His Lordship's Secret

by Samantha SoRelle

  There was no good in trying to reason with the doctor. A man so obsessed he would see “malignant despondency” in an orphaned son mourning his mother would never see that he had been wrong. Alfie’s father hadn’t been a madman for taking his chance to leave the stifling society of London behind to see the world, he’d been an adventurer. And his mother hadn’t been corrupted by his father, she’d been liberated. If anything was melancholy, it was not the tarnishing of their reputations, but the constraints they faced upon their return to London, wearing them down until there was nothing left.

  Alfie had been lost and alone since their passing. But he understood now what they had felt. If he fell to a gunshot tonight, at least he would die with the memory of the last few weeks with Dominick, which had been the grandest adventure of his life.

  But if Doctor Barlowe was going to kill him, Alfie was going to do everything he could to drag the bastard down with him.

  He walked past Doctor Barlowe without waiting for his response. If he could only get him away from Dominick. Maybe Alfie could find something in the study to disarm him, a heavy figurine or a poker. He cursed the sword cane lying useless in the front hall below.

  “I suppose we could try the poison again. I assume that’s what you used on my father. Although that might prove suspicious. Perhaps I could be crushed by a bookcase while reaching for a tome of improving works? Or would that be too farcical?”

  He looked back through the open doorway. The doctor hesitated for just a second and then followed, turning his affable smile on Alfie.

  That second was all Dominick needed. With a roar he leapt at Doctor Barlowe, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him back. There was the sound of an explosion, and Alfie’s legs went out from under him.

  A moment later, the blinding pain struck. He howled and clutched his left leg, the fine material of his trousers was already turning red. There was a perfect hole in the fabric. He stared at it—uncomprehending—while the noise of a scuffle registered dimly in the background. Finally understanding made it through the fog of his pain-addled mind. He’d felt this pain before.

  I’ve been shot.

  He heaved as a fresh wave of agony hit him, the wound throbbing with every beat of his heart. He reached blindly for his cravat to stem the flow of blood, but there was nothing there. He’d already used it to tend to Dominick and no mere handkerchief would stop this. If he did not get help from a real doctor, and soon, Doctor Barlowe would have his wish. Alfie would die before having the chance to besmirch his mother’s name any more than he already had by being a gutter rat and a sodomite.

  He twisted onto his stomach and began dragging himself towards the doorway. In the hall, he could see Dominick and the doctor struggling. The lamp had been knocked to the floor and the rug was beginning to smoke and smolder. Alfie inched his way closer as quickly as he could bear. The two men were grappling at the top of the landing, the railing creaking under their combined weight.

  “Dominick!” Alfie yelled.

  His warning came too late. Doctor Barlowe heaved, and he and Dominick crashed backwards through the banister and fell from sight.

  Alfie screamed Dominick’s name again and crawled towards the landing, afraid of what he would see broken upon the marble floor below. Then he saw it. A hand, big and bloody, clinging to the bottom of the broken banister.

  Alfie sobbed in relief. He wrapped his hands around Dominick’s wrist. “I’ve got you! I’ve got you!”

  Dominick let out a choked noise. Alfie dared peer over edge. Dominick clung by his injured arm, his shoulder bleeding freely and the strength visibly draining from him with every moment. His other hand clutched his throat where Doctor Barlowe clung to him, his arms locked tight around Dominick’s neck and eyes mad with fear.

  There was no time to think. Alfie grabbed the closest thing he could reach and threw.

  Dominick ducked his head just in time. The lamp struck Doctor Barlowe directly in the face, shattering immediately. There was a rush of sound as the oil inside caught, engulfing his head in a ball of flame. He shrieked and let go of Dominick, beating furiously at his face as he fell. The noise was more animal than man, a high quavering wail that stopped abruptly with a sickening thud. If Alfie survived, he would hear that sound in his nightmares for the rest of his life. But there was no time to think about that now.

  Dominick grabbed the landing with his other hand.

  Alfie gripped his wrists again. Dominick looked up, terror writ large across his face.

