The deceased was found still in possession of his pocket watch; however, he had no money on his person. It is assumed that this upstanding member of society was brutally attacked but his murderer or murderers perhaps being interrupted, had time only to grab his pocketbook. Finding the poor soul’s address therein, they then continued their night of terror, ransacking the dead man’s house. Albeit as yet, no connection has been confirmed...
Alfie put the paper down. His hands were shaking too hard to read any further. His cousin dead? And murdered the same night he and Dominick had broken into his home? Good lord, they were the team of criminals! Had he been recognized? Were officers of the law even now climbing the front steps to arrest them both for burglary and murder?
Everything started to go a bit grey around the edges.
“Easy, there, easy. Deep breaths.” Alfie found himself tipped forward, a warm hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. The new position brought his nose just inches from the paper in his lap. The accusing words began to swim before his eyes. He snapped them shut and tried to focus on his breathing.
“There now, in and out. Christ, what a shock.”
Alfie felt the paper being taken from his lap. There was a long period of silence broken only by his still too rapid breaths.
“What’s ‘impodent’?”
He looked up to see Dominick squinting at the paper closely, mouthing the words as he read.
“What?”
“‘Impodent’. It says ‘the impodent thieves that robbed your cousin’s house.’ I want to know what they’re saying about us.”
“It’s pronounced ‘impudent’,” Alfie groaned, dropping his head again in misery. “It means bold, shameless, cheeky.”
“Well, that’s fair enough then.”
“Dominick.”
“No, I see. Your cousin’s been killed and they think it might have been the same ones who robbed his house that did it. Although we know it wasn’t because that was us. I’d say I’m sorry for your loss, but I’m not. If I hadn’t been spending every moment of that night by your bed, praying you’d live to see morning, it might have been me that got him. After what he did to you, I’m inclined to put the word out that I’ll stand a round at The Barge for the ones that did.”
Alfie could barely focus on what Dominick was saying. His cousin was dead. He knew he should probably feel some sense of remorse, but all he felt was relief. Reginald had been an awful man. A crude, self-absorbed bully. He’d made everyone who’d met him miserable. And that was even before he’d tried to blackmail and kill Alfie.
No, he would spare no tears for his cousin.
It was not his grief that had sparked such a reaction when he saw the article. It was partially the shock, of course, but mostly fear. If someone realised he and Dominick had been the ones to ransack his cousin’s home that evening, would they believe that the two of them were murderers as well?
Most likely he would suffer little consequence, perhaps have to go live on the continent, though that was no great loss. But Dominick? Dominick would hang. No matter how much Alfie spent on his defense or how many bribes he paid, the murder of the heir to an earldom by a commoner? And once word got out that Dominick had been a male prostitute there would be nothing Alfie could do.
His vision began to swim, the edges going grey. Then there was an almighty whack between his shoulder blades.
“I said to breathe, Alfie. Not to work yourself into a fit. Here.”
Dominick climbed onto the bed and leaned back against the headboard, manhandling Alfie to sit between his legs. In this position, Alfie could feel Dominick’s strong chest pressed against his back. He tried to relax against it, matching the rise and fall of Dominick’s breaths with his own. It was as if Dominick was breathing through him, a part of Alfie’s own body. Steady and sure and as vital to life as his own heart and lungs.
“I see you managed to get me back into bed,” Dominick said several minutes later.
“I did,” Alfie chuckled weakly. “Sorry. I just started to worry—”
“That Bow Street might somehow connect us to the burglary and think we were the murderers too?”
Alfie nodded.
“I thought as much. Listen, when they get here, just stay calm.”
“What do you mean, ‘When they get here’?” Alfie cried.
He tried to turn around, but Dominick’s arms kept him locked in place. He struggled, but only weakly. In all honesty, he very much needed to be held right now. His world was spinning apart and Dominick’s embrace was the only solid thing left.
“You’re a lord and your cousin’s just been murdered. For certain, there will be a constable or two showing up to break the news gently. Not often do they get the chance to gander at a lord’s house. Reporters will show up too, I'll wager, but you won’t want to talk to them. Remember, no one at your cousin’s house got a good look at us, and no one would ever expect an earl to be a cracksman. You’ll do fine. Just try not to say anything to the constables about how if anyone deserved to be shot in a dark alley, it was him.”
“Stabbed,” said Alfie. “I suppose he deserved to be shot too, but the article said he was stabbed. Well, had his throat slit, to be precise, but I’d rather not envision it.”
Dominick suddenly stilled, arms locked around him.
“Dominick? What is it?”
“Nothing,” said Dominick eventually. Alfie turned his head. He could make out little more than Dominick’s profile at this angle, but his features were rigid.
Dominick spoke slowly, “I was just thinking it might be best if I clear out for a bit. I shouldn’t be here when the constables come by anyway, and it’ll give me a chance to look into a few things.”
There was something wrong with the way he said it, but Alfie couldn’t quite pin down what.
“Very well,” he said, aiming for a nonchalance he didn’t feel. “Will you be back early enough for supper or shall I have Mrs. Hirkins prepare something that can be eaten cold?”
