It was another three weeks before Alec was back in London. He hadn’t been able to leave George and Annabel through the nightmare of those last days, the guilt and recriminations, Miss Hackett’s wails, the barrage of journalists and police and questions, the financial issues. The Duke’s will left everything unentailed to the Duchess, and made no mention of anyone else, such as old servants or his children. Since his wife had predeceased him, if only by minutes, that meant the entire estate went to George, although Miss Hackett, as the Duchess’s sole heir, was heard to speculate that the Duchess might have survived long enough for the Duke to step out of the window before she breathed her last, and was said to be looking for an enterprising lawyer to argue as much. Alec left that to his brother to deal with. He’d done his part, and had no desire to do more.

Once he felt he could leave, he went back home to Mincing Lane. There Mrs. Barzowski was already on her second scrapbook of newspaper reports, and demanded he give a full account of everything that had taken place as interest on his forgotten back rent. She’d held a heap of post for him, and Alec took it upstairs to sort.

There were multiple offers of work or representation. He had an angry letter from the publisher of the fairy tales book demanding his uncompleted work, and a grovelling letter from the same source dated two days later, presumably once they’d seen the papers, offering him an extension for as long as he needed, and wondering if he’d care to double the number of illustrations. There was also an invitation from Lord and Lady Moreton to stay at Crowmarsh for as long as he needed, which left Alec in tears. The Moretons had been part of Susan’s plot from the beginning; he wasn’t even sure how they came into it, except that she seemed to treat them as family to be relied on. Alec had no real connection to them at all, and the kindness of the letter made him wish he did. Also thoughtful, though less unselfish, was a communication from Sir William Cooke, offering best wishes in his family’s time of trouble, and delicately suggesting he would be most interested to see Alec’s portrait work.

And that was everything of importance. Alec hadn’t really expected anything more, or at least he’d told himself there would be nothing. There could be nothing. The Lilywhite Boys had left Castle Speight with approximately £44,000 worth of jewels, a feat that came second only to the rumours of the impending Murder in High Life case in the newspapers but was entirely knocked out of the public consciousness by the Duke’s final acts. It nevertheless had the full attention of the police. Alec had quietly hidden all his pictures of Jerry and given a description that mostly hung on the facial hair; Susan, he rather thought, had done the same. Even so, the hue and cry was up. Jerry would probably be on the Continent by now, if he had any sense.

He accepted the publisher’s offer, but declined the Moretons’, albeit with regret. He didn’t want to leave London for a while, somehow. Not that he was waiting for anything, not that he wanted to be easily found if anyone were looking, but... Well. He had work to do.

About ten days later he went out to get luncheon at a Lyons’ coffee house, and when he came to pay there was an envelope in his pocket. He fished it out—it was sealed but blank—turned it over, and waited to open it until he was back at his desk.

The message, typewritten, read simply Victoria Park, Palm House, 4.

Four what? Four pm today? Alec couldn’t put any other interpretation on it. He had no idea how the envelope had come into his pocket—for all he knew it was some new advertising stunt—but it didn’t matter. He had to see.

Victoria Park was in the East End, up towards Hackney. Alec knew it as a place where the poor went for their leisure and radical meetings were held, and dressed in one of his older suits accordingly. In fact, it proved to be a rather lovely, very sizeable space, lush green in the still-warm September weather, and the Palm House was a soaring confection of white-painted metal supports and glass, filled with tropical foliage. He was there twenty minutes early and it would, he suspected, be unpleasantly hot inside, so he retreated to a tree near the ornamental lake for shade and sat on the grass, to see what might happen.

Five minutes later someone sat down beside him. Alec didn’t look round.

“Hello, there,” Jerry said softly.

“Hello to you.” There were ducks on the lake, splashing and quarrelling over bread thrown by a couple of urchins. “How have you been?”

“Lying low. You look marvellous. I wish I did.”

Alec had to turn then. Jerry was clean-shaven, his hair considerably darker, and his eyebrows much less sharply shaped. He wore a rather vulgar waistcoat and a Paisley scarf of which the colours didn’t quite go, and looked like a clerk with aspirations to poetry on his day off. The cumulative effect was spectacularly different; Alec wasn’t sure he’d have recognised him in the street. “Good God.”

“Yes, sorry about this.” Jerry grinned ruefully, and was himself again with that smile. “You should see Temp. Who, I may add, is barely speaking to me. I must upset him more often, it’s wonderfully peaceful.”

“Susan told me what you did.” Alec tugged some grass out of the ground, running it between his fingers. “Thank you.”

“Not at all. I should say, I tried to take only newer stuff, but if any of it is your mother’s, let me know.”

“It’s my brother’s now. Really, you ought to give it all back.”

“That is a school of thought.”

Alec tossed the grass away. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to see you again.”

“I had my own doubts on that when I took a trip down from Castle Speight on the wrong side of a railway carriage,” Jerry said, with feeling. “Are you all right, Alec? Financially, and so on? Is your brother doing the decent?”

“Yes, of course. He’s giving us, Annabel and me, an allowance now and intends to make over a substantial sum once the whole situation has calmed down and he can take a look at the estate and what Father’s done over the last years.”

