by Merry Farmer
“Not really,” Max confessed, sending Joe an apologetic look. A moment later, he stood straighter and blinked. “Actually, there may be someone who can help you.”
Alistair felt as excited as Joe looked at the statement.
“I’m all ears,” Joe said.
“Have you heard of Dandie & Wirth?” Max asked Joe.
“Heard of them, yes.” Joe nodded. “We’ve all heard of them.”
“Dandie & Wirth?” Alistair asked, indicating he hadn’t.
“They’re solicitors,” Max explained. “In truth, they are the unofficial solicitors for The Brotherhood. If we have a legal problem, that’s where we go.”
“A missing sister isn’t exactly a legal problem,” Alistair said, inching closer to Joe.
“Their connections extend beyond court cases and wills,” Max went on. “They are so much more than simple men of the law. David Wirth is extraordinarily well-connected. He knows almost everything going on in this city, and if he doesn’t know it, he knows someone who does. He charges a small fee for his services, of course, but I’ve also heard that he has a passion for helping those whom the law routinely ignores and casts aside. Something having to do with an event in his past, I believe.”
“Then we should speak to him at once to see if he has any leads on your sister,” Alistair said, not even questioning that he would be involved in helping Joe in every way.
Joe met his enthusiasm with a smile.
“They can help with your little problem too,” Max said, drawing Alistair’s attention again. When Alistair raised a questioning eyebrow, Max said, “You need to speak to Mr. Lionel Mercer. He’s the clerk at Dandie & Wirth. Although, if you ask me, he’s much more than that.” A mischievous look lit Max’s expression.
“He sounds like an interesting chap,” Alistair said.
Max laughed. “You don’t know the half of it. David Wirth might know everything that’s going on in this city, but Lionel knows everyone. And I mean everyone. He doesn’t just know them, he knows their stories and their secrets. He’s the cleverest man I’ve ever met. Beyond clever. The man is supernatural.” Max thumped Alistair’s arm. “If you want advice about what suitable lady to court and how to convince her to take the plunge, ask Lionel. You won’t be sorry.”
Alistair was both intrigued by the prospect and worried that this Lionel Mercer might do too good of a job. And at precisely the time when Alistair had met someone he wanted to get to know much better.
But Joe said, “We should go see them at once.”
“You should,” Max agreed.
Both of them looked to Alistair. Joe’s eyes in particular were filled with hope. It was as obvious as day to him that Joe Logan could ask him for just about anything and he would give it freely.
“All right,” he said. “We’ll visit Dandie & Wirth. And with any luck, our problems will be solved in no time.”
Either that or they’d trade one set of problems for another.
Chapter 5
Alistair was nervous. It was the most charming thing Joe had seen in weeks. Alistair was trying to hide his feelings, as most noblemen did, but it didn’t take much for Joe to see right through him as they left The Chameleon Club together and headed east.
“What do you think of the club?” Joe asked as they strode on, side-by-side but without touching.
“It’s remarkable,” Alistair said, his expression conveying surprise. “And not at all like I would have imagined.”
“What would you have imagined?” Joe laughed.
Alistair shrugged. “Generally, establishments catering to our sort—” He glanced around as if checking to see whether they might be overheard. “—have a reputation for being seedy. In which case, they make me uncomfortable.”
“You’ve been to the wrong places, then,” Joe said. “But I understand what you mean.”
Alistair sent him a grateful smile. “Yes, I believe you do understand me.”
Joe smiled back at him with a feeling like his chest had filled with songbirds. It was quaint and ridiculous, like the first time he’d ever felt as though he wanted to be more than friends with one of the boys back home. He held the feeling close, but didn’t take it seriously. There were too many reasons indulging in sweet fantasies with a nobleman wouldn’t work.
“What made you decide to consult The Brotherhood about your sister?” Alistair asked as they crossed a street and continued through the relatively quiet streets of Mayfair, dampening Joe’s sweet feelings a bit as he was reminded where his thoughts should have been. “I had the impression that you intended to search for her on your own when we spoke last night.”
