The coat was long in the back, but cut only to the waist in the front, leaving the entire length of Dominick's lower body exposed. Thankfully, for the sanity of both Alfie and the greater female population of London, Mr. Bonheur still favored a cut of a trouser that was looser in the front. If he had given in to the new fashion of inexpressibles, Alfie would probably have been under arrest within minutes for unnatural acts.
However, Alfie went from wanting to thank Mr. Bonheur to wanting to shoot him as his eyes traveled further downward. The trousers had been cut on a bias, and clung to Dominick's legs like a second skin, showing each swell of perfectly defined muscle as he shifted from foot to foot. Stirrups that went under his feet kept them pulled perfectly taut the great length of his legs.
Dominick began to fidget with the buttons on his coat; real silver, Alfie could tell, not the cheaper pinchbeck. There was silver threading along the pockets of the waistcoat as well. Whoever they were stealing this suit from, he had opulent tastes.
“Quit that,” Alfie murmured without taking his eyes off Dominick's body. He knew he was staring but he couldn’t help it. Whether it was that the fineness of the outfit finally matching the fineness of the man or just a reaction to the tightness of the material, Dominick looked more handsome than any man Alfie had ever seen. Despite his nervous fidgeting, the way the coat pulled Dominick’s shoulders back implied an unquestioning authority, and the sleek fit of the suit displayed all the reasons why such authority was deserved. With his old shapeless and dirty clothes replaced with these fine new ones, Dominick wasn’t so much a man transformed, as a man revealed.
No matter how dry-mouthed his appearance made Alfie, he was still the same Dominick, and Alfie still couldn’t help teasing him a little.
“I suppose you’ll do.”
He then turned and took pity on Mr. Bonheur. “He looks quite well; I applaud your ability to do such excellent work under such adversity. We’ll take this now, and perhaps two more suits to order?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dominick startle, but pressed on. “Perhaps one in black and the other a dark brown?”
“That should suit all occasions, my lord.”
“Excellent.” Alfie couldn’t help himself. “Throw in one in navy as well. Also I believe half a dozen waistcoats should be variety enough. I trust your judgment when it comes to fabric and colour. And as many pairs of stockings, shirts, and the like as you deem necessary. Mr. Trent will be in London some time before returning to Cornwall, and I would like him to be comfortable.”
“In that case, I would recommend a night shirt and an overcoat as well.”
Alfie nodded. “Very sensible. Does that work for you, Mr. Trent?” Alfie turned to Dominick who just spluttered, before turning back to Mr. Bonheur. “He’s right, practicality over fashion when it comes to the overcoat if you please. Those coastal winters are rather frigid.”
“Very good. It should take me no more than ten days, perhaps two weeks at the most. That is, if my sons and I are able to focus exclusively on your order.”
Alfie sighed. Would Dominick even be around in two weeks? Or would they have found the blackmailer by that time? He was swiftly realising that he would do anything to keep Dominick with him in whatever way he could, but if he wanted to leave Alfie and go back to his old life, Alfie couldn’t stop him.
“Have the pieces delivered as they are completed then, and add the express fee to my bill. I think that should be all.” He nodded at Dominick. “Don’t forget your boots.”
Dominick scrambled to put his old boots on. They looked completely out of place with the rest of his ensemble. Alfie checked his pocket watch. Almost time for luncheon, but if they were going to buy Dominick boots and gloves to match his new wardrobe, it would be better to do it before the afternoon crowds.
He closed the watch. He’d have to get Dominick one of those as well at some point. And cufflinks. Perhaps to celebrate Alfie's attacker being put behind bars. Or for their first Christmas together.
He could just imagine it. The holly over the mantle in his study. The bemused look on Dominick's face when Alfie pulled out the small box, protesting that Alfie shouldn’t have gotten him anything. The way his face would light up when he saw the silver—no gold, to match his hair—cufflinks.
