by Merry Farmer
Joe smiled at the exchange, in spite of his own, roiling emotions. “I should be more sympathetic to Alistair. He can’t change who he is, and I’m not sure I would want him to.”
“Of course not,” Wirth agreed, focusing on Joe once more. “But I understand how irritating gentlemen can be sometimes.” He shot another, teasing glance to Lionel, then said, “Do you want to send for him?”
“I suppose we’d better.” Lionel stood and crossed in front of Joe, heading to the office door, then out into the hall.
Once he was gone, Wirth grew serious. “Alistair also told me that you were upset with him because he failed to inform you of some key information he received before your night together.”
Heat raced up Joe’s neck to his face. What else had Alistair revealed? “We should be following every lead we get when it comes to finding the missing children.”
“Agreed,” Wirth said, standing. “Which is why I passed the information along to Patrick Wrexham as soon as Alistair gave it to me.”
Joe’s spirits lifted, and he sat straighter. “Has Wrexham discovered anything?”
“Not specifically,” Wirth said, pacing in front of Joe. “Though the information does match what he already has. Confirmation is as good as new information sometimes.”
With renewed excitement, Joe jumped to his feet. “I have new information,” he said. “At least, I think I do.” Wirth paused and turned to face him. “I found a note in Burbage’s office that said a transaction would take place at some unknown London dock at eleven-thirty on Thursday.”
Wirth’s eyes went wide. “Which dock?”
Joe let out a breath. “I have no idea. The note wasn’t specific.”
Wirth’s face fell into a frown, and he continued his pacing. “It’s still the most specific information we’ve had to date.” He glanced to Joe as he crossed in front of him. “And you say you found this in Burbage’s office?”
“I did.”
Wirth rubbed a hand over his tense face. “That all but proves Burbage is involved. Or someone in the Eccles family. Perhaps the entire family.”
The statement hit Joe hard. It was one thing to drag himself to the conclusion that he had while rifling through Burbage’s papers, but it was another to have someone on the outside point out the truth as though it were obvious. He felt like a fool for not figuring it all out from the start. Had he not looked hard enough, possibly because Burbage was an aristocrat, not to mention the man paying him a wage? If that was so, he was as guilty of buying into the lie of class distinction as much as Alistair was.
He let out a breath and shoved his hands through his hair. “I have been in a position to discover the truth all these months, and I squandered it.”
“You found out when a transaction is going to take place,” Wirth assured him. “And you were instrumental in Alistair finding that paper connecting Adler to the transaction. I think it’s likely that transaction is transporting the missing children.”
“But I could have done more,” Joe sighed. “And now I’ve been sacked and banished from the one place where I could have been of use.” He bristled with frustration, hating himself for being stupid and acting without thinking.
“Don’t castigate yourself yet,” Wirth said, leaning against the desk once more. “The investigation is far from over. In fact, I have a feeling it’s just heating up.”
He didn’t have a chance to go on. The office door opened, and Lionel returned, leading Alistair behind him. Alistair wore a puzzled frown. He froze the moment he spotted Joe, his brow shooting up and his face flushing pink.
Joe’s heart shot to his throat as he stared at Alistair. How he had managed to forget how devilishly handsome Alistair was in the scant space of a week was beyond him. At the same time, Alistair had a decided tension around him that seemed to make the lines of his face harder and his shoulders tighter. The overall effect made Joe want to run to him and fold Alistair in his arms, both to apologize and to tell him that everything would be all right. In actuality, he stood where he was, unable to move.
“You’re back,” Alistair said, removing his coat at Lionel’s prompting and stepping slowly forward.
“I went to Brighton,” Joe blurted, taking two fast steps toward Alistair, then stopping. “I found nothing. It was a fruitless trip.”
“You went all the way to Brighton on your own?” Alistair asked, his expression softening.
Joe nodded. He wanted to say so many things, to apologize and to confess how much he loved and missed Alistair. He wanted to say that it didn’t matter what people thought of them or their stations in life, he just wanted to be with him. But the words refused to push past his lips.
