Chapter 11
Darius ached. He’d had no idea he would find forgetting Andrew so difficult. He had barely touched the man, after all. What on earth was he thinking, to allow himself such self-indulgent dreams?
After all this time he should know better. He had no business dreaming of a happy ending. His life didn’t hold one.
He had bidden farewell to the man he wanted more than any other, and that had to be the end of the matter. If only he could stop thinking about Andrew, wondering what he was doing and if he missed Darius.
He would leave town tomorrow. After he had obtained and disposed of that damned list, he’d go to the country, pay his respects to his sisters, his older brother, and new sister-in-law who were snugly tucked up at Haxby for the winter. His parents would follow after his father had attended Parliament next month and attended to a few matters of state. The glimmer of an idea that had come to him seemed even more distant when day broke. While he was willing to risk all, he could not ask Andrew to do so. He had no right to ask him to disrupt his life so thoroughly.
While he’d thought he understood what being born in a fortunate position meant, Andrew had pushed him into reality and made him see what it was really like. Andrew could lose his profession, which meant losing his house, his reputation, and in short order, everything.
Yet Darius wanted him so badly he ached. Perhaps now was the time to remind himself he was an adult, and he had to take responsibility for his actions. Stop thinking about what was right for him. He couldn’t have everything in this life.
He would go to the inn at Dover, collect the list, and either take the spy into custody or ensure he took passage to France. Whatever he could do, he would do it. Then he would come home and forget everything.
No, he would, for once, behave like an adult.
After giving orders to his valet to prepare a bag for a short visit out of town, he commenced dressing for dinner. When he heard the front doorbell ring, he assumed his mother had invited dinner guests.
A footman entered his bedroom to tell him someone waited downstairs for him. “Mr. Graham, sir,” he said, proffering the salver with Andrew’s visiting card.
Darius took it, not because he needed it, but because Andrew had touched it a few minutes before. He could imagine it was still warm from his touch, although it felt cold to his fingers. He stroked the pasteboard, until he realized he was doing it. Then he dropped the object hastily and gave the footman a nod. “Inform my father Mr. Graham is here. He may want to invite him to dinner. Where did you take him?”
“The morning parlor, my lord.”
Not the drawing room? Was Andrew not considered good enough? Darius compressed his lips tightly as he gave the man a nod and got to his feet, batting Richardson aside when he tried to help him into his coat. Instead, he picked up the precious item and thrust his arms through the sleeves as he headed downstairs. Ignoring his valet’s wail of despair, he strode down to the main floor and found the breakfast parlor on the garden side of the house.
Andrew was not dressed for dinner, but in his usual neat but modest black and cream, his coat unadorned except for the row of polished steel buttons, the waistcoat the same.
Darius felt overdressed in his white satin heavily embroidered waistcoat and dark green coat adorned with gold braid.
A surge of pure joy swept all other considerations away. So much that he sucked in a deep breath and stuck his feet to the floor, refusing to move closer. Supremely in control of himself, he pasted a welcoming, though polite, smile on to his lips. Given the choice, he’d far rather greet him with a kiss.
“A surprise, but not an unwelcome one.” He paused, considering the visit. “I thought you wanted us to keep our distance.”
“I do, but I need your help.” Andrew’s jaw was set, his mouth tight.
That knowledge came as no comfort to him. “You know I will do whatever you need,” he said, and meant it. Very few people could call on him in that way. Andrew headed the list.
“You haven’t heard what I want yet.”
“I don’t have to. You’re asking me for something. That’s enough.” He meant every word. He drank in Andrew’s presence, even the silver eyes so bleakly staring into his. “Please, Andrew. Just ask.”
Andrew nodded and returned his gaze to Darius’s as if he were as hungry. “I visited General Court.”
“Did he send for you?”
“I went to him.” Andrew drew a folded paper from his pocket and dropped it on the table.
Darius touched it, unfolded it, and saw the scurrilous caricature his cronies at the coffee table had considered so amusing. He had disabused them. “I know. The best we can do is ignore it. Another amusement will replace it. If the man who did it knows we care, he will continue.”
“I know who did it.” Andrew licked his lower lip.
Darius did his best not to follow the movement of that tongue or imagine what he could do with it. He failed. “Tell me.”
“General Court’s son. The young man who was so eager to defile Miss Childers’s sitting room.”
Anger surged through Darius. “I should have guessed. I did not, though I should have. He’s a young rip with more money than sense. What did you say to the general?” To stop himself reaching out to Andrew, he shoved his hands in his pockets.
“I paid a visit to the printmaker first and bought the unsold copies of the caricature. I also paid for the plate. I have it safe, in case we should have call on it, as well as a statement from the printer that Mr. Court did indeed pay for it. I thought it an act of spite, but it may be more.”