Joe shrugged, thrusting his hands into his pockets to keep himself from doing something foolish, like reaching for Alistair’s hand. “I haven’t had much luck on my own. When I suggested The Brotherhood as a solution for your problems it made me realize they could be the solution to mine as well. After all, if there are members with experience finding wives who will look the other way, there might be men who know what to do about my problem. And it appears I was right.”
Alistair nodded, an air of shy uncertainty still hovering over him. “Tell me about your sister. Is she the sort who would see London as an adventure worthy of leaving a stable job to explore?”
Joe frowned. “No. Not at all. Which is precisely why I suspect foul play in her disappearance.” Alistair nodded but said nothing as they strode on, passing maids running errands, nannies taking their young charges to Hyde Park, and carriages containing London society’s finest, on their way to and from calls or clubs. “Lily was always very industrious at home. She talked of nothing but her excitement about coming to London to work. She dreamed of sending money back home so that our younger siblings could live a better life.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t precede her to London,” Alistair said, studying him closely, as if he were genuinely interested in the life and history of a simple valet.
Joe sent him a self-effacing smile. “I already had a position as an assistant tailor in Leeds. I’d been sending money back for years.”
Alistair let out a short laugh that ended with a lopsided grin.
“Do you find something amusing in that?” Joe asked, suddenly wary that he wasn’t being taken seriously.
“No, not at all. I mean, not in that way.” When Joe arched an eyebrow at him, he went on with, “I’ve lived the sort of life were money was never an object.”
“So I see.” Joe raked him from head to toe with a look, intending to convey that Alistair’s expensive clothing gave his financial state away. He enjoyed what he was seeing for entirely different reasons, though, and risked sending Alistair a rakish grin.
He was rewarded by a flush of pink that spread up Alistair’s neck to his cheeks. “What I mean is that my family has never been in a position to worry about money. We worry about other things.”
“Such as?” Joe prompted him.
Alistair laughed again, but there was far less humor in it. “We worry about status and propriety. We worry about carrying the weight of the nation’s history and traditions on our shoulders. We worry about leading the nation so that we maintain our place in the world.”
“A heavy load indeed.” Joe didn’t mean to belittle Alistair’s concerns, but his words came out with a certain level of dismissiveness.
Alistair looked a little hurt. He pulled the collar of his coat up against the chilly morning as they walked on. “It may not be anything to you. You may think we’re all a bunch of snobbish toffs. But I can assure you, we take our responsibilities seriously.”
“I know.” Joe winced to show he was sorry. “We all have our place in the grander scheme of things, and each place has its own challenges.”
“I hate that word, ‘place’,” Alistair said, hunching his shoulders slightly. “It excuses all manner of evils.”
Joe’s brow shot up. He was so interested in the earnestness of Alistair’s expression as he spoke that he nearly stepped out into
the street before the carriage crossing in front of them had moved past. He had to jump back, nearly slamming into Alistair as he did. It was a shame that he didn’t run fully into the man. It would have been nice to have that contact, if only for a moment. Though if he had even the slightest excuse to grab hold of Alistair’s body, he wasn’t sure he would be willing to let go.
“Do you really think that?” Joe asked once he and Alistair made it to the other side and walked on.
“That hierarchy has become more of a hindrance than a help?” Alistair asked in return, then answered his question with a nod. “Perhaps the trappings of feudalism were useful in the days of knights and marauders, when famine was a yearly worry and life depended on a strong leader shepherding his people. But I cannot help but think we’re outgrowing that at a fast pace.”
Joe watched his face sink into a frown, and then melt into an expression of helplessness. His heart squeezed in sympathy. “Are you saying that because you’re a true progressive, or is it because you feel the burden of continuing the title and all that it means a little more keenly than most?”