Dominick gave him a tight squeeze and then slowly let go. “If I’m going to lie low and avoid arousing suspicions, I can’t just be sneaking back here for meals like an alley cat. It’ll be best if you don’t see me for a while, maybe a few weeks. That’ll give the fuss plenty of time to die out and me time to figure out what I need to.”
A few weeks? Alfie was speechless. Surely all Dominick had to do was go to the pub for a few hours until the constables had come and gone. His cousin was dead and with him, the blackmail, death threats, all of it was over. Alfie wanted to take Dominick out for dinner or to Vauxhall, something to celebrate the occasion, but instead Dominick wanted to leave him on his own for weeks?
If he ever comes back. A niggling doubt began to creep into the back of his mind. Alfie tried to ignore it but couldn’t help the sharpness of his words. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing!” Dominick fired back. “Listen, you hired me to protect you, didn’t you? So the less you know, the less you’ll have to lie about if asked. Now go get dressed. I’m sure the constables won’t appreciate the sight of you in your altogethers as much as I do.”
Alfie jerked out of bed and stalked across the room, suddenly furious. He flushed with both anger and embarrassment as he struggled to put on the first thing he could find. His banyan. Of course it was that fucking banyan. He tried to tie it but couldn’t find the belt so he just wrapped his arms around himself to keep it closed. That he must look like a blushing maid only rankled him further.
“Get out,” he snarled. He barely restrained from stamping his foot. Dominick was already keeping him in the dark and ordering him about like he was a child, it would hardly do to act like one.
“What’s got your knickers tied up in knots all of a sudden? All I’m saying is that it isn’t always getting dressed in fancy clothes and eating costly dinners, sometimes looking out for you means keeping things from you. Things that won’t do you any good and would only hurt you to know.”
D
ominick looked oddly solemn as he spoke. Then he shook himself and laughed, “Keeping you from getting hurt is what you’re paying me for, after all.”
Alfie felt like he’d been slapped. He had honestly forgotten all about the money. It had just seemed so natural when they were spending time together. He had money, Dominick didn’t, so of course he would pay. And of course he’d offered Dominick a salary when he’d first hired him, but it wasn’t as if Dominick was his servant…
Hired him. He had, hadn’t he. He’d hired Dominick to be his bodyguard. Not his friend or-or whatever they had become. His heart sank to his stomach. What he had thought they had become.
His mind went back over the weeks. It wasn’t as if there had been much for Dominick to actually do as a bodyguard, had there? No wonder then that he took Alfie up on any distraction, whether it was a lunch at his club or sharing his bed. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time Dominick had slept with a man for money.
Alfie began to feel sick. Is that what this had been to Dominick? A distraction? A way to kill time? Or worse, had Alfie somehow led Dominick to think that pleasing him was a part of his duties? Alfie was sure he hadn’t been particularly subtle in his desires, and after the way they had met, Dominick could have easily assumed that sleeping with Alfie was an unspoken part of the arrangement. Alfie had been the one to instigate that kiss in the kitchen and everything that had happened after. Had Dominick really been responding to his advances, or just reacting?
Alfie felt a fine tremor begin in his hands as his anger turned into guilt and shame. At best, Dominick might have considered their time together a bonus of his employment. At worst, he just saw Alfie as another in a lifetime of men who had paid to use him.
Either way, it was a good thing he was asleep when Alfie told him he loved him. He would have looked like such a fool.
“Take whatever money you need and go,” he snapped, ashamed of himself. He turned away to face the fireplace so Dominick wouldn’t see him blink the tears from his eyes.
“Alfie? What—”
“And take whatever else you’re owed as well. If my cousin is dead then the danger is over. I won’t need a bodyguard anymore and this has all just been a colossal waste of everyone’s time. You know where the money is in my desk. There’s a hundred pounds in there. That should more than compensate you for your services.”
Alfie stared down into the cold grate of the fireplace. He’d have to let Mrs. Hirkins know to expect visitors today. Which room would be best for receiving a constable? The drawing room was the obvious choice, but considering the occasion perhaps the library would be a more somber option?
He kept his eyes locked on the grate and pretended he wasn’t straining to hear every one of Dominick’s fading footsteps echoing through the house. He managed to hold himself together until he heard the awful finality of the front door click shut. Then he sat down on the floor and wept.
Chapter 25
Dominick set the empty tankard down with a thud and slid it across the bar. He’d hoped the first pint would drown the self-pity and disgust, but it hadn’t. Neither had the second. Or third.
He felt like a whore. Strange that he could bend over in any number of back rooms and never feel so dirty as he had when Alfie had turned his back on him and told him to take his money. He’d thought… He didn’t know what he’d thought. Alfie had hired Dominick for a job, knowing what he was. And now that he no longer had need of Dominick’s services, he had dismissed him like all his other unneeded servants. He should have known it was coming. Alfie didn’t even keep live-in staff, of course he wouldn’t want Dominick hanging around when he was no longer required. And as for the rest…
Dominick fingered the fine material of his shirt cuff idly. He had gotten more perks out of the job than he’d expected: fine meals, well-made clothes, even just the chance to spend weeks out of the mud and stink of Spitalfields. So he supposed it was fair enough that Alfie got to take some perks out of it as well.
