‘You remember anything else?’
‘Yeah, Jimmy, I do.’ Silas twisted in his seat. James wasn’t certain but it looked like he too had been crying. ‘He threatened to destroy his reputation unless he did what they tell him. Him and “Them others” the same. You can guess who she meant. It’s blackmail. Simple and deserved.’
‘Except with the gala coming up, and his speech, His Lordship’s charity, their association?’
‘Now you see why I’m so bloody angry.’
James understood completely, but where Silas was furious, he was intrigued.
‘Why pick a random homosexual and drug him…’
‘I am not a homosexual!’ Roxton protested louder at the accusation than he had at his rough treatment. ‘I’m married.’
‘And so are half the men who fu… fumble with messenger boys,’ James said, unimpressed. ‘But it doesn’t matter. If they think you are, and they’re prepared to say it publicly, you’re the one in the dock, Mr Roxton.’
‘I shall fight it.’
‘Of course. But you’ve got to ask yourself, why you? It doesn’t matter if you’re queer or not, you were at that house.’
‘If they expose me, they will expose themselves.’
‘They’re clever enough to find a way not to,’ James reasoned. ‘I mean, they’re clever enough to kidnap you in plain sight.’
Roxton moaned. ‘I’m ruined.’
‘Not yet you aren’t. Not if we help you.’
Silas shrugged off Fecker’s arm, but not his watchful gaze and turned, glaring.
James wanted him to be sure where his loyalties lay, and they were not with the snivelling, indignant opera singer trembling beside him. ‘Not for him,’ he explained. ‘For His Lordship.’
Silas understood and faced front.
The immediate problem was how to get Roxton home without attracting the attention of Lady Marshall or her servants. Her nephew couldn’t very well turn up naked apart from his overcoat.
‘Fecker,’ he said, tapping the man on the back. ‘Take us to Clearwater Mews.’
Fecker nodded.
‘Why?’ The suggestion had added to Roxton’s nervousness. ‘I can’t face Archer. I can’t face anyone. How am I going to sing?’
‘Last of your worries, mate.’ Silas laughed.
‘We’ll find you something to wear.’ James took hold of Roxton’s arm.
He was confused, upset and above all, terrified. He might not be Silas’ favourite person, but he was a man in need of help. James had heard the Good Samaritan story so many times it had soaked into his psyche. Each time his mother read it aloud, she explained it wasn’t the influence of some higher power that changed lives, it was the influence of ordinary people lucky enough to be in a position to help those less fortunate. James firmly believed that, and this was his chance to put her preaching into practice.
‘We’ll find clothes,’ he repeated. ‘You can go home without arousing suspicion. I suggest you go straight to bed, say nothing and lay low until the performance.’
‘I have rehearsal with the maestro.’
‘Then go if you are up to it, but don’t stop off at any dodgy pubs in Soho.’
Roxton shook his head like an admonished schoolboy. ‘But then what?’
‘Leave us to think about that,’ James said, squeezing his arm to show support. ‘We’ll work something out.’
He could think no further than reaching Clearwater House, being rid of the man and having a drink. He also had Thomas to consider, and then there was the viscount.
Roxton regarded him with empty eyes, hollowed and black-ringed. ‘Who are you?’ he whispered.
‘Just a footman, Sir. Here to serve the best interests of my master.’
Under instructions from Silas, Fecker drew the trap to a stop outside Clearwater Mews and waited while James checked there was no-one in the yard. Finding it empty, he beckoned to Silas but kept one eye on the back door, looking out for Thomas. The coast clear, they smuggled Roxton into the coach house where Fecker and James tended to the horse.
Mr Roxton was still shivering and wretched, and Silas’ anger still simmering.
‘Right, Roxton,’ he said. ‘I expect you need a good sleep. Fecks will come home with you, by the back door. He can explain to the Russian man, what’s his name?’
‘Oleg,’ James said.
‘Explain what?’
‘To keep his mouth shut,’ Silas said. ‘Go up the backstairs, straight to your room, and say nothing about this.’
‘What if someone sees me?’
‘I’ll cut throat.’
Roxton blanched visibly as Fecker handed him a pair of trousers and some shoes.
‘He’s joking, Roxton. Look…’ Silas sat the opera singer on a stool and crouched to him. ‘I’m being as nice as I can to you at the moment, but I’m still not convinced that was your first time at that house. So, you’re going to have to prove it to me.’
‘Who are you to make threats?’ Roxton bristled as he dressed. ‘My father is…’
‘Yeah, I’m sure he is, mate, but he ain’t going to help you here. I am, though I don’t know why I should.’
A hand on his shoulder and a gentle pat from James tempered his annoyance.
‘I shall go now.’ Roxton made sure his coat was buttoned. ‘You will, of course, not say anything about this to anyone.’
‘Can’t help you there,’ Silas said. ‘Archer needs to know, and before you say anything, he’ll know what to do. You go home and think what these instructions are that you already have. If you come up with anything, tell us in the morning.’
‘Us?’ Roxton questioned.
‘Yeah, all of us.’ Silas indicated James, Fecker and the house. ‘You’re lucky I didn’t trust you, Mr Roxton, and that I have the luck of my Irish mother. Otherwise, you might be a lot worse off than you are now.’