Alistair glanced his way, looking as though he’d been caught expressing revolutionary opinions. “I suppose I might feel differently if I were…different. Or rather, if I weren’t different.”
Joe hummed, needing no further explanation. “I must confess, my experience of the titled class so far has not endeared me to any of you or your sense of responsibility.”
“Oh?” Alistair’s brow lifted with curiosity as they prepared to cross another street. They’d made it halfway across Mayfair, barely breaking stride. All manner of people walked around them, but it was as though the two of them were traipsing through their own, private world.
“I believe it’s considered inappropriate to speak ill of one’s employer,” Joe said with an arched brow.
“You can say whatever you’d like.” Alistair grinned. “I’ve never been overly fond of Burbage.”
That came as a mild surprise to Joe. “Really? Last night, you and your family were part of what I was given to understand was a dinner among valued friends.”
“That’s my father’s doing,” Alistair explained, shaking his head. “Though Father doesn’t care much for Lord Chisolm either. But he does believe in the old adage of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer.”
For some reason, the statement made Joe feel as though he were on the edge of a far greater discovery. It also made him uncommonly sad. No one should be forced to associate with friends who weren’t friends at all. “If you don’t mind my asking, why doesn’t your father like Lord Chisolm?”
Alistair shrugged, glancing around to be certain that none of the inhabitants of Mayfair—most of whom were probably well acquainted with the subjects of the discussion—were listening in. “Father has never liked anyone in the Eccles family, even though the Bevanses and the Eccleses have been associated going back generations. That is another drawback to class,” he added in a slightly more casual aside. “We’re expected to maintain friendships with the right people, even if we can’t stand them.”
“Has Burbage ever done anything against you personally?” Joe asked. He could certainly see Burbage being an utter ass to someone like Alistair. Burbage was aggressive and brass and preferred the company of men like him, bounders and rakes. Alistair was certainly masculine enough to run in Burbage’s circles, but Joe was beginning to see that Alistair was more of the sort to be at home in a library in the country than staying up all night in a gambling hell, winning and losing fortunes, and bedding whoever happened to be willing. Those facts made him admire Alistair all the more.
“I’m not Burbage’s sort,” Alistair said, confirming Joe’s suspicions. “Not that he didn’t try to convert me to his cause at university, so to speak. I believe he found me a waste of time. Burbage liked whiskey and women, and I’ve never been fond of either. And his taste in both was cheap.”
Joe frowned, once again feeling as though he were on the edge of something. “What do you mean by that? Did he frequent brothels?”
“Yes,” Alistair nodded, his expression turning thoughtful as they rounded a corner and headed into a busier section of town. “But he also prided himself on seducing the otherwise modest and virtuous daughters of the tradesmen that did business with the university.”
A twist of anger pinched Joe’s gut. “Like young maids, fresh from the country, eager to impress their employers?”
Alistair nearly missed a step. He glanced to Joe with suddenly wide eyes. “You don’t think that Burbage has something to do with your sister’s disappearance, do you?”
Joe paused, blowing out a breath and rubbing a hand over his face. “The thought has crossed my mind, but I have no evidence of it and no proof at all. Just a thorough dislike of the man. Besides, anyone lower than his own class is completely insignificant to him. I don’t believe he would have noticed Lily’s existence, let alone set his sights on her.”
“Have you approached him about it?” Alistair took a step closer to him.
The proximity went straight to Joe’s head. Alistair’s movement brought a hint of his cologne with it. The rich scent swirled through Joe, filling his mind with fantasies of loosening Alistair’s collar and bringing his lips to the man’s neck so that he could breathe him in more fully and taste his skin. He might even leave a mark where only Alistair could see it. The idea thrilled him.
He had to blink and take a step back to say, “I wouldn’t dare,” meaning the words both in answer to Alistair’s question and in response to his own desires.
“Perhaps I could ask for you?” Alistair inched back as well, color rising on his face, hinting that he’d had a similar reaction to Joe.
