His Lordship's Secret

by Samantha SoRelle

  Dominick had never been a graceful sleeper. In their childhood, Alfie had often been kept awake half the night by Dominick snoring directly into his ear. Dominick said it was in revenge for Alfie's icy feet keeping him awake the other half. Alfie shivered in pleasure at the thought of sharing a bed with him now, and out of curiosity leaned in. Sure enough, after a moment, he heard it. Not nearly as loud as when they were children and much deeper in tone, Dominick's soft snores sounded like a basset hound contented after a long day’s hunt.

  He got up as quietly as he could and added more logs to the fire. One slipped, making the embers hiss and snap, and when he turned around, Dominick was watching him through sleepy, half-lidded eyes.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you.” Alfie whispered. There was something in the air that required hushed voices and soft tones.

  “It’s fine,” Dominick rumbled, voice still heavy with sleep.

  “Are you hungry at all?”

  “No,” said Dominick, stretching his powerful arms high above his head. “Still full from luncheon. You?”

  “I’m the same.” Alfie sat back down in his chair. “You know that’s the thing I remember most about the workhouse? Not the fleas or the cold or that awful matron. I just remember always being hungry. It must have been worse for you, getting the same rations as me and being twice my size.”

  Dominick hummed and shifted in his chair.

  “It was hard,” he agreed. He paused, but seemed to come to a decision. “Both then and after.”

  Alfie turned to face him, but Dominick just stared resolutely into the fire.

  “Do you want to talk about any of it?”

  Dominick shrugged. “Not much to tell that you haven’t already guessed. I told you I stayed in the workhouse until I aged out, and then I was on the streets. No money, no food, no real skills. So I did what I had to do to survive. I stole, I fought, and when the choice was that or starve, I sold my body. There’s always a market for that.”

  A wave of pity swept through Alfie, followed by a wave of anger. That Dominick had been so badly abused by life yet still remained such a good man made him rage. Men like his cousin could drink and gamble and raise all sorts of hell and still be granted the utmost respect, but men like Dominick could do nothing but try to survive and were treated worse than dogs.

  “I was lucky though,” Dominick continued. “My friend Jimmy—you met him at the fight—he came into a little money and bought himself a pub. When things are real bad, he lets me sleep on the floor in there, or sweep up for a few pennies if he can spare them. He’d been through the workhouses too and remembers what it was like.”

  Dominick took a sip of his cold tea and made a face, but drank it anyway. “To be honest, I’m surprised you remember any of it, least of all me. I tried to forget that place as much as I could the moment I walked out those gates.”

  Alfie closed his eyes and cast his mind back. His memories of that time existed in flashes. Cold and hunger mostly, thundering machinery and backbreaking work, boredom in the rudimentary school lessons. There were good things too; the coloured illustrations in his favorite storybook, splitting a bag of stolen sweets with Dominick, going all together to the church each Sunday and singing the hymns before having the rest of the day free to play. Tucking up in bed each night with Dominick, the older boy wrapped around his back, spinning stories of far off places and magical adventures in Alfie's ear until he went to sleep.

  “I’m not sure how much of what I remember was real, and how much just my imagination.” Alfie admitted. He watched the flames eat at one of the logs until it split in half with a hiss.

  “I was never able to tell anyone about it, so my memories may be a bit confused. I do remember you though. I remember the wonderful stories you used to tell. You know, I had almost convinced myself that you weren’t real? That having such a-a good friend was just my wistful imagination. I was a very lonely here.”

  He reached for one of the biscuits on the tea tray, crumbling it between his fingers as he spoke. It didn’t hurt to admit that as much as it once did. “My parents weren’t cruel, understand. I think they may have even loved me in their own way, but they never really knew what to do with me once they had me.”

  Dominick made a small noise at that. Alfie risked a glance over. His friend had his lips pressed together in a look of distaste, but said nothing.

  “Will you tell me about that day?” Alfie asked.

  “What day?”

  “You know what day. The last day. I know you said you didn’t start the fight with Baz on purpose, but for years I thought you had. That day changed my life, so I’d like to know what other memories I have that are wrong.”

  Dominick didn’t respond immediately. Alfie tried to read his face but couldn’t. There was sadness there, unsurprisingly, but something else he couldn’t quite place. When Dominick spoke, there was a strange apprehension in his voice.

  “What do you remember?”

  “Only a little, it was all rather traumatizing for me at the time,” Alfie said slowly, confused by Dominick's reaction. “A man and woman in fancy clothes came to look at us all. We had to line up but you dragged me to the end of the line and made me tuck in my shirt and stand up straight. We all had to recite the alphabet and get tested on sums, then they let us out in the yard to play.”

  Alfie frowned, “Looking back, I suppose that was a test as well.”

  “It was,” Dominick whispered. “That’s why I raced you to the top of the woodpile, no one was better at climbing than we were.”

  “Then... you were gone somewhere and Baz was calling me names. He said he was going to go be rich and live with the fancy man and woman because he was the biggest and strongest. I think he punched me then, but the next thing I remember for certain, you came flying out of nowhere and tackled him into the mud.”