The memory came to him of Alfie smiling up at him from the bed sheets, eyes bright and hair in hopeless disarray.
He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. He was moping. And what was worse was that he was moping about moping. He should have just enjoyed his time with Alfie, taken his money with a smile and a “Thank you, milord” and gone on his merry way. But instead he’d become attached. He was like the lowly farm-girl in one of the stories he used to tell, who fell in love with the handsome prince in the castle. But instead of ruling side-by-side and living happily ever after, he was back in the dirt where he belonged.
And thanks to his damned pride, he didn’t even have anything to show for it but the clothes on his back. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to take Alfie’s money from the desk or even his new clothes from the closet. As if not getting paid made it more meaningful somehow. It did, to him anyway. Christ, he was a wreck.
“Another pint!”
“Don’t you be taking that tone with me,” Maeve McVitie came out of the kitchen with her arms crossed. “You may have the look of a kicked dog but that doesn’t mean I won’t give you another kick if required.”
He sighed. “Please?”
“That’s better.” She waited, drumming her fingertips on her elbow. “Coin?”
He searched through his pockets. There was nothing in them but a handkerchief wrapped around a few crumbled bits of bacon and crushed toast, and a button he’d picked up off the floor this morning. He’d meant to return it to Alfie, to tease him about whether it would be worse to try to fix it himself or try to explain to Mrs. Hirkins exactly how it had come loose.
He shook the handkerchief out over the bar and held it out to her. “Will this do? It’s real silk.”
Maeve pursed her lips and gave him an unreadable look. She then snatched the handkerchief from his hand. But rather than pouring him another round, she marched into the kitchen. A minute later she was back, the handkerchief tied up neatly in a small package that smelled of mince pie.
“Go on, get out of here,” she said brusquely, but not without a touch of warmth. “You’ve had enough already and it hurts my heart just to look at you. Won’t get a single paying customer in here with you sighing and drooping all over the place.”
He nodded and took the handkerchief back. The warmth of the food inside had already begun to seep through the material. She held her hand on it a moment before letting go, her mouth open as if to say something else, then shook her head.
“And not a word about that to anyone,” she sniffed. “I have a reputation to maintain.”
✽✽✽
Back on the street, Dominick noticed that the morning had gotten well into the afternoon while he’d been in The Barge. His stomach, now used to regular meals at set hours, rumbled. He picked apart the knot on the handkerchief. The pie inside looked just as good as it smelled. He smiled faintly. He’d never be able to introduce Maeve to Mrs. Hirkins. They’d probably be able to overthrow the Empire if they combined their efforts, but at least it would be a well-fed revolution. He bit into the pie while he considered his next move.
He still had a few coins saved up in his rooms, he wouldn’t starve just yet. And he’d get a good price trading in these clothes to a barker for a more useful set. It would be hard to go back to coarse and ill-fitting duds after all this, but he’d have to get used to it. And after that? He tried to plan his next steps, but the nagging thought that he had unfinished business would not let him focus.
There was still St. John’s killer to deal with.
He cursed under his breath. An idea had been growing for a while now, but he hadn’t wanted to worry Alfie, not until he knew for sure. He rubbed at the heavy ring hidden under his shirt.
If St. John had been killed by a random footpad just for being unlucky enough to choose the wrong dark alley for a tryst or a piss, then there wasn’t anything to worry about—the blackmail was truly over and Alfie was safe. But if he had been killed by someone else, someone who was quick with
a knife and knew how to blend into the shadows of the city and disappear just as quickly? Someone who knew where to find St. John, had perhaps even planned to meet him? Someone who had been his accomplice in Alfie’s blackmail and attempted murder? Then that person was still out there, and still just as much a danger to Alfie.
Dominick shook his head. He’d loved Alfie his entire life, had once watched him go and been glad, knowing that he would spend the rest of his life safe and happy because of Dominick’s actions. It was the same now. He still loved Alfie, and even if Alfie didn’t love him back, it didn’t matter. Dominick would still act, would still protect him. He would likely never see his love again, but he could do this one last thing to make sure he was safe.
And then?
He groaned, wiping the last traces of pie from his hands and tucking the handkerchief back neatly into his coat pocket. He would deal with “And then” when it arrived. For now, he had a murderer to catch.
✽✽✽
Hours later, he stumbled up the steps to his rooms, exhausted and footsore. He’d trod half the city, turning over every rock and rookery for the vermin he sought, but the man had apparently gone to ground. Dominick was tired and miserable, and wanted nothing more than to collapse into a large, soft bed with clean sheets and freshly laundered pillows that smelled faintly of lavender.
His shoulders relaxed at the memory of such luxuries, enjoyed only hours ago and not truly appreciated while he had them. He tried to steer his mind away from the direction those thoughts led, but eventually gave up. He was too tired to fight anymore. He let the fantasy unspool in his mind as he reached the unlit landing, counting the steps to his door by memory.
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