He winked. “Or so I’m told.”
They both rose, and Alfie started to panic. If he was going to proposition Dominick, now would be the time to do it. He could say something about how they had shared before, so there was no reason to dirty up two sets of bed sheets. Or perhaps he could blame the weather. Wouldn’t those beds—with their feather downs and piles of blankets—be far too cold to sleep in on a cool spring night? Best not to risk it, they would just have to share. And wouldn’t you know, Alfie just couldn’t remember where he kept his nightshirts… How long could Alfie keep up the charade before Dominick grew fed up and threw Alfie on the bed and had his way with him just to shut him up?
Or maybe the direct approach would be better. All he had to say was, “Dominick, fancy a tumble?” and see what happened. They might even laugh about it in bed later that night, or even years down the road, shaking their heads at Alfie's boldness before falling back into each other’s arms.
Summoning all his courage, Alfie opened his mouth to speak.
“You go on ahead. I’ll take the tea tray back to the kitchen and make sure everything’s locked up.”
He cursed himself for a coward and picked up the tray just to have something to do with his hands.
It was for the best, really. Years down the road. What a ridiculous notion. As if Dominick would want to have him even once, never mind to keep him for years and years. He swept out the door before he could have second thoughts. A faint “Goodnight, Alfie,” followed him out.
After he had emptied the tea pot and set everything in the sink, Alfie went around and checked the latches on all the doors and windows, and made sure that the fire in the study would not accidentally catch the house ablaze. Then he went and checked it all again. Only when he was finally certain that there had been plenty of time for Dominick to go up to bed and fall fast asleep did he finally let himself go upstairs.
His feet dragged over the lush carpeting and stopped of their own accord at the door to the blue room. He forced himself to continue down the hall, locking his bedroom door behind him.
It was several long hours of staring at his darkened ceiling, listening to the rain wash in sheets against the glass, before he was finally able to fall asleep.
Chapter 17
When Alfie awoke, he felt more rested than he had in years. He was astonished to discover that he had slept through most of the morning. Drawing back his bedroom curtains, the rare sight of a sunny day greeted him. The rain seemed to have washed away the last dreary greys of winter, leaving behind a bright world full of possibility.
As he lathered his neck to shave, Alfie realised he was singing. Rosemary Lane. Well, no question of where his mind lay this morning. Although he hoped he hadn’t been singing too loudly. Doubtless Mrs. Hirkins had heard worse, but he would rather not face her judgmental looks if he had heard him singing such a bawdy ditty. Or Dominick's teasing if he had. Soaping his face, he switched to humming instead. Much harder to overhear, and far safer while wielding a razor.
He was mildly surprised to find the dining room empty when he went down. Surely Dominick was not still in bed? The Times lay by his seat and he flipped through it while he waited for the lazybones to wake up and bring in the breakfast tray like he had done every morning for the past few weeks, barring whatever delayed him yesterday.
On the third page of the paper was an advertisement for a bear baiting that night. Alfie couldn’t believe their luck. He detested the cruel sport, but his cousin was all but guaranteed to attend. The fact that it was to take place in Covent Garden meant that he was unlikely to return before the early hours of the morning, if at all. Alfie heard the dining room door open, and looked up beaming.
“Good news! My cousin…” His open smile fell when he realised it was Mrs. Hirkins in the doorway instead.
“What’s this about your cousin? I’m not sure I’d consider any news of him ‘good’,” she said, setting the tray down and beginning to offload the dishes.
“Oh, he… the last time I saw him he said it looked like spring was finally here. It appears he was correct.”
“Well there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?” She slid two pieces of toast onto a plate with some eggs, then pointedly added two more, and a brace of sausages to boot. “That is if you don’t mind my saying so, Master Alfred.”
Alfie minded that she kept forgetting to call him “my lord” and instead addressed him as if he was still a child, but decided that discretion was the better part of valour when dealing with the person who prepared his meals.
