by Merry Farmer
“Very good, my lord,” Jennings said with a bow, acknowledging Joe with a nod.
Joe nodded back, making Alistair wonder if there were an entire language among servants that he knew nothing about. There wasn’t anything more to say or do in the situation, so he started upstairs, gesturing for Joe to come with him.
“We can make this work,” he whispered as they neared the top of the stairs.
“If you say so,” Joe said doubtfully.
Alistair swallowed, reaching subtly to brush Joe’s hand as they turned the corner and headed down the hall toward his room. If he were honest with himself, he wasn’t certain they could pull it off either.
Chapter 16
Alistair’s heart and mind were a mess as he rode through the darkened streets of Mayfair to Eccles House. It didn’t help matters that he’d agreed to pick Lady Matilda up along the way. Though the distance between her family’s home and Eccles House was crossed in a matter of minutes, Lady Matilda spent the entire trip complaining about her sister.
“It’s as if she wants everyone to comment on her increasing shape,” she said with a long-suffering sigh as the carriage slowed. “All it would take is a few, minor alterations to her existing wardrobe and the right undergarments, and her condition would hardly be noticeable at all.”
Alistair nodded, but he barely heard her. His gut roiled with the thought that Burbage was suspicious of his connection to Joe and that he was about to walk into the lion’s den because of it. Darren had seemed to find Joe’s presence at home suspicious as well, though God only knew why. As far as he knew, Alistair had never given his brother any reason to doubt his tastes. Although it was a blessing Beth was in the country with her friends again. His sister would pick up on the undercurrents between him and Joe much more quickly.
“She shouldn’t be in public at this point at all,” Lady Matilda went on as the carriage stopped in front of Eccles House. “She should be off in the country somewhere, enjoying her confinement, and leaving London to me.”
Alistair hummed, trying to drag himself out of his thoughts as he stepped down from the carriage and offered Lady Matilda a hand. There were more things on his mind than his relationship with Joe being discovered. Thursday was only a handful of days away. He couldn’t stomach the idea that the children who had gone missing might find themselves enduring a fate worse than death in such a short time. If Officer Wrexham wasn’t able to figure out the exact location of whatever exchange was about to happen, Alistair felt it was his duty to jump into action.
He offered his arm to Lady Matilda, who took it silently, thank God. It was only when they walked up the stairs and through the front door, held open by a smartly-dressed footman, that Alistair realized her silence was sharp disapproval.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” she asked once they were safely in the front hall and the footman took their coats.
“I’m not certain what to say,” he admitted.
Lady Matilda pursed her lips in irritation. “You could comment on my gown or the trouble I went through to style my hair this evening.”
Alistair blinked and looked at her, trying to notice the details she would want to have noticed. “You do look lovely,” he said. He could admit that objectively, though her diamonds would never be a match to the sparkle in Joe’s eyes when he smiled.
Lady Matilda tilted her head up and studied him with narrowed eyes. “Thank you,” she said, still not pleased. “You’re too quiet this evening.”
Alistair sent her what he hoped was an apologetic smile. “I have a great many things on my mind.” When she arched an eyebrow at him, he went on with, “That I wouldn’t want to trouble you with.”
She let out an impatient sigh as they started toward the parlor, where most of the other guests, including Darren, were already assembled. “If we are to continue forward in this partnership, you must learn to trust me with your concerns.”
Alistair glanced sideways at her. That wasn’t going to happen.
He was saved from having to say anything as Lord Chisolm came forward to greet them.
“Ah, there’s the shining couple of the moment,” he said, fawning over Lady Matilda in a way that made her cheeks pink with pleasure. “My dear, you look delightful this evening.”
“Thank you, Lord Chisolm,” Lady Matilda laughed playfully. “You’re such a flirt.” When Lord Chisolm turned to acknowledge a glance from his butler, who had just stepped into the doorway to announce supper, she muttered to Alistair, “You would do well to take lessons in flattery from Lord Chisolm.”
“Yes, of course,” Alistair mumbled back. “I’m terribly sorry.”
His feeble apology seemed to be enough for her. She tightened her grip on his arm, her expression softening, and said, “It’s all right. You can be trained.”
Alistair bristled inwardly at her condescending tone. Clearly, the woman thought she was miles above him, though God only knew why. It struck him that he must be feeling something akin to what Joe felt every time someone of Alistair’s class addressed him. No wonder Joe had flown off the handle with him at the hotel.
Alistair only had moments to greet the other guests before the lot of them headed into the dining room. He was grateful to be separated from Lady Matilda, though it meant he was seated next to a dowager countess who was infamous for her affairs and a timid ingénue who had only just come out and seemed overwhelmed by everything. Burbage was seated across the table from him. Alistair had a hard time deciding if that was a good or a bad thing.
“You seem awfully out of sorts this evening, my lord,” the dowager on Alistair’s right said to Burbage. “That is very out of character for you.”
“I had a bit of unpleasantness with staff this morning,” Burbage answered with a smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “I had to sack my valet.” His cold gaze snapped to Alistair. “Turns out he was a bloody sodomite.”
