Silas was unmistakable. Less coordinated than his adversary, and much less skilled, he managed only the occasional touch with the tip of his foil. His left arm flailed where the other man’s was steady and raised, and Silas seemed more intent on dodging his opponent than offering a parry. They circled each other, but the instructor was more nimble on his feet. It was clear from his actions that he was an expert with a sword, and had this been a real fight, would have cut Silas down within seconds.
‘Recover!’ the man called from beneath his mask, and they broke apart.
A warm wash of happiness came over Archer as he lowered himself to the grass, as yet unobserved. Tucking his knees to his chest, he watched as a second bout began.
The click and metallic tapping faded into the sounds of moorland birds as wheatears chirped and a crow cawed distantly. Archer rested his chin on his knees to admire the skilled swordsman, and remembered their meeting.
Due to bad weather in the Bay of Biscay, the Firebrand had docked at Plymouth later than expected. Forced to seek shelter at La Rochelle, it had waited out repairs following a violent storm, and once made seaworthy, had limped under sail around Brest before crossing the English Channel. When news of its arrival came to Larkspur, Archer, barely able to contain his enthusiasm, called for Fecker.
‘The ship is here, Andrej,’ he said. ‘All is well, and my man has put your brother up at the Minerva Inn. He is waiting for you.’
The look on Fecker’s face was worth every penny of what it cost Archer to arrange the journey. It wasn’t that the viscount liked to make men cry, but in Fecker’s case, it was an unusual sight, and one which reassured Archer that despite his strength and size, the Ukrainian was human.
‘I sorry,’ Fecker said, wiping his eye. ‘I am happy.’
‘I know, Andrej.’ Archer put a hand on the man’s shoulder. ‘I am only sorry we couldn’t locate the rest of your family.’
Fecker held him with his vibrant blue stare, studying Archer as he prepared a question. That day, his hair had been tied back in its customary fashion, but there was no plaiting. In his work clothes, he appeared as any other stable labourer or working man, but Archer knew him to be so much more than that.
‘I say something now.’ Fecker cleared his throat and looked around the room.
‘Would you like to sit?’
They were in the library, the longest room on the ground floor with a swirling staircase up to the gallery. Every wall space was filled with books, few of which Archer had read, and overhead, two chandeliers hung like glass clouds waiting to rain light on the Turkish carpets when night fell.
‘No,’ Fecker said. ‘I not clean.’
He had taken off his boots, for which Archer was grateful (he suspected that Thomas had insisted), and the Ukrainian’s socks were not the cleanest. Like his hands and everything else about him, his feet were unusually large.
‘Then what do you want to say?’ Archer prompted. ‘Because I have something to say to you before you go to fetch him.’
‘I say this.’ Fecker was known for using as few words as possible. ‘We not find sister and mother…’
‘We will keep looking.’
‘Shush.’ He also didn’t like to be interrupted. ‘Maybe we never find, but Danylo is come…’ He blinked back more tears. ‘But he is not all my family.’
‘I know,’ Archer said. ‘But I have a man on the case in Sevastopol. After there, he will try Odessa…’
‘No,’ Fecker shook his head. ‘I mean, Danylo is not all my family.’
‘You said.’ Archer was confused.
Fecker screwed up his eyes and took a deep breath. When he next looked at the viscount, it was directly and with his chin raised, sincerity boring down his long, regal nose.
‘You are my family,’ he said, and before Archer could react, added, ‘I understand. I only working man for you. I know my place. Bolshoydick and Missis Pekar tell me, but I want that you know, Sir Chysta Voda, you are my family.’
That seemed to be the end of the speech, and it was touching, even though Fecker had referred to Thomas as ‘Massive-Cock’ and Archer as Sir Clear Water. Archer allowed — no, liked — the unusual use of words that Fecker employed, but he wasn’t sure that Mrs Baker would be happy if she knew he called her Pekar. It might have been a literal translation of her name, but it sounded rude.
‘That’s very kind of you, Andrej,’ he smiled. ‘I’m not sure how we might be related, but I also think of you as much more than my horseman. My Master of the Horse is not a noble enough title for you, but it is all I have. Now…’
He was suddenly crushed in a bear hug and pulled to his tiptoes as Fecker landed a kiss on his forehead. If anyone in Archer’s circle of friends or his servants had seen, they might have feared for his safety, but Archer had come to know Fecker well and quickly. Although he didn’t show it and had never said so, he was beginning to think of the younger man as a protective, older friend.
