by Merry Farmer
“Open up, love,” he said with a flicker of one eyebrow, bringing the toast to Patrick’s lips. “With me, you’ll never go hungry again. I will satisfy all of your appetites.”
Patrick laughed. The reaction was as powerful and as unfettered as his tears. He let Everett feed him a bite of toast, his heart so light it could cause the sun to rise, before shaking his head and nudging Everett away.
“I’m not going to let you feed me breakfast like I’m a baby,” he said, reaching for one of the forks on the tray.
“Then you will leave me in a state of utter disappointment,” Everett said with a look of mock offense. “But I will be consoled as long as you share your feast with me.”
“I would share everything with you,” Patrick said from the bottom of his heart.
“What an intriguing statement.” Everett eyed him with a look of hunger that went beyond the delicacies on the tray between them.
They ate the incomparable breakfast together, chatting about inconsequential things as they did. Everett insisted on feeding Patrick a few bites of what he considered particularly tasty, and Patrick let him. It was as delightful to indulge Everett’s whims as it was to have his own needs satisfied. Although, there was something to be said for satisfaction. As soon as breakfast was finished, Everett set the tray aside, threw off his robe, and straddled Patrick as he nestled back against the pillows in a delightful state of fullness.
Everett had only just begun to kiss him madly while reaching between them to stroke his hardening prick when there was a knock at the door.
Everett hissed a curse, slumping, his forehead resting against Patrick’s. “Just as I was about to treat you to dessert.”
The knock sounded again.
“Perhaps it’s only the hotel staff asking for their tray back,” Patrick suggested.
Everett hummed as he climbed off the bed. “There’s only one staff I’m interested in at the moment.” He glanced pointedly to Patrick’s cock, then bent to retrieve his robe.
Patrick listened to Everett cross through the suite’s main room to answer the door, then sighed with disappointment at the sound of Cristofori’s voice.
“It’s already ten o’clock. Blake has been waiting downstairs for the two of you for fifteen minutes.”
Patrick swore and climbed out of bed. Dessert would have to wait for later. Once again, he’d let the delicious distraction of Everett sidetrack him from the mission that formed the entire basis for their being together. There was no time for him to indulge in a sexual awakening—or even a new discovery of love—when helpless children’s lives were at stake.
By the time Everett returned to the bedroom, Patrick was already halfway through washing in the basin that sat in the far corner of the room.
“I suppose it was a dream we had to wake from eventually,” Everett said with a maudlin sigh. His eyes continued to shine with affection and mischief, though.
“Another day,” Patrick said. “Once Chisolm and the others are rotting in prison, as they deserve to be.”
It was as though Patrick had blown out a candle. Every bit of happiness vanished from Everett’s expression. He moved through washing and dressing like a man who had just been reminded he was on his way to the gallows. Patrick did his best to stay close to Everett’s side as they dressed and shaved and prepared for what was bound to be a difficult day.
“We’ll make this as brief as possible,” he said as they descended the stairs, on their way to meet Cristofori and Selby in the hotel lobby. “I’ll take the first opportunity to slip off into the house to search for the evidence we need against those men.” He deliberately didn’t use Chisolm’s name. “Remember, you are London’s most brilliant actor. Your character is a man who is not under that villain’s sway.”
They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Patrick paused, grabbing Everett’s shoulders and turning him to face him.
“He does not control you, Everett. You told me yourself last night. You took back control of your life from him.” He paused, jealousy still licking like flames in his gut, even though he understood so many more things now. “The lovers you’ve had, they were your way of claiming yourself. You have nothing left to prove. The lover you have now is all that matters, and he could break Chisolm’s neck with a single twist if he wanted to.” He held Everett’s gaze with deadly seriousness.
Everett nodded, though Patrick could see it would take a great deal more time and work for Everett to believe everything he had just said.