Several of the ladies sitting within earshot of Burbage gasped. The ingénue to Alistair’s left coughed so hard she had to reach for her serviette, then down a few large gulps of wine.
“Paul, there are ladies present,” Lord Chisolm grumbled from the head of the table.
“My sincerest apologies, Father.” Burbage nodded to his father, then met Alistair’s eyes again. “It’s just that I detest such perversion.”
The hair on the back of Alistair’s neck stood up. Burbage seemed to be daring him to agree or to contradict him. There was nothing Alistair could do but clear his throat, reach for his wine, and mutter, “Quite,” before taking a long swig.
When he set his wine glass down, Burbage was still staring at him, calculation in his eyes. Alistair stared back, feigning confusion over the look. Playing innocent was a defense mechanism, but at the moment, it was necessary. There were far bigger things at stake than revelations about his personal life, and he owed it to Joe to fight for those things.
“I understand you have just returned from a trip,” he began, still holding Burbage’s gaze. “Was your trip a success?”
Burbage’s mouth curved into a wry grin. “My business ventures are always a success, my lord,” he said.
“Congratulations.” Alistair nodded, fighting to keep his expression neutral as his mind scrambled for something to say that would trip Burbage into admitting his involvement with the missing children. The best he could come up with was, “What precisely are your business ventures?” It was feeble and far too obvious, so he rushed to add, “I am still not used to men of our situation engaging in business.”
“Yes, it is a modern development that I heartily disapprove of,” the dowager added. “Gentlemen of our class should confine themselves to government and leisure and leave business to the other classes.” She tilted her nose up and sniffed.
“I believe that not everyone’s financial situation allows for the same life of leisure it once did, my lady,” Alistair said.
Burbage laughed. “I have no problem with that. My financial situation is beyond sound.” He
reached for his wine. “No, my business speculations are purely for entertainment. One might call it a little pet project that has been in the family for generations.”
Alistair’s breath caught in his throat. Something about the statement struck him, struck a memory he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Burbage was a little too sly, a little too smarmy about the whole thing. But Alistair didn’t have a chance to press the man further. The next course was served, Burbage was pulled into conversation by the woman seated next to him, and the dowager on Alistair’s right launched into a discussion about the merits of a good marriage, all the while trying to wheedle a confession about his status with Lady Matilda out of him.
It was almost a relief when supper ended and the gentlemen retired to the billiard room for cigars and brandy.
“That Lady Carmichael is a bore,” Darren commented to Alistair as they walked over to fetch brandies, referring to the dowager. “I felt terribly sorry for you when I saw who you were seated with.”
“On the contrary,” Alistair answered with a shrug. “It meant I had very little work to do to maintain the conversation.”
Darren laughed and slapped his back.
“He’ll have even less work to do if he goes through with this mad plan to marry my sister-in-law,” Burbage said, striding over to join them, his usual haughty grin in place. “That is the plan, is it not?”
Alistair’s nerves bristled. There had to be a way to get Burbage to confess to his involvement with the missing children, even if obtusely. “That does seem to be the way things are headed,” he answered, standing taller as he faced Burbage.
“More’s the pity,” Burbage laughed, stepping past Alistair and Darren to help himself to brandy. “As your future brother-in-law, allow me to give you a piece of advice. The best way to navigate marriage to a Fairbanks woman is to keep your mouth shut and their legs spread.”
Alistair nearly choked on the brandy he was in the process of swallowing. “I beg your pardon?” he croaked.
Burbage took a drink, flickering one eyebrow rakishly as he did, then said, “Let Matilda do all the talking she wants, but when it’s just the two of you alone, fuck her hard and fuck her often, whether she wants it or not, to show her who’s lord of the manor. It also has the advantage of getting a shrew with child so they have something else to keep them quiet.”
Disgust poured through Alistair, leaving him speechless and, unfortunately, too shocked to formulate a way to get the information he needed from the man. It was enough to make him wonder if Burbage had deliberately shocked him to throw him off-balance.
“I say, that’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?” Darren asked with a nervous laugh.
“Not at all,” Burbage said with a shrug. “What is a woman for if not to please her husband and give him children?”
“Women are capable of a great deal more than that,” Alistair managed to say.
Burbage laughed. “Of course, you would say that,” he sneered.
A thread of panic joined the outrage pulsing through Alistair, but it was Darren who asked, “What is that supposed to mean?”
Burbage’s brow flew up and he grinned as though attending some sort of comedic entertainment. “You mean you don’t know about your dear brother?”
Sweat broke out on Alistair’s back. He was certain his face had flushed, but he prayed anyone looking at him, particularly Darren, would think it was anger.
“He’s as meek as a lamb,” Burbage went on with a laugh. “Everyone knows that he’s destined to be brow-beaten by whatever lady is unfortunate enough to marry him. Which appears to be my sister-in-law.”
Alistair couldn’t tell if Burbage was toying with him or if he truly didn’t know what he was. “Just because I treat women with respect and admiration doesn’t make me a lamb,” he said, assuming the best, but staying on his guard.
