many of them were scandalous (with married woman and one with his half-sister). He was also married and had a daughter, though he was estranged from them shortly thereafter.

From documentation, it appears that many of his affairs with men were kept relatively private, though the ones that occurred outside of England were less-so. He held a strong dislike for England “because of its cant and puritanism.”

Of all his relationships, the one that seems to have touched him most deeply was with John Edleston, a 15-year-old choirboy Byron met at Trinity College when he was 17. From the existing documentation, Edleston appears to have been the true love of Byron’s life.

Turning to the darker side of history:

The Society for the Reformation of Manners, which is mentioned in Enemies with an Earl, was founded in London in 1691 with the aim of suppressing profanity, immorality, and lewd activities, particularly prostitution and brothels.

Entrapment:

I’ve already touched on the topic of entrapment, but there’s one more case I want to highlight—one that involves one of my villains: William Minton. Minton was the central figure in the first documented case of entrapment related to sodomy.

This entrapment case involved the Society for the Reformation of Manners, which targeted Captain Rigby as their first major catch. Rigby had just been cleared by a court-martial of sodomy, though apparently, he was not ashamed or deterred in the least. He appeared to be very self-aware and in tune with his sexuality.

William Minton was approached by Captain Rigby in St. James’s Park, where Rigby kissed and propositioned him. Minton agreed to meet Rigby again later that week to continue their encounter. However, after returning home, Minton alerted the Society for the Reformation of Manners, who helped him orchestrate a sting operation. (There are some who believe the entire thing was orchestrated from the start in St. James’s Park).

When the two men met again, Minton waited until they were in an embrace, then shouted a prearranged code word. Members of the Society rushed in and arrested Captain Rigby.

“He was convicted of attempted sodomy and sentenced to stand in the pillory on three occasions, to be fined £1,000, and to be imprisoned for one year.”

https://www.rictornorton.co.uk/eighteen/rigby.htm

One thing I want to highlight is that repression can sometimes have the opposite of its intended effect.

Throughout history, we see marginalized groups reclaim slurs or labels meant to shame them—stripping those words of their power and turning them into symbols of identity or pride. This kind of reclaiming doesn’t just happen with language. It happens at the community level too. Subcultures often form and grow stronger as a response to persecution or social pressure.
Ironically, efforts to crack down on homosexuality in the 18th century helped bring gay men together. Public attention from sermons, pamphlets, and arrests made it clear that many others shared the same desires, and that there were specific places to meet. What was meant to shame and isolate actually helped men realize they weren’t alone—and in some cases, encouraged them to find each other and build community. Faced with ongoing persecution, many began to meet in more private settings, laying the groundwork for a more organized gay subculture. Just like with other marginalized groups, the need to survive often sparked the creation of supportive networks.

When things started getting really bad:

Heightened Moral Policing escalated during the Victorian Era. The Victorian era saw an escalation in moral scrutiny—not just of sodomy, but of all behavior deemed improper. Authorities cracked down on behaviors that were considered socially corrupting. For example, during the Regency, a woman could be alone in a room with a man without it being considered scandalous. Many of the strict codes of behavior we now associate with earlier periods actually stem from Victorian norms. (And yes, that era’s obsession with constraint extended even to the literal corsets.)

A Shift in Culture and Acceptance: It was the Victorian era that ultimately staunched not just culture but social acceptance and pride. I’d argue that it wasn’t until the Victorian era that secrecy became more of a necessity for LGBTQ individuals.

More Systematic Policing: The establishment of modern police forces allowed for more structured surveillance and persecution of LGBTQ individuals.

The Labouchere Amendment (1885): This law made “gross indecency” (any sexual act between men, even in private) a crime, leading to high-profile cases like Oscar Wilde’s trial and imprisonment in 1895.

_{As I’ve noted, queer men most definitely lived—and even thrived—during the Regency period and earlier. But this story would look very different if it were set during the Victorian era. (Note, even so, post 1835 no more individuals were hanged for sodomy).}

Having A Voice Matters.

Even in the face of increasing repression, many resisted—speaking out, pushing back, and refusing to be erased. Their voices and defiance laid the groundwork for future change and, eventually, decriminalization.

Figures like Oscar Wilde (who was prosecuted but also unapologetically outspoken) and later LGBTQ activists helped spark the long, ongoing journey toward equality and rights.

Resources:

https://rictornorton.co.uk

https://www.jstor.org/stable/2638975

https://www.paullettgolden.com/post/homosexuality-in-the-18th-century

https://josselin.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2023/02/The-Hon-Percy-Jocelyn.-Tim-Alderman.pdf