Sinless Page 10

  Calmly, he got to his feet and laid a copy of the print before the general, unceremoniously shoving aside a powder box and a half-used pot of red face paint. Then he returned to his seat and waited.

  The general glanced at it and guffawed. “Can’t you take a little ribbing?”

  “Not when it endangers my career.” Andrew leaned back and crossed his legs, even though the pose was far from comfortable. He’d learned the skill of appearing relaxed from Darius and, as he feared he would always do, spared him a brief second of his time.

  “Pshaw, it won’t do that!”

  “It has already done so, sir.”

  “And why should I concern myself? Surely this thing is your business.” The general met Andrew’s gaze in the mirror.

  Oh, yes, the man knew all right. He’d seen the drawing, and he knew who’d commissioned it. So did Andrew, now. “Not when your son paid for it. He visited the artist, paid for a drawing to his specification, and then visited the printmaker. That,” he said, folding his hands in his lap, “is not acceptable to me.”

  “The boy may do as he pleases.” The general shrugged. “Why should he not? He’s attained his majority.”

  “Did he tell you the circumstance of our meeting the other night?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?” The general took more notice of his appearance, touching a curl on his wig.

  “Indeed, sir. The incident occurred at the house of Miss Angela Childers. She had given Lord Darius and me permission to have a brief discussion in a private parlor.” He ignored the general’s suggestive snigger. “Your son had smuggled three whores into the ball, and he proposed to entertain himself and his friends in a private room. That indicates discourtesy of the worst kind.”

  “As is a…business meeting of the kind you and Lord Darius were engaging in.”

  “Your son saw nothing.” Andrew refused to demean himself by lying, but he could go far enough to say, “There was nothing to see.”

  The guffaw returned again. “Why do you think I sent you to that molly house? Because I knew you would fit in. I know you are of that inclination, sir. I have seen it.”

  How on earth would he know? Did Andrew carry a placard on his forehead? He thought not. Now the general had what he determined to be evidence. Rumor and innuendo could prove exceedingly damaging. He had no security.

  The general flicked a few fingers at the valet, who silently retreated. He picked up the rouge pot and toyed with it.

  Andrew inwardly rejoiced. He was getting to his quarry. The general’s sneer at Andrew had made him feel superior, which gave Andrew a chance to slide a slim blade into his hide. He hadn’t come here for that, even though he was enjoying the experience. He had taken the time to go home and change because he wanted to come here with a clear, cool head. He had done that. Initial fury had changed to icy resolve. Strikes against him would reveal more than the general thought.

  He prepared for more insults. “I wondered why you sent me. What gave me away?”

  “The way you looked at Lord Darius in that trial.” A smug grin spread over the general’s rugged face. “I don’t need many clues to notice things that interest me. So when I heard that our man was with his lordship, I knew where to come.”

  Andrew had steeled himself at Lord Valentinian’s trial and put himself completely into barrister mode. He had not made his interest obvious. So where and how had the general discovered his penchant for Darius?

  He had not. That was the answer. He had used Andrew because he was convenient. He wanted a job done, and he turned to the nearest available person. But pretending he knew something about Andrew put Andrew in the inferior position. Andrew was supposed to admire the general. Most likely the first intimation he’d had was last night, when his son had told him about the ball. Because the general had known. He might have even paid for it.

  “You were not particularly effective, but now you have learned the way I like things done, you will do better next time,” he said airily.

  “Next time?”

  “Do you want your preferences to come to the notice of your superiors and the people who currently employ your services?”

  So that was his play. The caricature played into his hands. But Andrew had not done anything wrong. The man had nothing to use. As long as Andrew kept away from his one weakness, he would be safe from such threats.

  The thought sent daggers of regret through him, as if he were grieving for the death of someone he loved. The death of love, perhaps.

  He had no fear of the general or his threats. But if he pretended to be under the general’s thrall, he would probably extract more information from him.

  His skin itched. There was unfinished business here, something more, and he wanted to know what it was. One thing puzzled him. “Did you come to know about the young man in the same way? The one you sent me to contact?”

  General Court lifted his head, his triumph evident even in his reflection. He kept his back turned to Andrew, a sign that he was in control. Or rather, he thought he was. “I keep busy and listen. Our country needs our vigilance.” In that he was sincere. He lost the smirk and the knowing gleam in his eyes. “Especially at this time. War is hard on everyone.”

  “We’ve not declared war in Europe.”

  “Not yet, but you know as well as I do it is coming. That list is vital to our country’s safety.”

  “Not to mention the men and women listed on it. The French will either leave them alone and spy on them, or they will simply kill them.”

  “Yes.” The general hesitated and reached for the hare’s foot, the fur already stained red with rouge. He dabbed a little color on his cheeks.

  He was aging, but he wanted to appear younger. The sallow skin might conceal more than age. Disease, maybe, or worry. This room was sumptuously appointed, so it wasn’t money he needed. The silver dressing table set, the gilt mirror, and the embroidered drapes around the bed would all have fetched a comfortable sum in the saleroom.

  “If you had told me I was working for the country, instead of attempting to force me to do your will, I would have done it willingly.”

  “Not everyone is so loyal,” the general said gruffly.

  “No, indeed,” Andrew agreed smoothly. “How did you discover the name of the young man and his proclivities?” He didn’t want the general to know that he had learned the name of the youth.

  “Ha! You can tell, you know. As soon as I saw him, I knew. My son—” He snapped his mouth shut.

  What? His son shared his preferences? From what he’d seen last night, Andrew doubted that. True, sometimes men would force themselves to perform with a woman to allay suspicion, but last night Mr. Court had no reason to do so. He had planned to defile Miss Childers’s home out of devilry. Or something else?

  A suspicion uncurled in Andrew’s mind. Had the general recruited his son to help with his work? He seemed remarkably eager to call people in to help him. “May I regard your son as an ally in this delicate matter?”

  “No!”

  That word had definitely come out too loud, too sharp-edged. The general’s son was either in league with his father or he was playing some game of his own. “I am not to confide in him, then?”

  “You will not meet him,” the general stated. “He has no reason to become involved. Not now.”

  Not now? “Where is he now?”

  “What business is it of yours?”

  Andrew shrugged. “I told you of his exploits last night. I thought you might want to keep track of his movements for a while.”

  He had his clue. He should be able to discover the rest for himself. The general’s son was involved in this mess somehow, and General Court was very defensive when his son was mentioned in conjunction with the list.

  At last the general turned around. “I will tell you the truth, and then you will drop the matter. I can see th
at if you do not, you will stir up any amount of hornets’ nests. You must swear not to tell anyone what I am about to tell you.”

  “Sir, I am a loyal subject of his majesty. If anything you tell me transgresses the law, I cannot make that promise.”

  The general sighed. “Then you can know nothing.”

  Andrew had guessed some of it. “He is in trouble, is he not?”

  “Not precisely.” General Court sighed as if the world were resting on his shoulders. “Although he has come perilously close. I have decided it is necessary to send him into the country. He is rusticating until the beginning of the season.”

  Although he had no love for the general, Andrew felt sorry for the man. He had a wild son who needed taming. He could almost feel sorry for the man. Andrew got to his feet. “Keep the boy away from me and the people I love.”

  Only when he stood in the street once more did Andrew realize what he’d just said.

  He couldn’t think about that now. He had work to do.

  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.”