‘Don’t trust me?’
‘Okay, I might accept that you didn’t know anything about it, ’cos that was how you sounded, so what we’ve got to do now is work out what the hell that lot at Cleaver Street are playing at, why you, and what next. The person to do that is Archer.’ He turned to Fecker. ‘Fecks, mate, will you walk him home? You can translate if Oleg or the others ask him anything.’
‘We’ll finish with Emma,’ James said, patting the horse.
‘Please, Mr Hawkins.’ Roxton was suddenly contrite. ‘I implore you not to do or say anything. I am putting this incident down to mistaken identity, and intend to ignore it. Thank you for your assistance, all of you, but here is where the matter ends.’
‘I can’t allow that.’ Silas stood his ground. ‘It could affect Archer and his Foundation. He has to know.’
‘In which case…’ Roxton’s tone changed again and he became haughty. ‘I suggest you consider the laws of slander and how easy it is for a leading light of the opera to withdraw from an unpaid performance at any moment.’
The threat was obvious, but Silas paid it no attention.
‘Good night,’ he said and nodded to Fecker.
Once Fecker had led Roxton away, Silas helped James unbridle the horse. He hadn’t done it before and was forced to forget his anger and concentrate on instructions. Strangely, the manual task helped him think more clearly.
‘What did you tell Thomas?’ he asked.
‘Said you wanted me with you on a visit, that’s all. He won’t ask me anything else. We don’t talk about your business when we’re alone.’
‘Not worried about that,’ Silas said. ‘Just making sure you’re not going to get in trouble.’
‘I won’t, but what about you?’ James turned the horse to its trough, and Silas gave the animal a wide berth.
‘I’ve got to tell Archer,’ he said.
‘It’ll be fine.’
‘What do you reckon it’s all about?’
‘That’s a hard one, mate.’ He closed the bottom half of the stable door leaning on it and using it as a barrier between him and the horse. ‘I can only think it’s ’cos Roxton’s been in the papers lately, and with this gala coming up, he’s a good target for blackmail.’
‘But you said he’d been at that house before?’
‘Yeah, maybe.’
Silas tried to picture the man he had seen in August. He had been a similar height to Roxton, and well dressed, neither of which were specific enough to make a positive match. He couldn’t remember the voice too clearly, but it had been well-spoken, like so many other men in the city, although croaky as if the man had tonsillitis. There was, however, a similarity in the presence, the way both men stood and carried themselves. ‘If it was him,’ he said, thinking aloud. ‘Then there’d be a reason Stella wants to get his own back. You know, give him some of the same treatment, the flogging. She said something like that.’
‘That makes sense,’ James agreed. ‘And people who run brothels probably know criminals they can pay to drug and kidnap a man. Might as well try blackmail while you’re about it.’
‘Yeah, but blackmail how? Roxton’s got to do as they say or they’ll… What? Tell the newspapers he’s queer and into flogging boys who dress as girls in their own shag-shop?’
‘The papers would love that.’
‘But he was right. They’d land themselves in it along with him.’
‘Which the news sheets would lap up even more.’
‘Right, so that doesn’t make sense.’
‘If not expose him to the press, then what?’ James asked, freshening the horse’s feed and water.
‘That’s the thing.’ Silas stood back to let him work. ‘He said something about exposing Roxton and his kind, or the rest, or something as if there were more people they wanted revenge on.’
The horse seen to, James closed the stable doors and hung his lantern on a hook to light Fecker’s way home. ‘Maybe things will seem clearer in the morning,’ he said.
‘I can’t make sense out of this, but Archer will.’ Silas sighed. ‘Only thing I’m not so sure about is how to tell him why I was spying in the first place.’
James threw an arm around his shoulder and gave him a brief hug. Silas instinctively returned the gesture and was reassured. They walked to the back door, and it wasn’t until they reached it that they realised they were still holding each other.
The footman coughed and stepped away. ‘You’re tired, Sir,’ he said. ‘Shall I go up and prepare your room?’
The switch was instant and prompted Silas to change his attitude.
‘No, don’t worry,’ he said. ‘And thanks for your help.’
‘At your service, Sir.’
Silas smiled, though he doubted James could see it in the dim light. ‘Come on, mate,’ he said. ‘Let’s get back to our menfolk.’
Fifteen
Silas found Archer in his study, reading by the dying fire, at least that’s what he first thought. He hung back at the doors watching, and it took Archer a time to notice. He was frowning, considering some matter in the distance and not the printed page, but when he realised he wasn’t alone, his face brightened.
‘Thank God,’ he said. ‘I was worried. Had a good time?’ He put the book aside.
‘I need to speak to you.’ Silas thought it best to get it over with.
Archer stood, his concern deepening. ‘What’s happened? I can see it on your face. Are you alright?’
Silas went to him, and they kissed. ‘I missed you,’ he said. ‘How was your dinner?’
‘It didn’t happen. Here…’
Archer led him to the couch where they sat. He wanted Silas to lie in his arms, suggesting they watch the fire die before going to bed, but Silas sat beside him holding his hand.