Neither of them said more as they crossed the lobby to meet Cristofori and Selby. Selby was full of his usual, overly-cheerful greetings. He expressed his regrets that Cristofori and the others hadn’t stayed with him during the night as they made their way out to his carriage and started off to Castleford Estate. The more Selby nattered on, though, the more Patrick had a sense that something had gone wrong for the man.
“Annamarie was furious, I can tell you that much,” he said, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve and not quite looking at Cristofori as the carriage jostled on. “She accused me of all manner of things by hiding you from her.” He peeked up at Cristofori. “I didn’t know what to say in the face of her fury.”
Patrick arched an eyebrow at Everett, who returned the look subtly. He had a feeling they’d stumbled into someone else’s story, a story that might be on the verge of a boiling point. There wasn’t time to inquire about it, and if Patrick were honest, he wanted nothing to do with what was clearly a wealth of unresolved emotions between Niall and his duke. He had far more pressing things to concern himself with as Selby’s carriage pulled up to the terrace at the front of Castleford’s house.
“Remember,” Patrick whispered to Everett as they alighted and were greeted by Castleford’s butler. “He does not have power over you. You are a brilliant actor who can distract the lot of them for as long as you need to. We’re doing this for the children, so not another soul has to go through what you went through. We will beat them.”
“God above, I love you,” Everett groaned quietly, squeezing Patrick’s hand for the briefest of moments before striding forward to enter the house by Cristofori’s side.
Patrick froze, eyes wide and stunned, watching Everett’s back as the others entered the house. Everett loved him? He’d thought that was a dream. It couldn’t possibly be true. But if it was, Patrick had even more of a responsibility than ever to bring down the man who had hurt his love so much.
“Ah, brother of mine, I see you’ve brought your friends back.” Castleford met them in the conservatory they’d passed through the day before on their way to the garden and the menagerie. Chisolm and Eastleigh were there as well, dressed in tweed and examining several hunting rifles with the help of a few of Castleford’s footmen. Patrick hung back as much as he could to observe the proceedings without bringing attention to himself.
“We never would have passed up an opportunity to spend time in such august company,” Everett said with all the gusto he used to greet his admirers at the stage door.
“I’m happy to see you so enthusiastic, Jewel.” Chisolm broke away from the footman he was working with to stride up to Everett’s side. He thumped Everett’s shoulder. “You’ll be my shooting partner this afternoon.”
Patrick balled his hands into fists, wishing for the opportunity to snap Chisolm’s neck the way he’d told Everett he could. His deeper concern was for Everett, though. Some of the color had drained from Everett’s face, but he continued to smile. Patrick swelled with pride in him, even as he boiled with fury at Chisolm.
“Will you be needing me while you shoot, sir?” he asked, stepping up to Everett’s side. The gesture was intended to underscore his role as Everett’s bodyguard, but he wanted to look Chisolm in the eyes and dare him to lay a finger on what was his.
Chisolm sneered at Patrick. “Quite a determined bulldog, isn’t he?” He glanced down his nose at Patrick. Whether he understood the true nature of Patrick and Everett’s relationship or not, he clearly consid
ered Patrick so far beneath his notice as to be laughable.
Which was exactly what they needed to further the investigation, even if it infuriated Patrick even more.
“I think I should stay with you, sir,” Patrick went on. It was a gamble, but the more he gave the impression of wanting to stay glued to Everett’s side—which was, in fact, what he would rather have done in every way—the less suspicious the gentlemen would be when he disappeared.
“We don’t need supervision, do we, Jewel?” Chisolm asked, turning his back on Patrick.
Everett met Patrick’s eyes. More than a hint of panic flashed in their violet-blue depths, but with it was understanding. Everett knew what Patrick was up to.
“Why don’t you take a rest and enjoy yourself, Wrexham,” he said, feigning ease. “There won’t be anything for you to do on a shooting trip anyhow.”