“I told David about that note,” Alistair said haltingly.
Joe swallowed the pinch of jealousy at hearing Alistair refer to Wirth by his given name. He nodded. “He told me. And I told him about another note I saw, just this morning.” He stepped closer to Alistair, taking in a cleansing breath and forcing his mind to things that were more important than his bruised heart. “Something is going to happen on Thursday at eleven-thirty at a dock on the London waterfront.”
Alistair looked surprised, but it was Lionel who stepped forward and said, “You have a day and a time?”
“But not a location,” Wirth said. “All the same, we need to inform Patrick so that something can be done. A sweep of the dockyards, perhaps.”
“The dockyards are extensive,” Lionel answered, as if Joe and Alistair weren’t even there. “And as much as it pains me to say it, they’re out of the purview of my sphere of information.”
“Someone might know something.” Wirth shrugged. “Even gentlemen have business interests at the docks.”
“You know more about the underworld than I do,” Lionel said, crossing his arms and frowning.
“I do, but I generally need more than four days to follow up on information this vague.”
Joe only gave half of his attention to the conversation between Lionel and Wirth. He stared at Alistair, desperate for a way to communicate his regret without having to swallow his pride. It didn’t help the brittle state of his nerves that Alistair stared right back at him, like some sort of confession was hovering just behind his pursed lips.
“I was sacked,” Joe said at last.
“You were?” Of all things, a flash of hope filled Alistair’s expression.
“Burbage caught me in his office and sacked me on the spot. He suspects something between us as well,” Joe added.
Lionel and Wirth stopped their conversation, turning to them.
“Burbage caught you snooping in his office and he suspects the two of you are involved?” Lionel asked, color splashing across his pale face. He cursed under his breath and shook his head in disgust as he marched behind his desk and began rifling through papers. The only part of his mutterings that Joe could make out were, “careless” and “amateur”.
Alistair seemed to notice Joe’s satchel on the sofa for the first time. “Where are you staying?” he asked, more hope in his eyes.
“I don’t know,” Joe sighed.
“I can arrange for accommodation,” Wirth said, glancing cautiously between Joe and Alistair.
“Nonsense,” Alistair said. “You’ll come home with me.”
“I can’t do that,” Joe said, though the pull to do just that was powerful.
“I need a valet,” Alistair went on with a shrug. “It’s what I told you last week. No one would question your presence in my house.”
Joe had a feeling everyone would question it, starting with Burbage, as soon as the bastard found out. How long could things go on once that cat got out of the bag?
He opened his mouth to reply, but Alistair spoke over him with, “I won’t hear of anything else. You’re coming home with me.”
Joe glanced to Wirth, surprised to find he wanted the man’s guidance in the matter.
Wirth shrugged. “It will be easier to keep you both informed of the investigation if you�
�re in the same place.”
There was more to Wirth’s answer than met the eye, Joe was certain. He glanced to Lionel, whose sharp stare seemed to tell him he would be a fool for not jumping at the chance to quietly slip into his lover’s house in a manner no one would question or find untoward. Joe damned the two men for being so perceptive and meddling, even though neither said a word.
“All right,” he sighed, turning back to Alistair.
Alistair cracked a relieved smile that shot straight to Joe’s heart. Twin feelings of disgust with himself for feeling so maudlin and relief that Alistair didn’t seem to be irreparably hurt by his actions left Joe feeling utterly off-balance. He smiled in return before he could stop himself, which only widened Alistair’s grin. The two of them would be blubbering in each other’s arms in no time if he didn’t put his foot down.
“What do you plan to do about the information I gave you?” he asked Wirth, clearing his throat when his words came out in a croak.
“Like I said, I’ll inform Patrick and get him working on things immediately,” Wirth answered.
“And I’ll send out my feelers in all the appropriate directions,” Lionel added, walking back around the desk to take the cold cup of tea that Joe hadn’t touched from his hands. Joe was startled that he still held it. “Why don’t the two of you go on and see if there’s anything you can do to infiltrate Burbage’s cabal again.”