Darius suppressed his smile. It was so typical of Andrew’s meticulous method. “Did the general know his son had done that?”
“Yes,” Andrew said, grim-faced, “he did. He has plans to send his son into the country.” Andrew stared at the print before returning his attention to Darius. “Which makes me think that Mr. Court did more than pay for a scurrilous sketch.”
“Indeed?” Darius thought over what he’d learned. “Yes, you’re right. I will investigate.” He growled low in his throat, anger simmering, but caught sight of an expression on Andrew’s features that instantly changed his mood. Desire. Just a flash, relaxing the hard lines around his mouth and brightening his eyes, but Darius had seen that before, when they’d last held one another. “I will track him down.”
“It’s likely to take longer than a day. I’ll go to Dover.”
Immediately Darius shook his head. “You can’t. You have work.”
“Nothing that won’t wait.”
Something about Andrew’s expression, the way he avoided meeting Darius’s gaze, gave him pause. “Wait. Has he caused you harm already?”
Andrew shook his head.
“Has he?” Crossing the room, Darius put his hands on Andrew’s shoulders and gripped tightly, his fingertips biting into the woolen fabric. “Tell me!”
At first, Andrew didn’t move. Then he lifted his head. His eyes were chips of ice. “Nothing I cannot mend. I’m certain of it.”
He said that last as if he were trying to convince himself rather than Darius. “He has, has he not? He will not do it again. I will promise you that.” The anger simmering in him turned into a full-blown flare of fury. “No careless act will destroy a career as promising as yours.” Already plans fulminated in his head. He would destroy the bastard. He could laugh at the caricature, but Andrew did not have the same protection Darius could call on.
“I don’t think it was careless. There’s something else.”
Their eyes met in a desperate clash of need and anger. “What did he do?”
Andrew stared at him. “That is my concern.”
“It’s mine too. If we can be nothing else to one another, you are my friend. What did he do? For God’s sake, man, climb down. We need no pride, nothing between us but right and honor. Tell me, or I will make it my business to find out myself.”
A laugh spluttered out from between Andrew’s lips. “You would, would you not?”
“Aye. Believe it.”
“Oh, I do.”
Warmth seeped through the anger, forcing Darius to give a reluctant smile in his turn.
Andrew caught his breath. “Don’t do that. Don’t look at me like that.”
“How should I look at you, then? But you do not distract me, my dear. Tell me what he did.” He softened his voice, asked as a friend, a man who would be more were circumstances different.
“Very well.” Andrew sighed. “Simply because I believe you. It is surely nothing. The head of my chambers asked me not to return for a while. He has ordered the clerk to assign my cases to someone else.”
“But he has not barred you?”
“No. And a few clients withdrew their cases from my other work. Not an avalanche.”
“They were important to you.”
Andrew nodded.
Before he did something stupid, like haul Andrew into his arms, Darius released him. “I see. So you must wait on events and keep yourself above suspicion?”
“Yes. I only came to tell you what I thought and ask for your help. Young Court moves in your circles, not in mine. I did not come to throw all my troubles into your lap.”
Darius spun around and took a pace away from the source of his temptation. Already his mind raced with possibilities. He was not an Emperor for nothing. “Yes, your plan is best. I have ordered a carriage made ready for first light to take me to Dover. I would have ridden there, but I may need a vehicle to bring the spy back to town. You take it instead. I’ll stay in town and discover what I can about Court and his son.”
The visits he intended to make would do just that. “You’ll be in Dover the day after tomorrow, and you may meet with Bartolini.” The spy was the least of this business, he was sure of it. He would ruin the Courts if they dared to lay a finger on Andrew. He would not allow it. Where two clients withdrew, more would follow. Andrew would know that as well as he did.
“I have ordered the coachman and two particularly burly footmen to attend me tomorrow. They should prove very useful. You may take them into your confidence. In fact, tell them the man is a spy, and they will move heaven and earth to help. Don’t let them kill him.”
“I will most certainly not.” Andrew spoke quietly, his manner subdued. When Darius turned to face him, he noted the pinched features, the hands tightly clasped together. Andrew was worried.
“Would you have told me your troubles if I had not asked?”
“You are not my patron. You do not employ me. So, no. I will come about.”
Darius would ensure Andrew did not suffer from their association. That would be the pleasurable part of his visits. At least, not employ him, exactly, but he knew where work was to be had. “You will stay to dinner?”
“I am not dressed for dinner with a marquess.”
Recalling his family, Darius grinned. “You’d be surprised. We are dining en famille, as far as I know. If my parents have asked anyone to dinner, it will be friends. This isn’t a grand occasion. Stay. Please.”
A little warmth sparked in Andrew’s eyes. “Very well. Thank you for the invitation.”