He’d extend his arm, clad only in shirtsleeves but wrapped up in one of Alfie's robes against the cold. And Alfie would carefully attach the cufflink for him, teasing Dominick only a little with a few brushes of his fingers against his pulse.
Dominick would growl and pull him in for a kiss that began fierce but melted into tenderness. Alfie would kiss him back, not with the desperation of a man who must take such things if he could get them, but with the sweetness of one who knows his affections are returned and has all the time in the world to enjoy them. He would start whispering things about tie pins and watch fobs just to hear Dominick laugh, then Dominick would push him onto the couch and give Alfie his own Christmas gift in return.
He came back to himself when Mr. Bonheur held out a paper wrapped parcel towards him. Alfie had a moment of panicked confusion. It couldn’t be Christmas already? Surely it was still spring.
“My lord? What would you like me to do with Mr. Trent's old clothes?”
As tempted as Alfie was to burn them, he knew his dream of Christmases to come and a life together was just that, a dream. Dominick would return to his old life eventually. There would be nothing left to tie him to Alfie, save money. But Dominick was too independent to want to lounge about like some sort of mistress, waiting for Alfie to give him funds. And when he did go back to his life, he would need his old clothes.
“We’ll take them along, thank you,” Alfie said, and looking over to make sure Dominick was ready, took the bundle and walked out the door.
✽✽✽
“You’re uncharacteristically quiet,” Alfie said as they bounced along in the carriage.
Finding Dominick boots, gloves, a hat, and the small frivolities that every gentleman needed to maintain his appearance had taken visits to several shops. Alfie took great delight in picking out items that were not just functional, but were of the highest quality available and would keep well for as long as Dominick wanted them. And when the time came, the fineness of the items would make them easy for Dominick to pawn, ensuring his comfort long after he had left Alfie's side. He liked knowing that he’d still be able to help Dominick, even if he wasn’t with him. But Dominick had hardly said a word the entire time.
“I’ll never be able to repay you for these,” Dominick whispered to the floor of the carriage. He had an expression on his face, not quite sadness. It took Alfie a moment to realise what it was. Shame.
“Dominick, no.” Alfie leaned forward, crestfallen. This was the opposite of what he had wanted. The tall, regal man who had stood in Mr. Bonheur’s shop was gone, replaced by the boy who had only one pair of trousers and a shirt to his name. Alfie hesitated, then took the risk and reached across the coach, taking one of Dominick's hands in his own. Dominick finally looked up at him.
“I’m not buying you these because I expect any sort of repayment. I’m buying them because you need them if we’re going to be able to work together to find my attacker without drawing unnecessary attention. If it helps, think of them as a uniform. A footman doesn’t have to buy his own uniform, his master does that for him.”
Dominick glared at him and tried to pull back his hand. Alfie clutched it tighter. “I’m sorry. Poor choice of words. A constable doesn’t have to buy his uniform either.”
Dominick still looked dubious, so Alfie tried again. “Fine. You do need the clothes for my plan to work, but I also bought them for you because you are my friend and I can. I have been blessed with a very fortunate life, and if I can spread some of that good fortune to those who are close to me, I will.”
Dominick was silent for a long time, long enough that Alfie began to feel awkward still sitting there holding his hand. Surely this was not within the ac
ceptable bounds of men’s behavior. But he refused to let go unless Dominick pulled away.
“You still consider me your friend? I thought you were just saying that to Mr. Bonheur because it was the easiest lie.”
Now it was Alfie's turn to be shocked. “Of course you are! That is, I assumed…”
“No, no,” Dominick smiled and gave Alfie's hand a gentle squeeze. “I like it. I’m honored to still be your friend, Alfie.”
Alfie squeezed back. They sat like that for another moment, before a wheel struck an especially deep pothole and they were forced to break apart to brace themselves against the sides of the carriage. Once they had settled, Dominick leaned back as comfortably as he could in the seat.
