“We had been born into affluence, and swaddled in riches accumulated by our families, we moved through our days without a care in the world. As children, we learned Latin, as was required, and religion, of course, and we could dabble in swordplay, but it wasn’t a prerequisite for our lifestyles. No, there was no need to swing a blade when you had a brain in your head…and oh, how we thought we had brains.

“I was shipped off to Oxford to further my education, and that’s where I met Etienne, Garrick, Yannick, and Topher.” Max stopped when he noticed Bennett straightening in her chair. “Save your questions for the end, my dear. Some of these names will not be familiar.”

“Sorry,” Bennett said, relaxing back in her seat.

Max took a sip of his drink, keeping his eyes lowered as he continued. “We were just boys then, some of us fourteen, some of us slightly older, and with our pimply faces and newly deepened voices, we attended classes during the day and rabble-roused at night. Of course, it was frowned upon, but that never stopped us from finding a tavern or a brothel…or both. We’d pound down the drinks and then pound into the bodies of rotund whores smelling of mead and rosemary perfume, and eventually, we’d stumble back to our quarters, sated and spent.” Max looked up, and a faint blush crept across his cheeks. “My apologies. I digress.”

“Please don’t apologize,” Bennett said softly. “Go where your memory takes you.”

“Shall I continue then?”

“Yes, please do.”

Max returned to staring at the glass in his hand. “We were quite the band of merry mischief-makers throughout our years at Oxford, but eventually, we completed our studies and returned to our homes. Topher and Garrick had arranged marriages waiting for them, agreements between families to fatten coffers already overflowing with coin and jewels, and Etienne returned to his sweetheart, Ismay, and married her within a few months. I, too, was contractually bound to wed, and my father’s choice was a girl named Elfrida whose father owned quite a bit of land. She was rather homely and had an ear-piercing cackle that set my teeth on edge, and unlike the buxom prostitutes I had sampled whilst at Oxford, she was flat as a board. I’d yet to come to terms with my own particulars, so to speak, but looking back, I think that’s the reason I could tolerate bedding her. She felt like a boy in my arms.