by KJ Charles
“My goodness.” The woman framed in the cottage door was about five feet tall and a good seventy years old, with cloudy eyes in a wrinkled face. “Master Kim!”
“I did say, Nanny. He’s had a bad time.”
“So I see. Come along in, now. Goodness me.”
Will staggered into a cottage that was far too neatly kept for a man in his state. He stopped at the parlour door, unable to make himself go in to the sanctum sanctorum. “I’m filthy.”
“I can see that,” Mrs. Mungo said tartly. “Into the scullery, right now.”
“I’ll organise the bath,” Kim said. “Can you dig out something for him to wear, Nanny?”
“I suppose he’s about Tom’s size. Might as well have some use of them.”
“And he’s starving and thirsty. If you’ve anything in the larder...”
Will sat on a hard chair eating a dense slice of fruit cake, while Kim set water boiling over a fire, just like a normal man who didn’t have servants or machinery to do every task for him. They didn’t speak. Will couldn’t think of anything to say, and Kim seemed not to feel the need. He stayed, though, even when the bath was ready and Will had started the laborious task of peeling off his borrowed, muddy socks.
“Going to scrub my back?” he enquired, as he pulled off his vile shirt.
“I’d like to be sure you won’t fall asleep and drown in the tub.”
“It’s a hip bath,” Will said. “I’d need to be a contortionist.”
Kim nodded. “Then I’ll leave you to it.”
It wasn’t a huge tub and the water cooled quickly even in front of the fire, but Will didn’t care. He scrubbed every inch he could reach, enjoying the harsh yellow soap as if it were the sort of luxurious unguent Phoebe doubtless kept in her bathroom, finally kneeling in the tub to dunk his head under water.
When he pulled his head out, Kim was there, watching.
He stood with a pile of material in his arms. His eyes were very dark in the dim light, and he looked—it was hard to identify that look. It held something of the expression you saw in church sometimes, when people were lost in the invisible, and the pain in their minds was edged with hope.
Will knelt up, very aware of his nakedness, and Kim’s gaze. “Enjoying the view?”
Kim didn’t answer for a second, then he gave a quick smile, as if shaking off his mood. “Very much. Notwithstanding, here’s a dressing gown and pyjamas. They belonged to Nanny’s grandson, so treat them carefully, if you would.”
Past tense. “War?”
“Jutland. Navy man.”
Will wondered how Nanny felt about Kim’s war record. He decided not to ask, and instead stood, water streaming off him. Kim’s eyes flickered down his body, but his expression didn’t change as he held out a towel.
Will took the rough cloth he was handed and set about drying himself. He took his time and didn’t bother to cover himself up as he did it. Kim stood, watching. Neither of them spoke.
“Better?” Kim asked once he was in pyjamas and dressing gown.
“Much.”
“Nanny’s put out food in the kitchen. I’m starving, so...”
They ate at the kitchen table: veal and ham pie, heavy filling bread, cheese that tasted a lot better now he wasn’t in chains. There was ale too, dark and nutty.
“Is Mrs. Mungo your old nurse?” Will asked once he was properly full.
“She used to take care of me, yes. A long time ago.”
“Are we near your...” Will waved a hand. “Family home?”
“Not far.”
But they hadn’t gone there for refuge. Will considered that as he cut another slice of bread. “How did you find me?”
“Luck, desperation, elimination. And Ingoldsby, actually. He’s had a few hints of suspicious activity in that area over a couple of years and let me know discreetly that Zodiac might have a nest around there. I tried six houses over two days before I happened on that one. I was coming to the conclusion that he’d lied to me to get me out of the way, but clearly I wronged him.”
Will frowned. “So was the War Office trying to find me?”
“No,” Kim said. “The leak, remember? It wouldn’t have helped to send a detachment of agents off to an address if one of them telephoned Libra with an advance warning. That could have got you killed. Ingoldsby extended his cooperation in a private capacity.”
Will put down his fork. “Look, I’m still not clear. Are you War Office or not?”
“Not. I have lent a hand on occasion but I’m an amateur.”
“An amateur what?”