“Am I supposed to feel like a sausage with too much stuffing?”
Alfie laughed, “You see why I stay in as much as possible.”
“Mm,” Dominick agreed. “And why you’re always in that robe thing, it looks much more comfortable.”
Alfie didn’t know that Dominick had even noticed his banyan. He decided to test the waters. “I’ll have to buy you one then.”
Dominick waved a hand. “You’ve spent enough. Even for a friend.”
“Very well, you can just borrow one of mine,” Alfie agreed. Dominick hadn’t seemed upset with the idea of Alfie buying him more things, just dismissive. Good. They rode several more blocks in silence, but while he had been waiting for Dominick to try on all his new garments, Alfie had remembered something that had been bothering him for years. Now, in the friendly quiet of the carriage as it trundled along, seemed as good an opportunity to ask as any other he would get.
“Dominick, all those years ago, did you start the fight with Baz on purpose?”
Although he made no outward movements, Dominick’ posture, which had been relaxed, went rigid. When he finally spoke, it was in a voice devoid of all emotion.
“What makes you think that?”
“Because if my parents hadn’t seen the two of you fighting, I know they would have chosen him over me, and I was wondering—have been wondering for quite a long time—if you did it on purpose.”
Dominick shook his head slowly. When he finally looked up at Alfie, the humor and light from earlier was gone.
“You think you owe all this to me. You don’t. I’m not that good or that clever, Alfie. That fool was just a stupid bastard who didn’t know a good thing when he almost had it. You don’t owe your life, your money, or any of this to me.”
“I do, though!” Alfie shouted, frustrated. Just when he thought he was starting to know Dominick, the man pulled back again, and claimed not to be the person Alfie thought he was.
“Fine! Baz was an idiot and it was just my good fortune to take his place. Good fortune that I wouldn’t have been around to receive if it hadn’t been for you! Who kept me from freezing to death? Or starving? Or being beaten to death by the other boys or falling into the machinery? You did that. You may claim not to be good, Dominick, but that is a bald-faced, beef-headed, fuck-faced bastard of a lie.”
“You still sound like the slums when you’re angry.”
Alfie slammed his cane against the carriage floor. “Go be hanged! You think any of this is worth anything? My life. Would you trade that suit of clothes for it?”
Dominick looked at him as if he was mad, a fool, or both. “Of course not.”
“What about for all those other clothes today then? And the fine boots? And a silk banyan with water lilies or dragons or fancy women dancing on the sleeves if that’s what you want. Would you trade those for my life?”
“Never.”
The rumble of Dominick's voice as he said the word sent a chill through Alfie at the same time as it gave him the courage to finish what he had to say.
“Then I’m still in your debt. You may not think you’re good, Dominick, but you are. Everything in my life I owe to you, and the good you did. So if I want to call you friend, or buy you a dozen shirts, please, please let me. Because I wouldn’t be alive to do those things if it wasn’t for you.”
Eventually Dominick nodded, but there was something in his eyes that Alfie couldn’t understand. Maybe it would just take some more time. Alfie had said what he needed to. Dominick would either come to believe these things for himself or he wouldn’t.
“With all that in mind, if I invited you to my club for lunch, would you go?”
“Yes.”
“Would you hate it the entire time?”
“Yes.”
Alfie huffed. “Would you hate it if Mrs. Hirkins made us sandwiches at home instead?”
“No.” Dominick hesitated. “But only if I can borrow a banyan.”
Alfie smiled. “There’s an extra one in the closet of the blue bedroom upstairs. You can keep all your extra clothes in there, if you’d like. And if you’re too tired from being a living doll, feel free to take a nap as well. The room hasn’t been used in years, it can be yours too.”
“Don’t push your luck.”
Chapter 14
The next few weeks were the happiest of Dominick's life.