* * * *
Seeing the members of his family with this honorable, intelligent man warmed Darius to his soul. As he’d expected, his father came down to dinner dressed much as Andrew was, with propriety but not grandeur. His parents planned to spend the evening at home.
“It is one reason I prefer London at this time of year,” his mother confided to Andrew. “The season is frantic, three or four entertainments every night, not counting the opera or the other public pursuits. October and November are much more pleasurable.”
“Not to mention profitable,” the marquess put in. “I can engage in business much more easily. And I thank heaven we have no more daughters to bring out.” He rolled his eyes. “Though two to settle.”
“Andrew has a daughter,” Darius said.
After small pause, his mother smiled encouragingly at Andrew. “Do tell me about her.”
Damn, he’d used Andrew’s first name. Darius had never made such a shocking error before at home. Or anywhere else, come to that. Nobody noticed. That is, nobody appeared to notice. But he knew his mother, his father, and his sisters Drusilla and Livia had both spotted his error. Apart from that small pause, nobody changed their demeanor or glanced in Andrew’s direction, but they knew all right. Andrew seemed to be the only person who did not, and that was because of his lack of familiarity with his too-perceptive family.
Andrew was busy telling Darius’s mother about Elizabeth and the tribulations of caring for her.
“But does your wife not help?” she inquired sweetly.
Darius would have words with her later. There was no way his parents had not investigated the man who had helped their son escape the gallows.
“My wife sadly died in childbed. My little household consists of my daughter and myself. We have relatives in London, of course. Elizabeth has cousins.”
“That is good. A child should not grow up isolated from the world.” His mother smiled winningly at Andrew. The woman could bend dukes to her will. A barrister would stand no chance.
Carefully, she extracted what she wanted to know. Was Andrew self-sufficient, or was he a fortune hunter? Did he have respectable relatives, or were they beyond the pale? Just as if she were questioning a future member of the family. Of course, her questions were subtle and her manner interested and polite, as if this were a normal topic at table. The others spoke quietly to each other, masking the marchioness’s hunger.
At one point, Andrew flicked a glance at Darius, a slight frown marking his brows. If Darius’s mother was not careful, he’d spot what she was doing. So far she was acting the part of the interested hostess, but Andrew was used to extracting information, however artfully obtained. That was, after all, part of his job.
He answered the marchioness’s questions politely but guardedly, unless he was talking about Elizabeth, slowly leading the conversation away from personal matters. “My nieces are older than my daughter, but they play most willingly with her. They are good children, and they will make excellent citizens one day. We must bring our children up carefully, for they will care for us in our old age.”
Darius’s mother was startled into laughter. “Indeed they might, but if I survive my dearest Strenshall, I will retire gracefully to the dower house at Haxby.”
“Ha!” The marquess barked a laugh. “Whence you will continue to rule the family with a rod of iron—if you ever go there at all. Viola will be hard put to retain any of her dignity.” Viola was the wife of Darius’s older brother Marcus, the heir to the marquisate.
“I will do no such thing. Viola is the most level-headed female, and I’m proud to call her my daughter-in-law. If Marcus had chosen anyone else, a simpering miss, for instance, I might have considered struggling on. However she is the best woman for my son and for marchioness. Not that I intend her to inherit that title any time soon.”
Darius put down his cutlery and reached for his wine glass, taking a sip of claret. “Viola was the daughter of my father’s land steward. Marcus took his time, but he finally realized what the rest of us had known for years. He was always hopelessly in love with her.” Actually Viola was more than that, but to tell Andrew so would be to destroy the point Darius wanted to make.
The fact diverted Andrew. “You did not want him to marry a duke’s daughter or some such?”
The marchioness shrugged. “This family is in no need of a wealthy match. As far as we are concerned, they may marry where they please. As long as they do not disgrace us in doing so. I would not like to see Dru marry a common soldier, for instance. Following the drum would not suit her in the least, however in love she is.”
“I will endeavor not to displease you, Mama,” Drusilla said dryly. “I doubt a common soldier would find much in me to commend him. I’m far too bookish, and I fear my capacity for marching may not be what he expects.”
His mother beamed, her smile infectious. “But my children tend to take the most difficult path. So far two of my children have married for love. I wish the same fate on the others, or at least, contentment. However, Dru and Livia are well-brought-rotting sh up girls and they will not disappoint us, I am sure.”
Andrew must have had the message by now. The family wanted their children happy. While Darius feared his parents must be disappointed in him, he would find satisfaction in other ways. By taking care that Andrew didn’t want, for instance. “With one exception.”
His mother turned her soft gaze on to him. “Except for the marriage ceremony, I wish you the same.”