“Busybody. Jack of all trades. Let’s say I extend my assistance when it’s needed or requested.”
“And why did Libra call you a traitor?”
“Ah, that.” Kim grinned. “I did a spot of infiltration a little while ago. Learned a certain amount about the organisation before I was rumbled. Trusting me was the error of judgement that got the previous Libra removed from his position, and this mortal coil.”
Will raised his brows. Kim shrugged. “Zodiac is unforgiving.”
“But they didn’t come after you?”
“They haven’t yet. I will give them this: they’re practical. Waging war on individuals is a pointless and distracting waste of resources. They’ll doubtless kill me if I get in their way again—”
“You just have,” Will said. “I told you I should have finished Libra. Now he knows you were involved and they’ll come for you.”
Kim sighed. “I do have some small amount of experience in this business, Will. Give me a little credit? When it comes to lurking around trees and ambushing people, I happily bow to you.”
Will couldn’t find an answer to that, or at least not one appropriate to the circumstances. He yawned instead. It was past eight, and he was bone-tired.
“Bed,” Kim said. “You need to sleep. I’ll show you the room.”
It was a very nice spare room, simply furnished, with a fire blazing in the small grate and a big bed with a patchwork quilt. It was also, Will was pretty sure, one of just two bedrooms in this tiny cottage.
“Where are you going to sleep?” he asked.
“I can stretch out downstairs.”
“The bed’s big enough,” Will said. “We can share.” It was entirely unremarkable for two men to share a bed in these circumstances. Nanny Mungo wouldn’t think anything of it, he was sure.
Kim hesitated, then gave a little shake of the head. “You need a good night’s rest. I’ll go.”
“Don’t.”
Will hadn’t meant to sound like that, as if he were pleading, but he did. Kim’s lips parted soundlessly. Will took a step closer. He put out a hand, ran a finger down Kim’s jaw, felt just the first hint of stubble.
“Stay,” he said softly. “I’d like your company.”
Kim’s expression was almost painful, as if nobody had told him that before in his life. Will brushed his fingers down his neck, up over his fine cheekbones, into his hair. “It’s been a rough few days. When you turned up—I’ve never wanted to see anyone more.”
“You don’t need to be grateful to me.”
“Bugger gratitude. I’m appreciative,” Will said. “I said that I didn’t think you were a shirker, and I was right. You came to get me, Kim. For all the pissing about before, you did that.”
“Don’t underestimate the pissing about.” Kim’s voice was strained.
“I’m not, but don’t underestimate saving my life either. The other morning you said nothing had changed. Well, it has now. Maybe it doesn’t alter anything in the grand scheme, but...” He let his hand drop to meet Kim’s, catching his fingers. “We don’t have to do anything. I’d still like you to stay.”
Kim’s hand tightened convulsively on his. “You won’t thank me tomorrow if I do. No, really. You’re exhausted, and I’ll need to get moving at dawn and—well. Common sense is required.” He held up a hand as Will began to speak. “Don’t take this as a no. I can’t tell you quite how much
I’d like to stay with you now; I’d strongly prefer not to go back to London at all. Oh hell.”
He tugged at Will’s hand, pulling him forward, and their mouths met with desperate need. Will kissed him back, and Kim’s hands came up to grip his face, flexing convulsively against his skin. He had the oddest feeling that they were both trying not to collapse against the other one.
“I was terrified,” Kim mumbled against his mouth. “Six days, Will. All my fault. I really thought you were in that shallow grave I spoke of.”
“I wasn’t so good myself.” He rested his forehead against Kim’s, the two of them leaning together like a pair of cards.
“Something of a week all round.”
“Damned right.”
They stood together a moment longer, then Kim stepped back. “And now I am going to be sensible. I shall sleep downstairs, and you will get the good night you desperately need. Stay here for—say a week? I really do want you out of sight, out of London and Zodiac’s clutches. I’ll be in touch.”
Will nodded. It was sensible. He tried not to feel rejected, or to let the clawing longing show on his face. It was just reaction to the time alone; he’d get over it. “All right, if you say so.”