  “I’ve got you,” Alfie said, looking deeply into those eyes he so loved. “On three. One. Two. Three!”

  For just a moment, he felt himself being dragged forward by Dominick’s weight and he thought they were both going to go over. But he kept pulling, and just when it seemed he was about to lose his balance and they would both fall to their deaths, Dominick got one elbow on the landing, then the other. Alfie grabbed the back of his coat and slowly, painfully, they pulled him up. Dominick collapsed on top of him, panting heavily, but alive. Alfie wrapped his arms around him, and buried his face in Dominick’s neck. He stank of sweat and blood, but Alfie had never smelled anything sweeter than his love still breathing in his arms.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” croaked Dominick. “I’m not taking you on any adventures. I’ve had my fill already.”

  Alfie laughed, and kissed him. Dominick ran his fingers through Alfie’s hair and gripped tightly, his fingers trembling against Alfie’s scalp.

  Too soon, they broke apart. Alfie noticed another smell in the air. Smoke.

  “We have to go.”

  “Wait,” Dominick said. He ducked down and kissed Alfie once more. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” Alfie knew why Dominick wanted to say it again now. Just in case. “I’m not sure I can make it down the stairs on my own, please don’t leave me.”

  Dominick gave him one more kiss. “Never.”

  ✽✽✽

  Together they made it down the stairs, clinging to each other all the while and coughing as thick black smoke rose around them. The front hall rug was completely ablaze. At the center of the inferno was a large lump consumed by fire that Alfie refused to look at too closely. The painting of his parents was the next to catch as flames rushed up the walls. For a moment, the fire imbued their eyes with a living light, and then they were gone. Alfie’s eyes stung as the air filled with ash and hot embers.

  They crawled on hands and knees. Through the smoke, Alfie saw the outline of the front door just ahead of him, but Dominick tugged his sleeve.

  “Drawing room,” he coughed. “Mrs. Hirkins.”

  Alfie nodded and together, they turned into the drawing room. The fire hadn’t reached it yet, thank God, but the air was almost too hot to breathe. Mercifully, Doctor Barlowe hadn’t tried to hide Mrs. Hirkins’ unconscious body, just left her where she had fallen. Alfie took a quick moment to strip off his coat and drape it over her face to protect her from the heat and debris. Without a word, he and Dominick each grabbed an arm and pulled, dragging her with them towards the outline of a front door now completely obscured by smoke.

  Somehow, between them they got the door open and emerged into the cool spring night. Alfie swooned as his lungs filled with fresh air.

  They survived.

  ✽✽✽

  The next thing he knew, he felt cool grass tickling the backs of his ears. Alfie leaned up on his elbows.

  He was lying on the grass in the park square while liveried footmen and nightgown-clad neighbours dashed about raising the alarm and throwing buckets of water where they could. There was a length of cloth—perhaps a sheet or kitchen towel—wound tightly around his injured leg and to his left, a gaggle of maids wrapped in robes were fussing over Mrs. Hirkins. Her chest was rising and falling steadily and the maids seemed to have things well in hand, so he didn’t let himself worry.

  And to his right? To his right, Dominick was sitting upright and so close that Alfie’s shoulder brushed against his
thigh. He looked down at Alfie with clear worry. The parts of his face that weren’t covered in blood were black with soot, and his clothes weren’t even fit for the rag pile. His shirt gaped open, and against the drying blood, the ring on its cord dully reflected the light of the flames.

  “You look a mess,” Alfie croaked.

  “You’re one to talk,” Dominick replied in a voice just as raspy. A furrow creased his brow. “Alfie, I’m so sorry. Your home… I don’t think they’re going to be able to save it.”

  Alfie looked. Flames were pouring out of the first floor windows already, and as he watched, there was the sound of glass cracking as tongues of fire licked out of the second floor ones as well. He had lived in that house for the last thirteen years. Had grown to manhood there. Had learned all the rules of this strange new world he had been thrust into. Had lived with a mother and father and servants. And one day, a wonderful man came to stay, who made him laugh, and who loved Alfie just as much as Alfie loved him.