“Yes, sir.” Patrick didn’t have to fake resentment as he took a step back. He glared at Chisolm, but the man didn’t see him. He was too busy glancing Everett over, as though he were a slice of cake Chisolm intended to devour. It was all Patrick could do to remind himself of why he was really there.
“Gentlemen, shall we go out to the shooting range?” Castleford asked as he crossed the room, heading out the open French doors.
The gentlemen followed him. Everett sent Patrick one last look over his shoulder. Patrick nodded reassuringly, but his insides roiled. He stood where he was for a moment, waiting to see whether anyone would acknowledge him or whether he’d just been abandoned to the house.
“If you will come with me, sir,” the butler, Norris, said in a dry tone from the door leading to the hallway. “I’ll show you to the servants’ hall below-stairs where you can wait for your master.”
Patrick hid his disappointment with a stony nod. He followed Norris through the house, observing everything he passed and searching for ways he could leave whatever waited for him in the servants’ hall as quickly as possible.
It was a stroke of luck that few of Castleford Estate’s servants were in the servants’ hall and those who were seemed far too busy to pay him any mind. Patrick fell back on his ability to blend into the background, sitting quietly in the hall and pretending to find a book someone had left on the long dining table interesting. Once he was certain not a soul was paying the slightest bit of attention to him, he set the book down and quietly walked out of the room and up the narrow back stairway to the main part of the house.
The house itself was quiet. Whatever duties the servants were about, they weren’t anywhere to be seen. That set Patrick’s nerves on edge. The house had a sinister feel to it. He’d felt it the moment they’d arrived the day before. It had sorrow in its walls and villainy in the floorboards. As he passed carefully from room to room, barely making a sound as he walked, he was certain that it wasn’t a matter of if he would find some sort of incriminating evidence against Castleford, but when.
His search took longer than he anticipated. The huge house had more rooms than he would have guessed from the outside. Most of the rooms were impeccably tidy, as if they were rarely used. The furnishings were all dark and gothic. Several had taxidermied animals of all descriptions posed in ferocious positions. Each unfortunate creature gave Patrick chills. There was no doubt in his mind that they had all lived in the cages of the menagerie at one point or another. It made him wonder how long it would be before Leo joined the others.
At that thought, Patrick reached instinctively for his pouch of food. He’d filled it with the remnants of the breakfast Everett had brought him that morning. Heat flooded his face and guilt curled in his gut at the force of need he felt for the scraps in his pouch. After everything that had passed between him and Everett, after the care Everett had shown, in spite of the fact that his mind was convinced he would never go hungry again, his instincts couldn’t let go of that pouch.
He was teetering on the verge of letting those thoughts take over when he stepped into a dark office adjacent to a parlor containing several hairy, stuffed boars. The room was as tidy as every other in the house, but it had a used feeling to it. The curtains were closed, leaving it shadowy and menacing. Patrick knew he’d found the right place.
He strode into the room, pulling open the curtains on one window to let just enough light into the room for his investigation. He would have to work fast and leave no stone unturned or cabinet unlocked if he was going to find the concrete evidence he needed to bring Chisolm and the others to justice.
Or so he thought.
Lying in the center of the desk, open to the most recently-used page, was a ledger containing names, dates, locations, and prices. Patrick’s eyes went wide at the sight of it. Every row and every column of the ledger was neat and precise, as if whoever wrote it was maniacally organized. Patrick guessed what it was in an instant, but it wasn’t until he spotted Lily Logan’s several pages back along with columns reading “London”, “September 4th, 1889”, “Leicester”, and “£5” that he was certain. His stomach squeezed at the sheer volume of names and the prices they’d all been sold for. Worst of all, the most recent names had only been entered the day before.
“What are you doing in here?”
Patrick jerked straight and slammed the ledger shut as Selby’s voice cut through his thoughts. Of all the men who could have caught him red-handed, Selby was not the one he would have expected.
“My lord.” He bowed tightly. “Rest assured that I am here with the full authority of Scotland Yard, conducting a police investigation.”