“Good man. Sleep, eat, recover, and let me try to sort this out as best I can. I’ll leave Nanny funds for your sustenance, so indulge all you like. Don’t contact anyone, and wait here for me, will you? No coming back to London early. You’ve done your part.”
Will nodded. He was too tired to argue any more. “Kim?” he mumbled. “Thanks. For everything.”
Kim gave a little, painful twitch of a smile. “No more thanks, please. Just take care of yourself, for once.”
WILL SLEPT UNTIL PAST eleven the next morning, by which time Kim and the Daimler had long gone. Mrs. Mungo cooked him a large breakfast, interrogated him about his family, marital status, village of origin, education, employment, and war, and equipped him with a set of clothes of roughly the right size. “My Tom’s,” she said. “My grandson. I’ve no more use for them, and he’d have wanted to help a soldier. He always liked Master Kim.”
“You worked at, uh, the big house, is that right?”
“Holmclere,” Mrs. Mungo said. “The family seat. Four miles up the road towards Rathbury, you’ll find it. Do you know the house?”
“Never been in this part of the world.” Will hesitated, wondering if he could ask the obvious question.
Mrs. Mungo gave him a sharp look. “And now you’re thinking, why did Master Kim come to Nanny in trouble and not his own home?”
“Well. Yes.”
She clattered at the sink. “He was always the clever one, Master Kim, not like his brothers. So sharp he’d cut himself, and where he got that I couldn’t say but not from the marquess, that’s certain. A clever boy with secrets. Were you like that?”
“Not really,” Will said. “I mostly climbed trees and played football.”
“That was my James, and Tom after him. Master Kim was always different, even before the trouble,” Mrs. Mungo said ruminatively. “And after—well. But I’ll tell you this, young man, he asked me a few years ago not to believe anything he hadn’t told me himself, and I haven’t and shan’t. So if you want to know why he didn’t go home, it’s because not many people know him like his nanny, and them as should, don’t. But if I needed help, there’s nobody in the world I’d turn to before Master Kim. You remember that.”
“I will. Thank you, Mrs. Mungo.”
She sniffed. “You may as well call me Nanny, like everyone else. Now make sure you finish up your plate. I don’t know what you’ve been up to, nor I don’t want to, but Master Kim told me to feed you up, and feed you up I shall.”
She was as good as her word, providing an enormous late luncheon and supper. He earned them with a few deeply relished walks out in the fields, getting reacquainted with fresh air and the sky, and sat with her that evening, reading while she knitted, remembering his own grandmother and cosy evenings long ago when the world had been a very simple place.
He slept like the dead that night, replenished and rejuvenated. Good food, exercise, peace. What more could you reasonably ask? Maybe he ought to sell the bookshop when probate came through and move back to the countryside.
That was the first day. By the morning of the third, he was bored stiff.
It felt like he was still under house arrest, that was the problem. Six days of forced inactivity had been bad enough without adding more by choice. If you could call it choice. He wanted to know what was going on, and what Kim was up to. He wanted to find Libra, and beat the daylights out of him in an approved and civilised manner. He wanted to know Maisie was all right, to be sure he hadn’t caused her trouble.
The last was the most urgent. He was almost convinced that his plan hadn’t got her in trouble, and he knew logically that if it had, he’d be far too late to help. He still couldn’t settle without knowing, so he gave up, borrowed a shilling from the money Kim had left, and went to the post office to find a telephone.
He called Villette’s and asked to speak to Maisie Jones, claiming to be her cousin with a family emergency. She came to the telephone a moment later. “Hello? Vincent?”
“It’s me.”
“Will!” Her voice hissed down the crackly line. “Are you all right? Where have you been? Why didn’t you get in touch?” She sounded as though she were about to cry.
“Long story. I’ll tell you soon, I promise. Are you all right?”
“Of course I am. Why shouldn’t I be?”
“That damned ticket. I was a fool to involve you. If you still have it, you need to get rid of it right away.”
“What? Will—”
“I’m serious, Maisie. It’s dangerous for you, and you have to be very careful. Now, I need—”
“Will!” Maisie said in strangled tones that suggested she wanted to shout. “I haven’t got it. You do.”