Alistair blinked. “Burbage’s cabal?”
Joe blew out a breath, his thoughts flying back to where they had started this interaction with Wirth and Lionel. “Burbage is clearly involved in the disappearance of all these children,” Joe said. “Something I should have figured out far sooner than I did. Particularly since he left for his trip the night Toby and Emma disappeared.”
His back snapped straight as the thought struck him. Why had he not made the connection before?
Because he’d assumed Toby and Emma were concealed somewhere in the house, spying on guests, not missing, on the night of the ball. And because his thoughts had been so consumed with lust for Alistair that he hadn’t had room to think of anything else.
“I’ll find out where exactly Burbage went on his little trip up north,” Lionel said, returning from the stove, where he’d deposited Joe’s teacup.
“He traveled north?” Joe asked.
“He left from St. Pancras on a train destined for Edinburgh,” Lionel said. “Though that particular train made a dozen stops before it got there. I didn’t realize it would be important to know more, otherwise I would have had someone follow him.”
Joe couldn’t imagine who Lionel might have had working for him, but it hardly mattered. As difficult as it was to step away from the investigation, he knew the whole thing was in good hands.
Wirth nodded to him as if acknowledging the thought. “You’re not in this alone,” he said. “We’ll find those children, and we’ll find your sister.”
Alistair’s heart hadn’t stopped racing since the moment he stepped into the offices of Dandie & Wirth and saw Joe standing there, teacup in hand, looking utterly lost. He’d barely known what to say through the business at the office, and he knew even less what to say when he ushered Joe outside to the carriage waiting for him.
“You look well,” he said, opening the carriage door and waiting for Joe to get in.
“No, I don’t,” Joe said. He stared at Alistair for a long moment before frowning and climbing into the carriage. “Shouldn’t you get in first?” he asked as he settled.
Alistair jumped in, shut the door, and called for the driver to take them home. “I don’t know, and at the moment, I don’t care.”
Joe hummed and adjusted his satchel on his lap like a shield.
“I’m sorry,” Alistair blurted before he could lose his nerve.
“What about?” Joe asked, sounding tired.
“About all of this. About fighting with you. I know you don’t want to be my valet, but—”
“I want to be your valet,” Joe sighed. Alistair wasn’t convinced, which must have shown on his face as Joe went on with, “It was never about the job to begin with.”
“Only the position,” Alistair finished for him.
“It won’t work if we don’t feel equal,” Joe said.
“I know, I know.” Alistair slumped back against the seat. Joe’s frown shouldn’t have been encouraging, but the very fact that they were there together, in a carriage heading home, fanned the ember that had never gone out in Alistair’s soul. “Let’s take one thing at a time,” he went on. “You’ll settle in my house as my valet, and we’ll work out what to do next.”
“Honestly, nothing is going to settle until we’ve found Toby and Emma and Lily and brought the people who took them to justice,” Joe said, his shoulders loosening as he rubbed his hands over his face. “I can’t believe I didn’t see how involved Burbage was from the start.”
“Things always look clearer when you look at them after the fact,” Alistair said, his heart brimming with compassion for the man he loved beyond reason. “If I had a farthing for every time something stared me in the face without me seeing it for what it was, I’d be richer than Rothschild.”
“Yes, but that’s because you’re so good and sweet that you only see the goodness and sweetness in others,” Joe said.
The compliment settled over Alistair like a warm, summer breeze. He smiled before he could stop himself. “God, I would throw myself on you and kiss you within an inch of your life if I didn’t think the driver would hear my sighs of ecstasy and know all,” he hissed.
“Like this?” Joe breathed, then surged forward.
Joe braced his hands on the back of the seat behind Alistair, closing his mouth over Alistair’s and kissing him with a week’s worth of denied passion. The carriage was too cramped for their bodies to meld together, but that didn’t stop Alistair from reaching under Joe’s jacket to dig his fingertips into his sides. The warmth and solidity he felt there was like heaven after hell, and he gave himself over fully to their kiss, in spite of the sounds he couldn’t help but make.