Joe’s lips twitched into a doubtful grin. “What would you ask him? ‘Pardon me, Lord Burbage, you wouldn’t happen to have seduced and disposed of any young maids recently, would you?’”
Alistair lowered his head slightly. “You have a point.” They walked on. “But perhaps there is a way I can discover pertinent information without addressing the matter outright.” When Joe peeked sideways at him, Alistair said, “My father may just be right about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer.”
“I wouldn’t wish proximity to Burbage on anyone as lovely as you,” Joe said before he could fully think through his words. They crossed the street to cut through a park-like square.
When Alistair remained silent, Joe glanced at him and found him grinning and pink-faced.
“I think you’re rather wonderful as well,” he said in a soft voice.
Joe would have shaken his head if he hadn’t thought the gesture might offend Alistair. The two of them were as preposterous as children learning to flirt, and yet, there was something completely joyful about it, something so much better than the hard-edged lust his flirtations with other men always seemed to be. In those instances, the goal had been clear and short-term. With Alistair, he wasn’t sure. He absolutely wanted the man naked and underneath him—or on top of him, he wasn’t picky—as soon as possible, but more than that, he wanted to talk with him, laugh with him, and make him smile.
“I’m sure your family—” he started, but was cut off by a loud bark and a mass of grey fur hurling toward the two of them from the square they walked through.
“Stop, Barkley, stop!” A small boy in a sailor suit with his hair slicked back charged after the dog.
Barkley looked as though he had no intention of stopping. He was some sort of wolf hound and bounded across the park as fast as a horse, his pink tongue flapping to one side, his eyes bright with the light of freedom. Joe thought fast, dodging out of the dog’s way, but Alistair wasn’t as quick.
“Whoa, boy,” Alistair called, holding out his hands in an attempt to stop the charging beast. Barkley leapt right into his arms as if he believed himself to be a corgi or a terrier, which sent both man and dog toppling backward into the grass with a thud.
“Barkley, no!” the boy shouted, skittering
to a halt just in front of the pile that was Alistair and dog.
“Alistair.” Joe rushed forward, ready to drop to his knees and wrestle the dog away from Alistair if he had to.
But after a tense moment of stillness, Alistair began to laugh. “That’s enough, boy, that’s enough,” he carried on, twisting this way and that as Barkley licked his face, pinning him to the ground.
Joe had never envied a dog so much in his life. “Are you all right?” he asked, laughing himself once he was certain Alistair wasn’t hurt or in danger. He moved in closer, hooking a hand under Barkley’s collar to pull him off.
Barkley barked once, then shifted his focus to Joe, jumping up and putting his paws on Joe’s shoulders. The shock of having a dog stare him straight in the eyes was nearly enough to knock Joe over as well.
“He really is a good dog, sir,” the boy said, dodging between Barkley and Joe in an attempt to grab a leash that flapped freely from its clasp on Barkley’s collar. “Really, he is.”
“He certainly is friendly,” Alistair said as he dragged himself to his feet. He wiped his face gingerly on the sleeve of his jacket, alternating between laughter and grimacing.
“Would that we all could be so friendly,” Joe said, shrugging Barkley’s paws off his shoulders.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the boy said, catching the leash at last as the dog danced around him. “Barkley, sit.”
To Joe’s astonishment, the dog—who was twice as big as the boy—sat.
“No harm done,” Joe said, then turned to Alistair. “At least, I think no harm done.”
“None,” Alistair agreed.
Joe reached into his jacket pocket to take out a handkerchief. He stepped closer to Alistair, but instead of simply offering Alistair the square of cotton, he went ahead and wiped Alistair’s face. Alistair froze as Joe’s utilitarian gesture turned tender. Joe took his time, brushing away dirt as an excuse to learn the lines of Alistair’s jaw and the curves of his cheeks. They both held their breath as Joe brushed his thumb over Alistair’s lips, the corner of the handkerchief the only thing keeping their skin from touching.