‘I know,’ he said.
‘Know what?’
‘That Roxton didn’t turn up for your dinner.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Archie,’ Silas said, ‘I want you to listen and not say anything until I’m done. You might not like what I have to tell you.’
Archer was quizzical. ‘Go on,’ he said, his brow furrowing. ‘What’s happened?’
Silas told him the story, beginning with, ‘I owe you an apology,’ and ending with Fecker taking Roxton home. Archer listened, his face unmoving until the story was finished.
It was hard to tell his lover that he didn’t trust his friend and had gone behind Archer’s back to discover the truth. He said he hadn’t gone to spy, but wanted to put his mind at rest, and Roxton had been lucky that he had. Silas’ heart was thumping, but the viscount was interested more than outraged, and showed no signs of anger.
‘Good Lord,’ he said as if had received a report of bad weather. ‘And you did all this without talking to me first?’
‘That was the part I was bothered about,’ Silas admitted. ‘I didn’t want to worry you, but I didn’t what to lie to you either. I did go out in the trap, and James came with me, so that part was true. I just didn’t tell you where I was going. I expected to be back before you, having learnt nothing. I would have told you either way.’
Archer’s smile was sad, and he nodded. ‘I know you would,’ he said. ‘And I’m not angry with you. How can I be?’ He smoothed Silas’ hair, and Silas nuzzled his face into the hand.
‘You mean it?’ he asked.
‘Yes. I’m concerned, but because you are unhappy.’
‘I should have spoken to you first.’
‘I would have told you that you were imagining things,’ Archer said, pulling Silas to him. ‘But I probably would have told you to go and then worried about it all night, so you spared me that.’
He was calm, and Silas didn’t detect any resentment or anger.
‘He said he was drugged?’ Archer clarified.
‘Yeah, and I have to admit, he did sound it when he woke up.’
‘Explains why he didn’t show at the club.’ Archer turned Silas to rest against him, put his arm around him, and kissed his head. ‘I can’t be angry with you,’ he said. ‘And I’m not. But I might be angry with Cadwell if this is true.’
‘It’s true. I saw him there, and the lad said they had given him instructions. He said he didn’t know why they took him or what they were talking about.’
‘And who are they?’
‘Don’t know. Danvers and the men who use the house, I suppose.’
‘Why would they randomly kidnap anyone?’
‘Blackmail.’
‘Blackmail?’ Archer considered that for a moment while he stroked Silas’ arm. ‘He’s only an opera singer, not a politician or a peer.’
‘James reckons it’s because of the gala.’
‘Did James see him there?’
‘No. Well…’ Silas paused to put his thoughts in order. Archer’s reaction had taken him by surprise. Where he expected anger, he received passive understanding, and, if it was needed, forgiveness. The list of things to love about the viscount grew every day, and although his ability to instantly forgive was already there, Silas mentally underlined it and shifted it to the top. ‘James caused the diversion,’ he went on. ‘He thought I was in trouble. I wasn’t, but he was just in time. Roxton would probably have been beaten more otherwise. We picked him up on the way back, so no-one saw him at the door.’
‘And no-one saw you?’
‘There was nobody about, and I kept my head down. And Roxton’s.’
Archer’s grip tightened, and his hand slipped to Silas’ hip. ‘How do you feel?’ he asked.
‘Me? I’m alright. How about you?’
‘Confused. I need to s
leep on this news and come back to it in the morning.’
‘Have I disappointed you?’
‘Not at all,’ Archer said. ‘Roxton has, possibly. If he’s innocent, then it’s a different matter, but either way, he’s still in trouble whether it’s of his own making or not. As his friend, I need to help him. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.’
‘Sorry.’
‘For what?’
‘I’m not jealous.’
‘I didn’t think it for a moment.’
Archer shifted his weight so that Silas could lie with his head in his lap. He lay looking up at Archer, feeling the heat of his groin and the press of his crotch against his head. Archer played with his hair with one hand while the other idled on Silas’ stomach.
‘You are beautiful,’ Silas whispered.
The viscount’s gaze was far away. He was still lost in contemplation, but as his fingers circled gently over Silas’ shirt, they travelled down until his hand was flat against the front of his trousers. Beneath him, Silas felt Archer’s cock stiffen, and his instantly did the same.
‘Everything will become clear in time,’ Archer said.
He looked at Silas, his brown eyes misty, and his mouth held in the same sad smile. Silas stroked his face, Archer’s stubble rubbing against his palm. As his fingers passed his lips, the viscount caught one and held it in his mouth. Around it, his smile grew into a leer.
‘Is that all you can think about?’ Silas smirked.
‘It’s your fault for being so damn gorgeous.’
‘Even though I went behind your back?’
Archer’s grip strengthened around Silas’ cock, now pressing urgently inside his trousers. ‘You didn’t,’ he said. ‘You did what was best, and you’ve told me. That’s an end to that matter, but not an end to this mystery.’ He bent to kiss Silas on the forehead.
‘I love you, Archie.’
Suddenly, the viscount’s mood changed. He lifted Silas into a sitting position, stood, laid him down and knelt by the couch.
Unspeakable Acts Page 15