  That got a small smile out of Dominick, “He made a noise like a goat. Go on.”

  “Then all the adults were there, shaking their heads. I think the Governor said something to the...to my parents. Someone grabbed me. By the time I realised what was happening, I was already in their carriage on the way here.”

  Alfie exhaled. There was more he wanted to say, but he didn’t want to make Dominick uncomfortable.

  Hang it, he decided. If I can’t tell him how I really feel, I can at least tell him this much.

  “I cried for three days straight and couldn’t sleep for a week. I missed you, Dominick. I never even got to say goodbye. And I didn’t know where you were or how to find my way back. Finding you again now, it means more to me than I could ever say.”

  And that was true enough. He could never tell Dominick that these last few weeks had been the happiest of his life, or that each morning when Dominick walked into the breakfast room, Alfie fell a little bit more in love with him. And that every night, he fell asleep to thoughts of touching Dominick, kissing him, their bodies coming together in shared passion and joy.

  I love you, he thought, reaching over to place his hand atop Dominick’s. But aloud he said, “I’m so glad to have you back.”

  “And I you,” said Dominick, turning his hand so they faced palm to palm and curling his fingers around Alfie’s.

  Alfie's heart felt like it had turned into a flock of birds, swooping and soaring all about the room. To an outsider, it might have just looked like two old friends sharing a moment of companionship and connection, but it felt so much more profound than just that. Even if Dominick left him tomorrow, Alfie knew he would remember this for the rest of his life.

  But he wouldn’t let thoughts like that darken his mood. He’d worry about Dominick leaving when it happened. No reason to let it spoil this moment.

  “Well?” He finally asked. “How did I do?”

  Dominick let go of Alfie's hand gently. He picked up another biscuit off the tray and put it in Alfie's upturned palm. Alfie laughed and gathered the crumbs of the biscuit he had crumbled to pieces, tipping them delicately onto his saucer.
r />   “You got most of it. They made you sing too, when we were all lined up. But you did that all the time anyway so I’m not surprised you don’t remember. A little wren you were back then, always chirping and warbling.”

  Dominick grinned at the memory and Alfie blushed, looking for a way to change the subject.

  “What about Baz the Badger?”

  “What about him?”

  “The night we met, you said he still blamed me for being chosen instead of him. I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if he had. I don’t think I would have lived very long on the streets in his place, but I can’t help but wonder how he would have fared in mine.”

  “Well…” Dominick seemed to think about it. Alfie offered him a biscuit to help the thought process and he took it with a nod.

  “If your parents wanted someone better than your cousin, they couldn’t have made a worse choice than Baz. He’s still a cheat and a bully and I think money and power would have only made him worse. He likes knives now, would happily stick a man as soon as look at him. I don’t know how that would translate if he was an earl. You lot like your duels, don’t you? So maybe he’d be good at that, although I don't think he has any honor to challenge.”

  “What about looks?” Alfie thought about the portrait of his parents in the front hall. “I grew into my father’s height and then some, so they stopped complaining about that, but I never did look as much like them as they wanted.” He tugged at a short lock of his hair. “My eyes were acceptable at least, but they always regretted this colour. And my nose was never quite right either.”

  “Well, let’s see. He’s barely grown since you knew him so they would have been sorely disappointed there. For the rest? You know those white, long haired puppies all the society ladies coo over? The ones that never stop yapping?

  Alfie nodded, he was well acquainted with the hateful creatures, the dogs and their owners both.

  “And how sometimes, the ladies get tired of all the noise giving them a headache and dump the poor beasts in the gutter? And they turn feral and get those nasty yellow coats that’re all greasy and mangy?”

  Alfie nodded again.

  “Well, that’s what Baz the Badger grew into. Frankly Alfie, not to speak ill of the dead, but if your parents told you they’d have preferred a cruel, nasty child like that to a sweet little songbird like you just because your hair was too red and you hadn’t grown yet? Then they were the damnedest of fools, and are very lucky they are not still around for me to tell them exactly what I think of them calling you their second choice.”

  He paused, “God rest their souls.”

  Alfie couldn’t help but chuckle. It didn’t hurt quite so much to think of them being gone any more. They had been his parents, but he was starting to realise that they had never really been his family.

  “Is there anything else I’m missing about that day? Aside from my parents nearly making a terrible mistake instead?”

  Alfie meant it as a jest, but Dominick froze, just a fraction. Just long enough for Alfie to think there might actually be something.

  “Dominick?”

  “No, nothing,” Dominick snapped. “Or I don’t know. It was a long time ago, Alfie. You can’t expect me to remember every second of it. I wasn’t the one who ended the day in a fancy mansion, remember? It gets mixed in with a lot of other miserable days.”

  Alfie couldn’t help the hurt, it felt like Dominick was keeping something from him. But he was right. That day had given Alfie a new life filled with every comfort and opportunity, not Dominick. He shouldn’t be the one getting all maudlin. What was a little loneliness compared to the things Dominick had endured?

  “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.

  “No, I’m sorry,” Dominick replied with a sigh, sinking further into his chair. “You have a right to ask about your past. I shouldn’t be such a bear about it. I’ve just been worried that we haven’t been doing enough to catch your blackmailer and it’s wearing on me.”