Each morning he walked the few miles from his lodgings to Alfie's townhouse, arriving just in time for Mrs. Hirkins to sigh wearily at him and tell him to make himself useful and carry in the breakfast tray. And each time he walked into the dining room with the tray, Alfie looked up at him and smiled. Even on the most wet, cold, and miserable days it was like watching the sun rise just for him.
After a leisurely breakfast, Dominick would go up to the blue room to change into what he and Alfie had started calling his “dandy duds” before making their plans for the day. Most of those days involved going out to follow whatever leads they came up with.
Some leads were more useful than others. Dominick had been proud of his idea to have Alfie go to his solicitor’s office to see if any of his business contracts matched either the paper or writing on the letter, on the chance that the attacks were related to those. They hadn’t found anything, but it still felt like progress. Alfie's idea to go for a ride in Hyde Park seemed more like an excuse to show off his driving skills in his phaeton than it was to try and flush out the villain. It had been fun though, clinging to the side, whooping like a bedlamite while Alfie raced the horses faster and faster until they were nearly flying down the paths.
And each night Dominick changed back into his regular clothes and retraced his steps to his lodgings, going over the day in his mind and tucking the most precious moments away for later, after Alfie didn’t need him anymore. But even thoughts of that eventual future couldn’t dampen his spirits, and he fell asleep each night smiling and eagerly awaiting the day to come.
In all that time, a handful more letters arrived, all saying the same thing, I know what you are. Even before Alfie said anything, Dominick could tell when another was delivered by the worry that creased his brow. He spent those days sticking even closer to Alfie’s side, his hand clenched into fists, ready to fight.
But when no demands were made, nor any more attempts made on Alfie's life, they both began to relax. In all those weeks, the greatest danger Alfie was in occurred when his doctor, a man named Barlowe, came to remove his stitches.
Even then, the danger had not come from the medical man himself, who seemed imminently competent, but from the risk that Dominick, seeing Alfie without his shirt for the first time, might be unable to restrain himself. Alfie was lithe and lean, his chest pale from being kept hidden from the sun—which was an absolute crime.
Dominick had been doing well at keeping his baser impulses in check until the point when Alfie turned a bit to give the doctor a better angle, and the light slid down his smooth chest and caught, glittering on a trail of dark red hair that started just above his trousers and disappeared tantalizingly below. Dominick had turned tail and woodenly walked away with a mutter about fetching something to settle both doctor and patient. But when he reached the sideboard, he found himself unable to remember why he was there at all and the doctor unfortunately left without
his drink.
Afterwards, Alfie had smiled at him as he rebuttoned his shirt, and suggested that since there was too little time left in the day to accomplish much detecting, they could wander over to Montagu House to see the new Egyptian busts instead.
Dominick was almost able to trick himself into believing this was his life now, spending every day in the company of a warm, funny, irresistibly beautiful man and never having to worry about where his next meal was coming from, or whether his next fight would be his last, or what degrading things he would be forced to do in order to pay his rent. He got to go all over London in his fancy clothes with his charming friend by his side and without a care in the world. It was not a life he could ever actually have, but for those few weeks, he could pretend.
It was the happiest time of his life, so of course it had to come to an end.
✽✽✽
Dominick woke early, and decided to go by The Barge and see how Jimmy was doing before making the long walk over to Alfie's. He hadn’t seen his friend since the morning after the fight, and any time he went too long without saying hello, it seemed like Jimmy’s wife Maeve had another baby in the interim. They had four of the little ones by now, and Dominick worried if he waited too much longer, the number might grow to five.
“Well, look what the cat drug in!”
“‘Morning to you too, Jimmy.”
“Get over here by the light, let me see your face.”
Dominick let Jimmy turn his face this way and that. Dominick knew from the many mirrors in Alfie's home that the bruising had finally faded to almost nothing, just a slight yellowness if someone looked at him in the wrong light. Jimmy hummed, seemingly satisfied, before poking Dominick sharply in the ribs.
“Fuck was that for?” Dominick flinched, grabbing his side and backing away.
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