“We were raised to be better men than that,” Darren added, shifting to stand shoulder to shoulder with Alistair in solidarity.
Burbage huffed a laugh. “Raised by a lunatic.”
“You leave our father out of this,” Darren hissed.
Alistair rested a hand on his arm to stop him from attacking Burbage.
“Your father will be out of it permanently before too long,” Burbage sniffed, then took a long drink of brandy. When he finished, he set his tumbler carelessly on the table. “But enough of this feud. Our families are to be intimately joined soon. We should be friends.”
Alistair would rather have died than befriend Burbage, but he held his tongue.
Once again, Darren was the outspoken one. “A connection through marriage is hardly an intimate bond,” he said. “I see no need for our families to have anything to do with each other.”
“I suspect you see very little.” Burbage smirked.
“I’ve seen quite a bit,” Alistair said, narrowing his eyes at Burbage. If he was going to take a chance and call the man out, he had to get it over with. “Where have you been this past week?”
“My whereabouts are none of your concern,” Burbage snapped, tensing.
“Brighton, perhaps?” Alistair asked.
Dark wariness filled Burbage’s expression, but it was replaced within seconds by a snide grin that chilled Alistair’s blood. “Nowhere near the place,” Burbage answered, then rushed on with, “You wouldn’t happen to know of a competent valet looking for a position, would you? I’ve been caught in the lurch after being forced to dismiss that filthy sodomite this morning.” He crossed his arms and stared challengingly at Alistair.
“I wouldn’t know,” Alistair said, fighting to stay cool in spite of the sweat trickling down his back. He caught Darren staring at him out of the corner of his eye, a puzzled frown creasing his brow.
“Where did you find your valet?” Burbage asked on, an infernal light in his eyes as he glanced between Alistair and Darren before settling a vicious look on Alistair.
“I don’t have a valet,” Alistair answered.
Darren flinched but, blessedly, remained silent.
“I wager you will have soon,” Burbage laughed.
Alistair hated everything about the conversation. He hated the insinuations Burbage was making, the suspicion that clouded Darren’s expression, and worst of all, the fact that he was no closer to discovering where Burbage had been or what he had been up to than when he’d arrived. He was utterly on the back foot, and there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it.
Before he could scramble for a way to salvage the situation, the Eccles’s butler strode discreetly into the room and up to Burbage’s side. He whispered something in Burbage’s ear. For a split second, Burbage’s expression betrayed surprise and possibly annoyance.
“Dammit,” Burbage hissed as the butler leaned away from him. “Tell them I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Very good, my lord.” The butler bowed, backed up a few steps, then turned to leave the room.
“Gentlemen,” Burbage said, thumping Alistair’s arm, “it has been a pleasure crossing swords with you this evening, but if you will excuse me, a rather pressing engagement I had planned for later in the week seems to have been moved to this evening.” He nodded to Darren, sent Alistair a teasing smirk, then marched swiftly out of the room.
Alistair’s heart thundered against his ribs. He had no doubt at all that the engagement Burbage was referring to, the one that would take place that night instead of later in the week, was whatever exchange had been supposed to happen on Thursday night at the docks. Burbage’s contacts must have been alerted to the fact that someone was onto their game. Alistair had to reach Joe and tell him as soon as possible. He had to let David and Lionel know, and Officer Wrexham.
“Excuse me,” he hissed, attempting to step past Darren.
Darren caught his arm, holding him to the spot. “What in the devil is going on?” he asked in a tight, hushed voice.
Alistair hesitated, studying his brother’s frustrated expression. There simply wasn’t any way he could re
veal so much as a shred of what was really going on. “Burbage is up to no good,” he said. “I have reason to believe his business endeavors are criminal in nature. I’ve been working with some people to discover—”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Darren growled, staring so hard at Alistair that it felt as though knives were piercing him. “What is going on with that valet?”
It took everything Alistair had to continue to meet his brother’s eyes. “I can explain,” he said, bristling with anxious energy. “But not now.”
He tried again to leave, but Darren wouldn’t let go of his arm. “Alistair,” he said, his tone warning. “Are you—” The question was plain as day in his eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask it.
Alistair let out a breath, feeling as though the foundations of his life were crumbling. “There isn’t time to discuss it now. I have to act against Burbage and his plans while I still can.”
The two brothers stared at each other for a long, tense moment before Darren let out a breath and let go of Alistair’s arm. As soon as he did, Alistair shot forward, ignoring the attempts of the other men in the room to engage him in conversation as he marched through the room and into the hall. He had to find Joe and let him know what was going on. For more reasons than Burbage. The storm they had been hoping to avoid was about to break.
Chapter 17
The Bevan house was oddly quiet after the turmoil and rush of the offices of Dandie & Wirth and the manner in which Alistair had brought Joe home and left him there. Joe had helped Alistair dress for dinner as best he could, but once Alistair was gone, he couldn’t help but feel abandoned in a place where he knew no one and hadn’t been introduced. The footman had informed the butler and housekeeper of his hiring, but that didn’t stop the startled looks Joe got when he found his way downstairs to introduce himself to his new fellow staff members.
