Alec gaped in astonishment at the man standing on his doorstep. “William?”
The Duke of Claridge, his face set in stone, swept past Alec and into the shop. “Shut the door!”
Alec shut the door. “What—?”
“Lock it.”
“William, what on earth—”
“Lock it!” William commanded, his tone imperious.
Alec turned his back to William and pretended to lock the door. Something was very wrong, and he was uneasy. He might need a ready escape.
He turned to find William pacing up and down the shop’s aisle, looking spectacular in an outfit of embroidered silver silk, head to toe. Even his shoes and stockings were silver, and his wig had been powdered that shade as well. He looked as though he were on his way to some important gathering, perhaps with the King himself. Yet here he was, in Alec’s shop, his body rigid with tension and his face red with anger.
Surprisingly, his beauty did not move Alec anymore. In fact, he’d never seemed more foppish to Alec, more a... a gilded turd. What on earth did he want here? And on Christmas morning yet?
Alec moved farther into the shop and leaned against a tall cabinet filled with figurines. He crossed his arms, feigning indifference. “Merry Christmas to you too. What can I help you with, William?”
“That man.... That odious, self-righteous jackanapes. Do you know he came to my home? My home!”
“What? Who did?”
“Asking me about that bloody tree angel. Accusing me of.... I very nearly called him out then and there. I should have done. If I were less of a gentleman!”
The tree angel? Called him out?
William’s outrage was making Alec’s stomach clench and his pulse race with anxiety. “Can you please calm down and explain what you’re about?”
“John Trent!” William sneered. “‘Bow Street Runner’. Ha! Bow Street blackmailer more like.”
“What? John would never—” Alec gasped.
“John? You call him ‘John?’” William stopped pacing to stare at Alec. His features did a tortured dance, from anger to agony and back again. “That’s why he came to me, isn’t it? He wanted you for himself. My man said you were there, at his residence, all last night. You’ve slept with him, haven’t you? You allowed him to befoul you.”
Alec wasn’t sure what the hell was going on. John had gone to see William about the angel? But then, he’d tracked down the shop, so perhaps he’d also figured out who threw the angel away. Whatever had occurred, Alec was certain he hadn’t tried to blackmail William. And he was also quite sure what he did with John was none of William’s damn business.
“You had me followed?” he asked angrily.
William glowered. “I had him followed. For pity’s sake, Alec, keep up. Of course I did. That blackguard threatened me! He knew. He knew about us.”
Alec pressed his lips tight. You allowed him to befoul you.
His anxiety was turning into anger. Of all the bloody nerve! How dare William come to him after two years, two years, and make him feel shame for finding another, for finding someone who could love him back?
His throat constricted, making his words choked. “William, you broke with me long ago. You have no right on earth—”
“I? I have every right!” William’s tone reeked of arrogance, like he had a right to everything, anything he could possibly want. “More to the point, I have the authority. Do you have any idea what I could do to Trent with a single word? And to his entire household if they’ve been harboring a known sodomite? I could call on Sir Henry Fielding tomorrow and have Trent ruined. Ruined. And arrested. And tried. And I will, Alec! I swear I will, unless you promise me you will never see him again.”
Alec’s jaw dropped open in shock. Would William do that? Have John arrested? Interrogate his household? What if they found out about Miss Emily and Miss Wilfred? Or Dante and Charles? Or Mrs. Simpson? What if Alec was responsible for bringing disaster down on all their heads? What if they were all strung up at Tyburn because of him?
Dear God. He’d never forgive himself. A cold, sick dread came over him so that he had to place a hand on the cabinet at his hip to steady himself.
“Why?” he asked weakly. “Why would you do that?”
“Because, Alec, you will always be mine!” William said hotly.
He lunged across the distance between them and grabbed Alec’s wrists. His momentum slammed them both into the cabinet. It rattled as everything inside shook.
William was not as large as John, but he was larger than Alec. His body felt hard, his arms strong as Alec struggled to get away. But William had the advantage, pinning Alec against the wood and glass door.
“Stop struggling, damn it!” William barked.
Alec stopped, more to avoid damage to the cabinet than out of obedience. Breathing hard, he looked up into William’s face. “Please stop this. Leave him alone. Leave me alone.”
“I won’t.” William’s nostrils flared, and his eyes took on a fevered sheen.
“We’ve done nothing to hurt you, William. Please.”
William ignored him, pressing up against him in a most suggestive manner. Alec’s wrists ached at his sides, where William held them encircled in a grip of steel. He was no weakling. He might be pampered and powdered and oiled, but he rode horseback and fenced nearly every day. Alec could have struggled harder, but the dread of William’s threats leached his strength—and his will.
“And to think I once thought of you as pure,” William murmured, his gaze roaming Alec’s face. “You aren’t, are you? You’re a trollop. Is this what you must have, then?” William ground his stiffening prick against Alec’s hip. “If you must have it, I’ll give it to you, no one else.”
“William, get off me,” Alec whispered. He’d once craved this man’s touch. Now it felt loathsome.
“I’ve missed you. God, how I’ve wanted you!” William kissed his neck. He released Alec’s wrists to grasp his face with both hands. “Tell me you still love me, darling, and I’ll forgive you. We can put this dreadful business behind us.”
Alec could hardly believe his ears. “For God’s sake, William! You only want me because I love someone else now.”
How like William. He’d always wanted what someone else had—a pair of boots, a coat, a dog. And now him. How had he ever loved this shallow man? Lord, he’d been such a fool. It was obvious now. William was like a sketch, colorless and flat. John was a finished sculpture, having dimension, detail, and form. Add a breath of love and he was Galatea.
Alec felt along the side of the cabinet, searching for anything he could use.
“No. No, I loved you, Alec. Always. Only y—Ugh.”
William gave a cry of pain and backed off, holding his ribs. Alec brandished the cane with its eagle handle. He’d never been so glad for beaked creatures in his entire life. “I told you to get off me.”
William stared at him in surprise. Alec raised the cane over his shoulder like a club. He was furious and heartsick and wanted to vomit, but, by damn, he’d brain William if he came one step closer.
“Now you listen to me for once in your life,” Alec said with deadly calm. “You’ve had your tantrum. And you have my word that I will not return to Mr. Trent’s residence, or see him ever—” His voice hitched. “Ever again. But only if you swear you will leave them alone. Indefinitely. You will not raise so much as a whisper against him or his household. Is that clear?”
William narrowed his eyes in calculation, one hand still rubbing his side. “You’ve bruised me.”
“I asked if that was clear!”
William’s lip curled. “You don’t get to speak to me in that tone or set the terms. I am the Duke of Claridge. Who are you?”
“He’s my lover,” said a deep voice from behind them. “And the man who could ruin you in a heartbeat.”