Once the plate was finally weighed down to her satisfaction, she set the tea pot and a single cup alongside it, before picking the tray up again to leave.
“Is Dominick not joining me?” he blurted out.
She turned and rested the tray against the sideboard as she spoke. “Mr. Tripner left about an hour ago. He said he had some errands to run before you two went to the theatre this evening.”
“The… of course, the theatre, yes.” Alfie applauded Dominick's ingenuity. There were any number of theatres in town, each packed to the rafters. No one would be able to prove for certain that they had not been at one of them, if it came down to them needing an alibi.
He made a note to take Dominick to see something at a later date. Merely so they would be able to keep their stories straight about what they had seen. No other reason.
“We’ll probably have supper out after, be back late. No reason for you to stay here after tea. If we’re hungry when we return we can fend for ourselves.”
“That’s exactly what he said, too.” She raised an eyebrow, “He also said to let you sleep, you’d both had a few too many at the pub last night and you were unlikely to be up much before noon.”
Alfie frowned. Why had Dominick said that they’d been drinking, unless… Oh, he really was a very clever man. Alfie's heart swelled with fondness. He began to butter his toast with a feigned nonchalance. “Yes, I let him sleep it off in the blue room. In his state, I didn’t want him wandering the streets in that storm.”
“Good,” Mrs. Hirkins replied with a decisive nod. “You should do that more often. Poor thing. I don’t know where he lays his head each night, but he shows up in my kitchen every morning looking worn as an old sock and twice as fragrant. Perks right up after he gets cleaned and fed, of course, but a few decent nights’ sleep would do him a world of good.
She sniffed. “Might even make him tolerable enough to look at.”
Alfie laughed out loud. Mrs. Hirkins was the most sensible woman he knew and a grandmother a dozen times over, but it seemed even she wasn’t immune to Dominick's charms.
“Oh hush,” she scolded him in a manner that didn’t seem particularly servile. “Do you a world of good too, it would. Don’t like to think of you puttering around in this empty place all by yourself at night. Makes me lonely just thinking about it.”
She gathered up the tray and called out over her shoulder as the door swung shut behind her. “He needs the bed like you need the company. Seems like a match made in heaven to me!”
Alfie was so shocked he dropped his toast.
✽✽✽
It had been full dark for several hours. Alfie found his way down to the kitchen as soon as Mrs. Hirkins left for the day, but was growing more impatient with every hour that passed without a knock at the door. Finally, he heard footsteps coming down the servants’ stairs and threw open the door before Dominick even reached it.
“Where have you been? I’ve been cooped up in this house all day.”
Dominick sauntered in with a laugh and hefted the bag he was carrying higher up his shoulder.
“I needed to pick up some things, it’s been years since I’ve done a proper housebreaking. Do you know how hard it is to find a well priced jemmy or glim on such short notice? Never was able to find a round-about, so let’s hope I’m still as good with a screw as I think I am.”
Any reply Alfie wanted to make died on his tongue.
&nb
sp; Dominick dumped the bag on the kitchen table and began to rifle through it. “Did you find a way to get him out for the night?”
“I didn’t have to. There’s a bear baiting at Covent Gardens tonight. Gambling, violence, liquor, and whores? He won’t be home before sun up.”
“Sounds like the night we met,” Dominick said with a wink. “Here, go put these on.”
Alfie took the bundle that Dominick held out to him. It looked like a rough shirt, trousers and coat such as a laborer would wear. The coarse fabric of the material was rough against his hands and he couldn’t imagine how it would chafe against more delicate skin. It was hard to believe that these were the sort of garments he’d worn every day as a child. Of course then, he’d never had anything to compare them to and had no idea how soft and luxurious clothing could actually be. What was more unbelievable was that Dominick changed back into these clothes every night with the knowledge of what silks and linens felt like against him.