“Police investigation?” Selby stepped farther into the room, his brow knit in confusion. “What sort of a police investigation?”
Patrick narrowed his eyes as he studied the man. He wasn’t half as chipper on his own as he had been in Cristofori’s company. He had dark circles under his eyes and the air of a man who was so defeated by life that he didn’t know how to fight back anymore. Patrick knew the look well. Until he’d met Everett, he was sure he looked the same way.
With an unexpected wave of compassion, he stepped around the desk, approaching Selby. “I regret to inform you, my lord, but your brother, Lord Castleford, along with Lord Chisolm and Lord Eastleigh, is at the center of an investigation into a child kidnapping ring.”
Shock pulled Selby’s features tight. “Child kidnapping?”
Patrick nodded. “I’ve just found what I believe to be irrefutable evidence proving his involvement. I’m certain that this room contains all manner of proof.” He paused, pitying the way Selby gaped and glanced around, as though faced with a horror that he didn’t want to see. “Hundreds of children have been kidnapped over the course of several years and sold into slavery of the worst sort.”
“No.” Selby shook his head. “It couldn’t possibly be. Montague would never—” He paused, swallowing hard, a sickly pallor coming to his face. He met Patrick’s eyes with the look of a man who knew the truth, but couldn’t comprehend it. “I would have noticed,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I would have seen something, done something. I…I would never have allowed evil like that to continue in my family, would I?” His question was fraught and painful.
“I am sorry, my lord.” Patrick truly did feel sorry for him, but the longer they stood there, the more anxious he grew. There wasn’t time for a duke to test his conscience when children’s lives were at stake. He needed to gather as much evidence as he could to take to David and Lionel. They needed an iron-clad case if they were going to bring down three peers. They needed—
He blinked, inspiration striking. “My lord.” He took a step closer to Selby. “We may need your help with this case. The sharpest difficulty we face right now is bringing accusations like this against members of the nobility. We can provide all the evidence in the world, but what we will need, ultimately, is a high-ranking member of the nobility to testify against the men who are at the center of this ring if the case goes to the House of Lords, which it inevitably will.”
Selby continued to gape vacantly for a momen
t before snapping his mouth shut and focusing on Patrick. “You want me to testify against my brother to the House of Lords on a matter of child kidnapping?”
Before Patrick could answer or explain, Castleford’s voice sounded from the parlor. “Blake, dammit, where have you gone? I only sent you in to find Ross, and now—” Castleford stopped just inside the doorway to the office. His eyes narrowed bitterly as he glanced from Selby to Patrick. “What is the meaning of this?”
A thousand excuses shot through Patrick’s mind, but before he could voice any of them, Selby said, “This man is trying to tell me that you are involved in a child kidnapping ring. Montague, is that true?”
Patrick could have screamed in frustration. One glance from Castleford, and he knew the game was over. Castleford’s expression said that he comprehended everything in an instant, from Patrick’s purpose in the office to their sudden arrival the day before.
“Of course, that’s not true,” Castleford said with a vicious, toothy smile. “Whyever would you believe something like that? Come along, now. We’re waiting for you outside.” He grabbed Selby’s arm and dragged him out of the room. “You too, Wrexham. I think it was unwise of Mr. Jewel to go off shooting without you after all.”
Patrick said nothing as he followed. There was nothing he could say and nothing he could do. He glared at Selby as they made their way through the house and out through the garden to the shooting range. The only possible bright spot in the disaster happening all around him was that Selby eyed his brother as though considering whether the accusations could be true. The veil of congeniality that Selby had so deliberately wrapped himself in was clearly torn, proving that the man wasn’t as stupid as Patrick had thought he was. He might just break and see the truth, and if he did, he might just act on it. But that did nothing to help the cause now.
They reached the shooting range within minutes. Everett was watching Chisolm take a shot at a target while Niall stared blankly at Lord Eastleigh. Everett’s bitter smile dropped the second he spotted Patrick.