  Alfie felt like he still owed Dominick more of an apology, but if his friend was going to be gentlemanly enough to change the topic, he could follow suit.

  “Do you have any ideas?”

  “I might, but you’re not going to like it.”

  “I can hardly like it less than I like someone trying to kill me.”

  “Fair enough.” Dominick grinned wolfishly. “How do you feel about housebreaking?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “That’s what it’s called when you break into someone’s house.”

  “I know what it means!” Alfie exclaimed. “And how exactly does us committing a felony help?”

  “Ah well, I’d be the only one committing a felony. You’d be tucked up safe in your bed at the time.”

  Dominick tilted his head. “Although I will need some information from you on the house. And I suppose providing that information, when you know what I’m going to do with it, does count as a crime. Not that you need to worry a single curl on your head about it, they’d never arrest an earl for something like that.”

  Alfie reached up self-consciously and patted his hair. Damn. The rain must have undone all his careful arranging. And then he’d fallen asleep in his chair with it still wet? Even as short as it was, he could feel curls and tufts sticking out all over his head. He must look an absolute fright. Wonderful.

  “And whose house do you need to break into anyway?”

  Dominick gave a pleased little smirk. Alfie dropped his hands from his hair, caught in the act, but that only made Dominick smile wider.

  “Your cousin’s.”

  Alfie opened his mouth to protest, then paused. He knew intellectually that his cousin was the only person who made sense. It still hurt to think that he could be behind all of this, but he was one of the few people close enough to Alfie to have possibly guessed his secret, and if Alfie died, the estate and title would go immediately to him. He’d have plenty of money to waste in whatever gambling hell he favored.

  For a few months at least. Then he would start raising his tenants' rents to cover his debts, or selling off parcels of the earldom one at a time until nothing was left, and all of the people who trusted Alfie to manage the land they worked would be homeless and starving. Killing Alfie might be a fast way into wealth for his cousin, but Reginald would lose it just as quickly.

  He considered Dominick's logic.

  “You want to see if you can find any of that special paper there.”

  Dominick nodded. “And see if there’s anything else to find. Plans, maybe a payment note for whoever actually wrote the letters. Like you said, he probably wouldn’t try to shoot you himself, so I’d wager there’s someone else doing his dirty work. If we can find proof of that, then maybe we can turn one against the other. I imagine that the threat of deportation or hanging would probably get the whole story out.”

  “And what if you don’t find any evidence?”

  “Do you think your cousin is careful enough to plan something like this and not leave proof?” asked Dominick immediately. He must have already put quite a deal of thought into this plan before bringing it up.

  “No,” Alfie answered honestly. “He’s not nearly that clever. He was nearly challenged to a duel once, because he stupidly decided to comment on a lady’s rather unfortunate appearance without checking to see if her husband was standing directly behind him at the time. I think he’s more likely to have left a note saying ‘Pay Alfie's killer twenty quid’ directly on top of his desk. That is, assuming he is the one behind it.”

  “Assuming he is,” Dominick agreed. “And if it helps at all, I wouldn’t kill you for less than thirty quid, at least.”

  “That does help, thank you. But if you would please not inform Mrs. Hirkins of your price, I would appreciate it. I know she has savings.”

  Dominick clapped his hands. “It’s settled then. You give me the lay of the house, maybe invite him over for dinner to be sure he’s out. I’ll break in, have a look around. If I find
anything, we can confront him or go to a magistrate, whichever you’d prefer. And if I don’t, we assume he’s not the one as wants you dead, and start over.”

  “A good plan,” Alfie agreed. “There’s only one problem.”

  Dominick's face twisted in confusion. “What’s that?”

  “There’s no way this side of hell I’m letting you take a risk like that for me.” He held up a hand before Dominick could protest. “Consider: If you’re caught in Reginald’s house, what do you think happens?”

  “I dance the hempen jig.”

  “Exactly. Whereas if I’m caught?”

  Dominick scratched his chin. “I suppose you say it was some sort of prank, and the constable gets reprimanded for bothering you.”

  “Exactly. Besides which, I have quite a bit of experience with a gentleman’s papers and will be able to spot anything out of the ordinary much more quickly. Which is why I will be breaking into my cousin’s house instead.”

  The words sounded even more mad aloud than they had in his head.

  “Ah, of course. They teach you locking-picking in Cambridge then? Or how to break a window without making a sound? Or to tell the footsteps of a vagrant in the street from those of a runner come to nab you?”

  “Fine. We’ll go together. But if anything happens, it was all my idea, understood?”

  “Understood.” Dominick smiled, and stuck out his hand like they had just agreed to some sort of business proposition, instead of breaking and entering with a possible side of burglary. Alfie shook it anyway, not willing to miss an opportunity to touch Dominick, however fleetingly. The moment was ruined when Dominick let out a jaw cracking yawn that set Alfie yawning as well.

  “I guess that’s off to bed with me then,” Dominick said. “No use sleeping in a chair when there’s a good mattress waiting. You should rest too. Busy day tomorrow, and thievery is a lot more tiring than people think.”