“Don’t wrinkle your nose like that. I paid good money to have those washed, and that coat is nearly new. There’s a belt in here somewhere. We’re about of a height, but I’m wider through the trunk than you are, so you’ll need it.” Dominick continued to dig through the bag, and with a noise of triumph pulled out a sturdy leather belt and laid it on top of the pile in Alfie's arms.
Alfie barely noticed as his mind had stuttered to a halt some moments before.
“These are… your clothes?”
Dominick fixed him with a look. “I’ve been flashing too much coin lately to buy a full set without the wrong sorts noticing. Wouldn’t have even gotten you a coat, but it’ll look peculiar if anyone sees you out at night without one, and the last thing you want when committing a crime is to be memorable.”
“No, of course.” Alfie said, more calmly than he felt. “I’ll just go put these on then, shall I?”
He escaped from the kitchen as quickly as he could without drawing notice to how the idea of wearing Dominick's clothes was affecting him. He laid the garments out on his dresser and stripped down to his drawers. Each time he reached out to pick up an item, he remembered Dominick at Bonheur et Fils, standing naked behind a curtain with nothing to protect his modesty because he never wore anything underneath his clothes. These clothes.
Alfie’s cock throbbed. He slipped a hand into his drawers and hissed with pleasure, Dominick’s shirt clutched in his other hand. Dominick’s clothes had covered him, caressed every part of his body kept secret from Alfie.
And Dominick had handed them over so easily, literally given Alfie the shirt off his back. Oh, but that would have been even better, Dominick stripping down in front of him, his clothes still warm from the heat of his body, slightly damp with sweat and smelling of him. Alfie’s hand slid his hand up and down his length while he raised the shirt slowly to his nose...
“What’s taking so long?” Dominick called up the stairs.
Alfie bit back a gasp at the sound of Dominick's voice. His hand flew from his drawers guiltily. How pathetic he was, to be brought to such a state just from a worn set of clothing. To be completely infatuated with the man inside them was one thing, but this was just pitiful.
“Just a moment!” he rasped.
Right, no more of that. They had work to do. Dominick had only given him these because they were necessary, not for any other reason.
The thought did little to quell Alfie’s arousal, but he determinedly ignored it, slipping the shirt over his head and reaching for the trousers. As he buckled the belt, he noticed himself turning his head into the collar and had to jerk his chin up.
Stop being ridiculous, he told himself sternly. The risk Dominick was taking tonight to help him was immense and Alfie could not be distracted by such base impulses. Besides, Dominick had said the clothes were freshly laundered, so there would be none of the scent of blood and gin—iron and juniper—that he associated with Dominick.
He felt his cock twitch feebly at the thought anyway. He leaned his head against the dresser and groaned.
Chapter 18
By the time Dominick heard Alfie's footsteps coming down the stairs to the kitchen, he had checked all his equipment and repacked the bag twice. It had been years since he had committed any major thefts, having known too many men who got themselves nabbed and hanged. He didn’t want Alfie to know how nervous he really was.
“Well, how do I look?”
Dominick turned and was struck silent. He thought he’d grown used to how handsome Alfie was, but seeing him in normal clothes, Dominick's clothes, hit him hard in the gut. It was like Alfie had been stripped of all the gilding, all the fussy ornamentation and useless decoration, and what lay underneath was even more beautiful.
Without the distractions of fine materials and glittering threads, Alfie's eyes shone like the jewels they were. His hair was copper shot through with gold, and in Dominick's rough clothes he looked like a statue wrapped in muslin to protect it on some dangerous journey.
The collar of the shirt was too wide on him. It revealed just enough of his chest and the delicate arch of a collarbone to make Dominick want to just forget the entire plan and drag Alfie down onto the floor. The portion of skin revealed had to be smaller than Dominick could cover with a single hand—a theory he now desperately needed to test—yet if it affected him this much, how would he survive seeing Alfie's entire body bared to him?