“What?”
“I gave it to you.” Maisie spoke with extreme meaning. “Remember? When I last saw you? I gave it to you, but you’d said not to say anything that could be overheard, so I sent you a note that night to say you should keep it safe!”
“Keep...” Will stared at the wall of the telephone booth without seeing it, feeling his stomach plunge.
The flower. The silk flower Maisie had carefully secured in his buttonhole. She must have folded the pawn ticket small and made the flower around it with silk and wire. A brilliant, perfect place of concealment.
And Kim had taken it to pieces. Will could see the image now, as bright and vivid as any Pre-Raphaelite painting. Kim crouched in the doorway, unwrapping the wire. Going absolutely still for that long moment as Will had recounted his miseries.
He’d thought Kim had been affected by his words, that it had hurt him to hear Will’s pain. Whereas in fact...
He’d found the pawn ticket, hadn’t he? Found it, worked everything out, parked Will here with a pack of lies, and gone off to London to retrieve the information. The unbelievable shit.
“Will?” Maisie’s tinny voice demanded. “Are you there?”
“I’m coming back,” Will said. “See you soon.”
IT WASN’T QUICK. HE had to thank Nanny properly—it wasn’t her fault that her precious Master Kim was a manipulative lying toe rag—and then embarrassingly, take some of the money Kim had left to pay for his stay. He had to get a lift by cart to the nearest railway station, and two changes of train to reach London, and then the Tube. It was quarter to five when he arrived in Lexington Street. He nipped into Villette’s, caught Maisie’s eye, and kicked his heels irritably until she came out.
“Will!” Maisie grabbed his hand, eyes wide. “What on earth is going on? What happened? Phoebe came to see me, she said you were kidnapped!”
“I was,” Will said shortly. “Tell you on the way.”
“The way where?”
“To the pawn shop you used.”
He explained what had happened as she led the way. I
t took a while. Maisie gasped, squeaked, spluttered and, as he concluded, gaped at him. “You—but— They can’t do that!”
“Well, they did. It wasn’t much fun.”
“And you think Lord Arthur stole the pawn ticket after he rescued you?”
“While he was rescuing me, the shifty swine. That’s what we’re going to find out, but yes. I do.”
She frowned. “But if he only wanted the ticket, why would he bother with the rescue part? All the running and fighting and finding you a safe place sounds like hard work to me.”
“If he’d taken the flower and left me there, I dare say I’d have put Libra on to him. Or maybe I wouldn’t but he couldn’t risk it. He was safer not leaving any clues. And sending me to stay with Nanny, Mrs. Mungo, got me out of the way and gave him a free hand to get the information.”
Maisie narrowed her eyes. “I’m not sure that’s quite fair. Phoebe came to see me two days after you went off. She said he was awfully worried and he’d gone to find you. It does sound like he wanted to help.”
“Maybe he did, but he wanted the ticket more. We’ll know in a minute,” Will said. “If whatever it was you pawned has been claimed, we’ll know Kim found the ticket and stole it in front of my face and lied to me again. And if he did that...”
He remembered standing dripping and naked, Kim’s eyes on him. He’d all but pleaded with the bastard to share his bed in part because of how Kim had been then. Kim had wanted him, and Will had wanted him right back: his warmth, his sardonic tongue, his rare smile. The way his eyes lit at Will’s pleasure, the way they found a rhythm together so easily, fucking or fighting or running for their lives. The way he looked when he came, stripped of his defences for a few brief seconds.
You won’t thank me tomorrow if I stay. Well, that was true. The only thing that could make him feel stupider now would be if he’d spent another night in bed with a man who fully intended to screw him in a much less pleasurable way. He should probably thank Kim for his restraint; he should definitely learn his lesson.
He’d wanted to believe Kim had come for him because he mattered. Because they could have been friends, and more than friends. He’d wanted to believe there was something meaningful between them, and perhaps there had been, but the minute the ticket had fallen into his hands, Kim had once again proved that he would burn it all to the ground.