  And that was home.

  He slowly sat up and looked Dominick in the eyes, trying to express all he felt and more. Dominick smiled and carefully bumped his bandaged shoulder against him.

  As the smoke and wails of the fire wagons filled the air, they leaned against each other and watched the past burn.

  Epilogue

  June 1818

  Dominick bit back a curse as the carriage hit another rut in the road and jostled his remaining injuries. The doctor—the new doctor—who’d looked them over after the fire had done a fine job patching him up, but it would take more than a few weeks for him to heal completely. Another bounce made him inhale sharply and set off a fit of coughing which hurt even more.

  “Here.”

  A hand ran soothingly up and down his thigh as he continued to cough, and when he finally opened his watering eyes, he could just about make out Alfie leaning across the carriage and offering him his handkerchief. His throat would heal from breathing in too much smoke in time, as would the rest of him. Aside from some interesting new scars, the doctor claimed in a few months Dominick would barely remember what happened.

  He doubted that. If his own nightmares weren’t enough, more than once he had been woken in the night by Alfie’s, his love crying out at the remembered horrors of that day and haunted by the faces of the men he’d been forced to kill.

  Dominick would wake him then, secure in the privacy of the set of rooms they rented while everything was sorted out. He’d hold Alfie until he went back to sleep, then watch over him as long as he could to ensure the dreams would not trouble him again. If Alfie allowed it, Dominick planned to watch over him for many years to come.

  “Feeling better?” Alfie asked, giving his knee a squeeze.

  “Aye.” Dominick handed back the handkerchief, leaning over so Alfie wouldn’t have to move as much. His injured leg was propped up on the seat next to Dominick.

  The doctor had not wanted Alfie to make such a journey while he was still recovering and Dominick agreed, but Alfie claimed to be sick of London and that the fresh air would do him good. Dominick bemoaned his plight at loving such an obstinate man, but Alfie remained unmoved. He could still put very little weight on his leg and required a cane for more than just protection now, but Dominick made sure that the one he picked to replace the cane destroyed in the fire along with everything else also had a blade concealed within. Just in case.

  He watched as Alfie folded the handkerchief neatly and tucked it into the jacket that lay next to him on the seat. There was no need for formality. They were the only two in the carriage after all, and Alfie had told him they’d want to be as comfortable as possible for the long ride ahead.

  Dominick readily accepted his judgment in this, especially if it meant he’d get to spend the day looking at Alfie in little more than his shirtsleeves. Perhaps if the day grew too warm Dominick could convince him that there was really no need for waistcoats either, and cravats were such a nuisance, and did a shirt really need to be buttoned that high…

  “Stop that.” Alfie began to dig around in a bag beside the jacket without even looking at Dominick.

  “Stop what? I’m not doing anything.”

  “You’re thinking very loudly. And they are not thoughts that belong in public.”

  “It’s a private carriage,” Dominick argued.

  “A private carriage on a public road with a public driver sitting only a very thin partition away.”

  “I can be quiet.”

  The look that Alfie shot him doubted that very much, and already disapproved of whatever clever quip Dominick thought he was going to make next. Dominick just smiled and leaned back in his seat.

  Alfie had said the trip to Scotland would take a week at least, more likely two. He had time. Maybe time to talk too. They hadn’t done much of that since the fire. Alfie had been too busy dealing with the insurance and paperwork and everything else that went with one’s home going up in smoke.

  The body found in the charred foyer had proven to be less of a problem than Dominick expected. With the law, at least. The papers were having a field day with the story of a heroic doctor who had accosted burglars in the midst of robbing his patient, only to be struck down by the villains before they set the house ablaze and escaped into the night. That said patient was a member of the nobility whose cousin had just been murdered and his house ransacked by perhaps the same band of ruffians had all London in a frenzy.

  Mrs. Hirkins’ wailing to any reporter or constable who would hold still about being struck by an unknown assailant—and a woman of her age after all, and just what was this world coming to?—had provided a wonderful distraction from who Dominick was, and what exactly he had been doing there.