“This is madness,” he panted at last. “We’re not going to be able to do this without being caught.”
“We will,” Joe promised, following his long, deep kiss with half a dozen shorter, teasing ones. “We’ll just have to be careful.” He ended with one final, searing kiss, their tongues brushing, before leaning back. “But we have to put the investigation first.”
“Yes, of course,” Alistair said. His lips tingled with the force of Joe’s kiss, his body was hot with need, and his prick strained against his trousers. “I don’t know how, though.”
Joe fell back into his seat, struggling to catch his breath. “Are you really engaged to Lady Matilda?” he asked.
Alistair blinked. That was the last thing he expected Joe to ask. “No,” he answered, then shifted awkwardly in his seat, sitting straighter. “Not yet. But it’s expected and inevitable.”
“I see,” Joe said, his jaw tight.
A flush of satisfaction raced through Alistair. Joe was jealous. “I’m supposed to see her tonight,” he said, toying with the idea of making Joe even more jealous to see what he would do about it. “We’re to dine at—” He stopped, his eyes snapping wide.
“What?” Joe asked, leaning slightly forward.
“We’re to dine at Eccles House tonight,” Alistair said.
The feeling of triumph at what he saw as a chance to discover more about Burbage’s involvement with the missing children crashed when Joe looked grimmer than ever.
“Burbage suspects something between us,” Joe reminded him.
Alistair’s confidence shattered. “Damn. How am I supposed to sit across the table and make polite conversation with the man, let alone pry for information?”
The silence between them bristled. Joe’s expression soured. “By showering attention on Lady Matilda,” he answered.
The inevitability of his marriage gnawed at Alistair’s gut as sharply as ever
. “Damn,” he said, sinking back against his seat.
Neither of them said another word as the carriage completed the journey to Mayfair. Both of them knew what fate had in store for men like them. Within the span of minutes, Alistair went from feelings of giddy gratitude that Joe had accepted the position of his valet to resentment that they were doomed to be trapped in that relationship forever.
“We need to focus on one thing at a time,” Joe said as the carriage stopped and he let himself out first. Alistair followed him out to the street, waved to the driver, then gestured for Joe to walk with him up the steps to the front door as Joe went on with, “We have to find the children first.”
“Agreed,” Alistair said, knocking, then walking through the door as the footman on duty opened it for him. He didn’t think about the propriety of Joe entering the house through the front door with him until they were already in the hallway. “My greatest hope is that we have enough information for—”
He nearly ran headlong into Darren, who stood in the hall, looking incredulously at Joe.
“What is the meaning of this?” Darren asked, glancing down his nose at Joe as though Alistair had let a stray dog into the house.
As smoothly as he could, Alistair said, “You remember Mr. Logan. I’ve just hired him as my valet.”
“Sir.” Joe nodded crisply to Darren. The practiced subservience of his bow sent a chill through Alistair.
Darren continued to study Joe suspiciously. “You didn’t tell me anything about looking for a valet.”
“Unnecessary,” Alistair said, alarmed at how hot his face felt. “Besides, you saw how good Mr. Logan was with Father the other night. You were the one who said if he ever needed a job he should turn to us. Perhaps he can be of use with Father as well tending to me.”
Darren made a considering noise, but it didn’t change his apprehensive stare. For a few seconds, the hall crackled with tension as none of the three of them moved a muscle. Darren broke the tension by sucking in a breath and saying, “You’d better hurry up and change. We’re expected at Eccles House in less than an hour.”
“Yes,” Alistair said, certain his brother would be able to hear his furiously pounding heart. “That’s just where we were heading. Mr. Logan can help me change, then I’ll have Jennings take him downstairs and introduce him to the rest of the staff as my valet.” He glanced past Darren to the family’s butler, who had entered the hall in time to witness the exchange.