“And the situation in general?”

“Fine. Well. Annabel’s fiancé wrote to her indicating that she ought to release him from his promise what with the trial coming up and all the scandal. The letter arrived the morning we found the bodies. Then, as soon as that had made the papers—no trial, George becoming Duke—he wrote to say that he’d thought again and naturally he would stand by her.”

“Whoops. What’s she going to do?”

“Wrote back releasing him and burned the second letter. He was an idiot anyway. Melissa and the boys are at Castle Speight with George. The Duchess’s sister is making a fuss about the will, but nobody thinks it’ll get anywhere.”

“And how are you?”

“You mean, having set off the events that ended with my father killing his wife and himself?”

“Yes,” Jerry said. “Having told lies, and orchestrated multiple levels of betrayals, and put yourself through untold shittiness, and got caught in the murderous selfishness of those two swine with those spectacular consequences, and plunged into a damn fool mess of a situation with a bloody stupid criminal...how are you?”

“Oh, you know. So-so.”

Jerry grimaced, starting to speak. Alec held up a hand. “You can’t expect me to have an answer. I don’t know how I feel. I don’t know how I’ll feel about it tomorrow, or in ten years.”

“If you could change anything, about any of it, would you?”

“The divorce laws, so none of it would ever have happened in the first place. Look, my father made his decisions, and so did the Duchess, and so did Mr. Clayton, even. Any of them could have done things differently, and all of them chose not to, and I’m sorry for them in much the way I’m sorry for that man under Waterloo Bridge. I wish none of it had happened, but everything I did was because of what other people did in the first place and I don’t have to feel guilty that they eventually faced the consequences. Or, at least, I don’t think I have to, and I’m trying not to.”

“Fair enough.” Jerry didn’t offer anything further, no It wasn’t your fault. Alec was glad of that. He didn’t want reassurance or platitudes; he didn’t need anyone’s approval. This was up to him.

After a moment’s silence Jerry leaned back, looking around in an entirely casual way. “I should probably say, I hope you understand that I couldn’t get in touch before. I’ve been rather busy lying low, but also there was always the risk that you’d be suspected of collusion, and I am reluctant to incriminate you.”

“You could have not robbed the Duchess if you didn’t want to be pursued,” Alec pointed out.

“Yes and no. Bear in mind, I had no way of knowing what was going on after we got locked up, including whether the Duchess would have the sense to say she’d never seen the ring in her life. I didn’t know if any charges were likely to stick, and the Duke and Duchess had more than a few bones to pick with you, so I thought a bit of cash in hand would be useful in case you had to clear out.”

“Forty-four thousand pounds’ worth?”

“Oh, we wouldn’t have got anything like if we’d had to flog it all in a hurry, not with the stones that hot and so many to sell. Probably no more than seven thousand, but that would still be a useful sum if we’d needed to make a sharp exit to the Continent, for example.”

“You and Mr. Lane?”

“You and me. Or even just you, if you didn’t want me around.” Jerry shrugged a shoulder at whatever he saw in Alec’s face. “Offering people choices is entirely pointless if they don’t have the wherewithal to make those choices. If you had the readies and thus didn’t need me, I thought you’d be in a better position to consider if you might want me.”

“Wait. You actually stole those jewels for me? Really?”

“Yes,” Jerry said. “I did. Implausible, I know, but if it helps convince you, I’ll—God, how far have I fallen—I’ll give them back.”

“What would Mr. Lane say about that?”

“I can tell you exactly what he said because we’ve discussed it. It’s scarcely flattering, though.”

“What?” Alec said, with some foreboding.

Jerry plucked a daisy from the grass, rolling the stem between his fingers. “He says I’ve been no damn use since I met you, and that he doubts I’ll be any damn use in the future unless I do something about you. He added, grudgingly, that the Duchess’s jewels will be too risky for Stan to handle safely for years and Lazarus might well consider the whole business somewhat provocative so I can do as I please, except for a very nice opal bracelet which he says is the least he’s owed for all the fucking about. I do hope you don’t want that back, because I think I mentioned Templeton and opals.”

“Yes, you did. Um, what ‘something’ is it that you intend to do about me?”

“That’s up to you,” Jerry said. “In an ideal world, you’d fall immediately into my arms and I’d take you to bed—I have a place five minutes away, safe as houses. However, that would be a world in which the last time we fucked went rather differently. In this world, I’d probably have to start by asking if you want to see me again at all, and if you’re prepared to accept the risks involved. I will, needless to say, do my best to keep you safe and my head low, but still.”

“And if I do want to see you again?”

Jerry opened his hands. “Then, I suppose, I’d remind you that I love you. Your kindness, your courage, the way you see the world, the way you see me. I want you to be happy. I’d like you to believe I love you, to know it so deeply you won’t doubt it again, and I’d very much like thirty years or so to prove it to you. But it’s your choice, all of it. And in the interests of full disclosure, I do need to stress that the police want me rather urgently.”

“Yes, well, they’re not the only ones,” Alec said. “Five minutes away, did you say?”