‘Bringing Danylo here is the least I can do for you,’ the viscount gasped. ‘We must find out what he wants to do, as in, be in the stables with you, or work in the house, or even not live here at all. But we can…’ He was still being held captive. ‘You may let me go now, Andrej.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Thank you. We can look at those details when you return. For now…’ He handed Fecker an envelope. ‘In here is the address of the inn. You can show it to people when you get to the port and ask for directions. And this is a letter from me in case anyone questions who you are, or who Danylo is. Would you rather travel by railway, or take one of the carriages?’
‘I ride Thunder.’
Thunder was a large horse and strong, but it was January, and although the blizzards that had plagued the country the previous December had faded, the temperature had remained low ever since.
‘You could, but you will be more comfortable on the train, and then you will need to bring your brother back, and he’ll need a mount, so that’s complicated. I would advise the train. Williams can drive you to the station. Here’s money for the fare, and for the inn.’
‘I pay.’ Fecker said, refusing the notes.
‘No. This was my Christmas present to you.’ Archer pushed it into his hand. ‘And we will say no more about it. Go and pack, and I’ll have Thomas ask Williams to be ready.’
‘I love you.’
‘Honestly, Andrej,’ Archer said, stepping back from the threat of another crushing hug. ‘For a fellow who prefers women, you do an awful lot of hugging and kissing of other men.’
Fecker smiled a goofy grin full of teeth. ‘Is because you are brother,’ he said, taking a step forward and not taking no for an answer.
‘Well, alright, but then go and…’
The last words were squeezed from him with his breath, but Archer relished the contact and hugged the Ukrainian in return. Not because he found Fecker sexually attractive, but because he appreciated the friendship. Such manly embraces had been missing from his childhood, as had the word love, and he took every opportunity to enjoy them now he was an adult.
‘There,’ he said, with an air of finality. ‘Be ready in an hour, and return by Monday or I shall worry.’
Fecker returned on Monday bringing Danylo with him. Apparently, there had been much celebrating and drinking over the two days he was in Plymouth. Two brothers reunited after ten years of thinking the other was dead was a good reason to drink vodka for forty-eight hours straight. Luckily, they were both recovered and sober when Danylo was presented to the viscount.
He was not what Archer had expected.
‘You must riposte.’ His voice was deep and commanding, and the shout brought Archer back to the grassy bank and the sight of his lover’s fencing lesson. ‘Show me again. En garde.’
Silas took up a position and lifted his arm
ready to parry.
‘Block… Don’t retreat, idiot!’
‘Don’t call me a fecking idiot, you eejit.’ Silas’ riposte came with words rather than his foil, making his instructor laugh.
‘Parry like this. Now you show me.’
Silas did as he was told and blocked an advance.
‘And now you riposte.’
He jabbed forward too hard and stumbled.
‘And there is where I cut your head from your body.’ Danylo’s accent was rich as his words unfolded from his mouth. His English was more assured that his brother’s, but his accent was the same. ‘We go again. En garde.’
‘Hang on a bit, mate,’ Silas said, shaking his head and bending to catch his breath. He pulled off his mask and let it drop. ‘I’ve had enough for one day.’
‘You’re coming on well,’ Archer called as he stood and came down the bank. ‘How long have you been at it today?’
‘About three bloody hours,’ Silas panted.
‘Just one.’ Danylo stood to attention when Archer joined them, and his hand flew involuntarily to his forehead in a salute.
‘There’s no need for that, Danylo,’ Archer said, but he returned the salute out of deference to the man’s custom.
Standing to attention with his shoulders pulled back, Danylo was not much taller than Silas. Where his younger brother was six foot four, Danylo was at least half a foot shorter and not as broad. Having worked first as an infantryman and then as a stevedore, he had strength and stamina, showing no signs of breathlessness despite an hour of sport. Unlike Fecker’s golden hair, his was a blond-brown mix the colour of caramel, and where his brother’s eyes were gemstone blue, Danylo’s were an unusual shade of amber. Apart from their voices and their love for each other, it was hard to imagine the two were related.
‘Will you train, My Lord?’ Danylo asked.
‘I actually came to ask Mr Hawkins if he wanted to ride into the village,’ Archer replied.
‘Why? What’s on?’
‘Nothing particularly. I thought we might meet Thomas on his return and take tea.’
‘Fecks has gone to collect him,’ Silas said. ‘You just want to see me fall off a horse, don’t you?’
‘I haven’t seen you do that for some weeks now.’
Archer resisted the temptation to put his arm around Silas and kiss him. It grew harder to resist every day, but with the Hall bearing down behind, and with Danylo present, it was inappropriate.