  While Alfie was busy, Dominick had spent his time getting Mrs. Hirkins moved into the new home that the generous pension Alfie bestowed upon her had purchased, and commiserating as Mr. Hirkins complained that with room for all the grandchildren, he would never again know a moment’s peace. It was much easier to sit by a fireplace with the dog, scratching behind its ears while the old man feigned annoyance, than it was to think about what was going to happen next.

  When Alfie had shyly asked Dominick to accompany him to finally visit his family seat in Scotland, he’d leapt at the chance. The only good thing London held was sitting across from him right now. Let the city keep his secrets and memories both.

  “I’m sorry,” Alfie said, interrupting his thoughts. He’d pulled a sheaf of papers from his bag and was fidgeting with the edges. “If I had known you were still in such pain I would have postponed our trip. I should have thought. I was just so ready to leave—”

  “You’re the one with the hole in his leg. If that wasn’t going to keep you in one spot, I certainly wasn’t going to try. I do wonder though, how exactly you’re planning on explaining my presence when we get there.”

  Dominick cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose you’ll have much call for a bodyguard. I’ll warn you in advance that I'm going to make a terrible valet. I could be your secretary I suppose, if you’d like all your correspondence to go out in block capitals with half the letters backwards.”

  Alfie’s hands stilled on the papers. “Nick, you didn’t come with me because you thought you were my servant did you?”

  “Of course not! I came because I love you.”

  The startled look on Alfie’s face reflected his own. It was true of course, but he hadn’t meant to be so blunt about it. Still...

  “You could look less shocked,” he teased. “I did tell you that before.”

  “You did.” Alfie smiled, a small, sweet thing. “I suppose I’m just not used to hearing it. I love you too, you know. I have mentioned it a few times, but you weren’t, strictly speaking, awake for all of them.”

  “Well.” Dominick squirmed, no more used to hearing the sentiment than Alfie was. “Good, then. I’m glad that’s settled.”

  A quiet slipped over the carriage with the drowsy sounds of the wheels bumping along the roa
d and the steady cadence of the horses’ hoofbeats.

  “I was thinking you could be my cousin,” Alfie finally blurted.

  “Your cousin?”

  “When we get to Scotland. I thought we could tell people you were my cousin. Not Reginald, of course, that would be revolting. But some other cousin no one has ever heard of. I’d hardly be the first Crawford to show up with an unexpected relation. At this point it’s practically a family tradition.”

  “Your cousin?”

  “From Cornwall.”

  Dominick, speechless, raised an eyebrow.

  “A distant cousin. Very, very distant.”

  Dominick couldn’t help but grin as the beginning of a blush crept over Alfie’s cheeks. “All right then. How do you toffs say it? Mr. Dominick Trent, late of Cornwall, very, very distant cousin of Earl Alfie Crawford, at your service, sir.”

  Dominick bowed as much as his seated position and aching chest would allow.

  Alfie laughed, then sniffed theatrically, “It’s ‘The Right Honorable Alfred Pennington the Earl of Crawford’ actually.”

  “A bit of a mouthful to call out in bed, but I’ll give it a try.”

  “See that you do.”

  Dominick was able to hold in his laughter for a few moments, but as soon as he saw Alfie’s lips twitch it was over. The pair descended into hilarity, and it was at least a mile before they regained some semblance of composure. Dominick’s last chuckles triggered a coughing fit that had Alfie’s handkerchief back in his hands. The man himself levered his way over into the seat next to Dominick, his injured leg across Dominick’s lap and a hand rubbing Dominick’s chest in soothing circles. Even after the coughs died out, Alfie kept up his ministrations. Dominick closed his eyes and leaned back, content and warm in Alfie’s love.

  “Do you have a sixpence?” Alfie whispered.

  Dominick frowned slightly at the odd question. Alfie had plenty of his own, clearly. And besides, it wasn't as if there was anything he needed to buy right at the moment. It wasn’t worth opening his eyes or moving out of Alfie’s hold to investigate however, so he fumbled blindly for his discarded jacket and pulled a coin of the right size out by feel.