It doesn’t matter, because you’ll never find out.
The thought was like a bucket of ice water, waking Dominick from his thoughts and dragging him back to reality. As he looked Alfie over to make sure there was nothing extraordinary about him—aside from the obvious—that would stand out, he realised that this was how Alfie would look if he’d remained in Spitalfields.
If someone else had been chosen instead, and by some miracle Alfie had survived the workhouse and the streets long enough to grow into a man, this is how he would look every day.
If he had survived. It was a miracle Alfie had lasted it as long as he had; he would have never made it to full adulthood. Not sweet, open, vulnerable little Alfie. The man before him was a lie, the ghost of someone who would have died years ago had Dominick and fate not intervened.
“Boots.”
“Excuse me?”
“I didn’t think to get you a pair of boots. Those are far too fine.” Dominick sighed, shaking off his melancholy thoughts. “Still, better that you’re in a well-fit pair. Just try to walk in a lot of mud along the way.”
He slung the bag over his shoulder and walked out of the kitchen without another word.
✽✽✽
The street Alfie's cousin lived on was almost everything Alfie's was. Almost. The houses were almost as grand, the lanes almost as wide, the park almost as green. But even Dominick could tell that it wasn’t quite there.
“Here we are, number 263,” Alfie whispered under his breath.
He had done remarkably well so far, listening while Dominick laid out the plan as they walked, and answering all the questions Dominick had about the building as well as he could. He was smart enough to admit when he didn’t know an answer rather than give Dominick a guess that could get them caught. Dominick nodded, but flicked only the tiniest glance over at the house before continuing on their way. They turned at the corner and kept walking, just two men on their way home from the pub, not planning on loitering anywhere that might disturb such fine people or be noticed by suspicious servants.
“Did you see there were no lights on?”
“I did,” replied Dominick. “You’re sure the household will be asleep?”
“They know not to expect him back, so by this time they should be. I don’t know if he has a kitchen boy sleep by the front door to let him in, or if he just makes enough racket trying to get his own key to work that someone hears him anyway, but as long as we stay off the ground floor we should be fine.”
Dominick nodded. They were fortunate then, that like Alfie, St. John had his study on the more secluded first floor
rather than the fashionable ground level. As they walked over, they had decided the study was the most likely place any incriminating documents would be kept. Once upon a time, Dominick would have been able to search a room just down the hall from a sleeping servant, but he was out of practice and Alfie was completely untested in the fine art of housebreaking. But the first floor up presented its own set of challenges. Namely, how were they going to get in?
They walked around the block once more, enough that Dominick felt confident that no one was keeping a particularly watchful eye, but also not enough to draw notice from the casual observer, before going to the mews around the back. Here they caught their second bit of luck.
Alfie had been unable to tell Dominick the layout of his cousin’s carriage house, it not being an area of the home he had ever visited, and Dominick had feared the only doors would have been the large ones that allowed St. John’s coach to exit the building. Such doors would have been difficult to open without attracting attention and would have forced them to sneak through the entirety of that building before they even made it into the main home.
However, there was a narrow gate set just to the side of that door which opened directly into the townhouse’s private garden.
“Keep an eye out,” whispered Dominick before dropping to his knees. His skills with a set of lockpicks weren’t as rusty as he had feared, and it was a matter of less than a minute before he was able to push the gate open carefully, wary of squeaky hinges. Pleased with himself, he smiled at Alfie as he rose back to his feet and brushed off his knees. But the worry in Alfie’s eyes apparently left little room for awe at Dominick’s skill; he just gave Dominick a quick bob of the head before ducking ahead of him into the garden.
From there, it was simply a matter of sticking to the shadows as they crossed the small area, watchful not to step on any of the raised beds and the first delicate shoots of green they contained. If they did this right, no one would know the house had been burgled until they confronted St. John with whatever proof they found. Leaving great big footprints all over the garden would be suspicious indeed.
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