Darius hastily gulped down the rest of his wine. He had never thought he’d hear that from her. While she accepted he would never marry, his mother had previously preferred to ignore his preferences. He had imagined her telling her friends her third son was a “perpetual bachelor.” There were perpetual bachelors, and there were people like him. Enforced bachelors, perhaps.
But that simple sentence told him his mother had accepted him, what he was, and what would make him happy. That meant so much to him.
His throat tightened, and without thinking, he looked at Andrew. His eyes were full of sympathy and something else, something Darius dared not believe. Not yet.
Darius choked out his thanks and waited for the footman to refill his glass. Once he’d regained his composure, he could inform his parents of the errand tomorrow. “I was planning on leaving town tomorrow for a few days on an errand. However, I find I need to stay here, so Andrew has kindly offered to go in my stead.”
“Has something happened?” His mother’s voice rose in pitch and her eyes widened.
“Our father knows,” he said, recalling the servants present. “It is a sensitive matter, but nothing to worry about, I promise you.” His mother might assume it was something to do with his personal preferences, but he would trust her to winkle the truth out of his father later. The marquess would not sleep tonight until he’d told her.
Thankfully, she didn’t question him further but turned and spoke of the latest soprano to attack the London stage. And attack she had, to the extent of hurling her heavy iron crown at someone in the audience she claimed was talking too much. “Everybody talks in the theater,” Lady Strenshall said, at her haughtiest. “What right has she to do something of that nature? Why she is still there, ruling over her humble subjects at Covent Garden.”
“Time was,” Darius’s father said, “that players knew their place. However, the world is upside down these days.”
He had said that to provoke her to more protestations, and she took the bait. The family could enjoy their meal in relative peace, certain the marchioness would ask no more intrusive questions. She had the perception of an eagle when she wanted it. Fortunately, she was easily distracted, otherwise she would know everything about everyone.
When the ladies rose to go to the dining room, Darius’s mother had one parting shot. “If you are taking the traveling coach, Mr. Graham, why do you not stay the night?”
She glided out, followed by her daughters.
A strong urge to persuade Andrew to stay the night, even if they spent it in different rooms, took Darius with shocking urgency, but he quelled his desire. This was not the time or the place. He would lie awake in an agony of desire, but how sweet to know they were sharing the same roof!
He dared not allow it. Before he could speak, Andrew politely declined. “I have a few instructions for my staff, and I need to see my daughter before I leave.”
“It is so charming to see a man so devoted to his child!” Putting her hand to her heart, she let it flutter among the profuse lace of her bodice. “I will leave instructions to have a collation placed in the carriage.”
“I like the way our son assumes he can use the traveling coach,” the marquess said, one dark brow lifting.
“I will pay you for the privilege, if you wish.” Darius was not amused, particularly since his father knew exactly why he’d ordered the carriage made ready. “I have not ordered the large traveling coach but the smaller. And the crest will be covered.” They had a small panel they used to cover the crest when they didn’t want to be recognized. It would be foolish to take the carriage and announce their presence.
“I know.”
Andrew got to his feet. “I should go,” he said. “I will return tomorrow, early.”
What would he think if Darius came down to him in the morning in his nightshirt? He really had to stop thinking like this. He had work to do. In pursuance of that aim, he got to his feet, too. “I need to leave, but I’m for the town. I have particular inquiries to make.”
His father waved his hand, dismissing the last footman who had lingered to refill the decanters. When they were alone, finally he lost his superior air. “Do not, either of you, step into danger. I have been making inquiries of my own. I do not need to tell you these people are dangerous. Do not allow your sense of loyalty to your country lead you into a perilous situation. I will continue to make queries about the general and his son, but Darius, do not make your queries too pointed. Andrew, the footmen who accompany you are completely trustworthy. They will do as they are instructed, and they will take it upon themselves to ensure your safety. You may count on them.”
“Thank you, sir,” Andrew said. Suddenly, to everyone in the house, he was Andrew. Darius didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry about that. After all, Andrew had saved Darius’s brother from the gallows, but they had not called him by his first name then. Only now, when Darius had called him his dear friend and invited him to dinner.
At the door, Darius offered to walk with Andrew, but he refused.
“I know the streets better than I know the back of my hand,” he said.
Darius spoke quietly. “Take care. You mean far too much to me to throw yourself away on this task.” He bit his lip. He had been determined to say nothing. He shook Andrew’s hand, despair at his lack of control spearing him. “I’m sorry. I know what we decided. I will respect that.”
“I know you will. You take care too. We may both be walking into danger.”
For an instant Darius’s mood was reflected in Andrew’s eyes. It was not right that they should suffer like this, but what else could they do?
Andrew continued his narrative in a rush of words. “I care too, but it is not possible.” Turning abruptly, he strode away.
“For me,” Darius murmured. “Take care for my sake as much as yours.”