Jerry’s place proved to be a little two-up two-down house. It was clean, plainly furnished, apparently uninhabited. Alec didn’t much care who it belonged to, or why. He simply followed Jerry upstairs, stepped into his arms, and met his mouth with a sense of desperate release as though every muscle in his body had been twanging tight for a month and then all relaxed at once. Jerry had his hands on Alec’s face; Alec gripped his lean hips, the curve of his muscular arse, holding on for dear life. They kissed breathlessly, leaning into one another, Alec learning the feel of Jerry’s mouth and chin without the expected prickle of beard, until Jerry pulled away a little to inhale, dropping his hands to Alec’s waist. “God. Alec.”

“I love you.” Alec had thought he’d have to work up to it, but the words rushed out, carried on the flood of relief at being held again, and Jerry’s expression made the rest easy. “Being with you—it’s like I was living in a pencil drawing, and you turned the world to oils. Colourful and rich. And far more complicated and difficult to manage, obviously, but that can’t be helped. I love you and—” This was the hard part. He squared his shoulders. “I believe you love me. I do.”

Jerry’s fingers tensed convulsively. “I’m glad you believe it, because it happens to be true. I’d like to make the idea less of a struggle for you.”

“I dare say I’ll get used to it, given time. I’m not at all sure how we’ll find the time, or how we go on from here at all, but you’re awfully good at getting away with things. Do you think you can get away with us?”

Jerry’s dark eyes were locked on his, as unguarded as Alec had ever seen. “Of course I can, you utter glory. I’ll get away with anything you ask me to. I’d steal you the Crown Jewels if you were sufficiently vulgar to want them.”

“The question was never whether I loved you,” Alec whispered. “It was, How brave am I? or maybe How afraid am I? And it turns out I’m slightly braver than I am afraid when it comes to you. Tell me what I need to do so we can be together and neither of us gets arrested for anything, and I’ll do it. Does thirty years still count as a long game?”

“The longest.” Jerry slid his thumbs up Alec’s neck. “Anything, Alec. Anything you need of me. If you have opinions about my profession, even—”

Alec shook his head. “I’m not going to ask you to mend your ways. I knew who you were all along, I’ve no right to demand you become someone else. Of course, if you want to reform, you should,” he added hastily. “Don’t let me put you off. But that’s up to you. Don’t rob my friends, please.”

“Good God. Call yourself an upstanding member of the nobility?”

“I may have low moral standards,” Alec acknowledged. “It runs in the family.”

“And who better for a degenerate aristocrat than a professional criminal, when you think about it?” Jerry brushed a hand over his face, through his hair. “Talk about making a profit on a job. I stole you, and I’m keeping you.”

Alec nodded breathlessly. Jerry smiled into his eyes. “With all due care and attention. And talking of such matters—”

“I never lied about what I want,” Alec said over him. “I like you having the control. In here, I mean, or in a theatre box or under Waterloo Bridge; I don’t want you ordering my food or any such. But between us.”

“You want to be in my hands?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Obedient to my orders, pliant to my will— For heaven’s sake, Alec, it’s no good saying you want me in control and then looking at me like that.” Jerry’s fingers slid down his spine. “God, I adore you. I have no idea how I’m supposed to maintain a façade of cool authority under these circumstances.”

“Practice from a lifetime of dishonesty?”

“That will doubtless help.” He took Alec’s chin, tilting his head up. “This is ridiculous. I’ve been thinking about fucking you every night for a month. I planned to make up for that unspeakable last time inch by inch over your skin, to render you so helplessly mine you’d need reminding to breathe. And now you’re here, and I want to do nothing but tell you how beautiful you are.”

“You could do both.”

“I probably could.” Jerry’s eyes narrowed in a familiar way that made Alec’s skin tingle. “Or I could pull myself together—at your expense, needless to say. It may take some time. Do you have anywhere you need to be tonight?”

“No.”

“Will you stay here?”

“Can I?” Alec asked. The thought was astonishing. “I mean, is it safe?”

“Entirely. Stay with me, sleep with me, in every sense. I’m Jeremy here, by the way, Jeremy Brant.”

“Jeremy. Right.”

“I do realise there are inconveniences to a lover whose name changes quite so frequently,” Jerry said, with a hint of apology.

“Oh, well. I knew you were a Lilywhite Boy when I got into this.”

“I really don’t think it works as a singular. The point about the lily-white boys in the song is that there’s two of them, no?” He reached for Alec’s necktie, tugging it undone.

Alec tipped his head back to give access. “Two, two, the lily-white boys, clothèd all in green-O...”

“One is one and all alone,” Jerry sang in a surprisingly deep baritone, fingers dancing down Alec’s buttons. “And nevermore shall be so.”

“It’s ‘ever more’, isn’t it?”

Jerry leaned forward, brushing a gentle kiss over Alec’s lips. “Certainly not.”

“Oh.” Alec could feel himself going pink. “But you can’t just change a Christmas carol to suit yourself.”

“Suit us. And I can do any damn thing I please.” Jerry tugged his shirt-tails free and winked at him. “Watch me.”