Danylo was aware of the situation at Larkspur, Fecker had explained everything. How Silas and Archer were a couple in private, and why Thomas shared quarters with James. Danylo said he didn’t deserve an opinion, and although he didn’t understand, he accepted the arrangements and harboured no prejudice. How could he when he was a foreigner in a strange land, and a liberated man indebted to his rescuer?
‘I must work,’ he said. ‘If there’s nothing you need me for, Sir?’
Archer studied the man, marvelling at his near-fluent use of English. He had learnt it while in the military serving alongside a British battalion for several years during the Black Sea troubles, and then with British sailors in the port of Sevastopol. It was one of the reasons it had been so easy for Archer’s contact to find him; not many Ukrainians spoke English.
‘No, thank you, Danylo,’ Archer said. ‘But tell me, are you still happy with your duties?’
‘Happy, Sir? Why would I not be? I live with my brat, I have this to look at…’ He waved his arms towards the back of the Hall. Rising to four floors, the pitched roofs were lower than the height of the tower which kept watch majestically over the ruined abbey and grounds. ‘You have given me land to work and a trade to learn.’
‘And the work is what you want?’
As well as giving Danylo a plot of land where he grew vegetables for the Hall, Archer had made him the assistant gamekeeper under Jack Trelevan, a man a whose health was never at its best.
‘Yes, Sir. I grew up on a farm. It is what I would be doing now if the Russians hadn’t stolen it.’
‘But you are sure you’re happy here?’
‘Why? You want me to leave?’ Like his brother, Danylo was prone to jump to conclusions and be direct.
‘He doesn’t mean that,’ Silas said, landing a hand on Danylo’s shoulder. ‘He fusses that he’s not doing enough for people.’
‘Sir,’ the Ukrainian said solemnly. ‘You could not do any more for me or my brat.’ He bowed, but looked up sharply with narrowed eyes when Archer laughed.
‘I am sorry,’ the viscount said. ‘It’s the way you call Andrej your brat.’
‘It means brother in my language, Sir.’
‘Yes, I know, but it still tickles me to hear it.’ Aware that the Kolisnychenko brothers were sensitive and proud, Archer added, ‘I mean no offence,’ clapped his hands together and said, ‘Right! Vu khochete chayi?’
Danylo smiled sympathetically. ‘Chayu,’ he corrected. ‘No, thank you, My Lord. I will have tea later. I must work the land.’
‘Of course,’ Archer said, and nodded, dismissing him.
Danylo collected the equipment, and after a final short bow, left the ruins and jogged towards the stables.
‘What do you think?’ Archer asked, when he was out of earshot.
‘About?’
‘Danylo.’
Rolling down his sleeves, Silas collected his jacket from where he had hung it on a broken column. ‘I like him,’ he said. ‘I think everyone does.’
‘He’s adjusting to our way of life?’
‘If you mean, he’s got used to living among secret queers, yeah, he’s about used to it as he’ll ever be.’ Silas rested on the column beside Archer. ‘Fecks explained everything that first night in Plymouth,’ he said. ‘Least, that’s what he told me. He repeated it all on their journey back in January in case they’d been so slaughtered he’d forgotten anything, and Danny got the wrong end of the stick.’
‘You call him Danny?’
‘He doesn’t mind.’
‘Would he accept it from me?’
Silas shook his head. ‘He more than appreciates what you’ve done for him and Fecks,’ he said, his sapphire eyes twinkling in the sunlight. ‘But he expects to work in a great house for a nobleman, which is what you are, of course, but I don’t reckon he’s yet up to the level of acceptance as, say, Jimmy.’
‘James is one of us.’
‘Aye, but Danny’s different. As straight as a railway track, right down the middle.’
‘Tracks have curves and points,’ Archer countered. ‘No man is perfectly straight.’
Danylo disappeared behind the stable yard wall, and Archer felt a nudge on his elbow. When he looked, Silas was grinning mischievously with one eyebrow raised.
‘Fancy him, do you?’
If truth were told, Archer did. He also found Thomas and James attractive, but no-one compared to the cheeky Irishman beside him. Silas’ soft features and full, lush lips were as arousing now as the first time Archer had seen them, but behind his beauty lay a character as passionate as it was devoted, and there was no way he would sleep with anyone else. The idea had crossed his mind, but when he imagined being unfaithful, he immediately suffered crippling guilt intensified by the realisation that the man he pictured was Thomas.
‘You’re blushing, Archie.’
‘I’m catching the sun.’
‘Yeah, right.’ Silas sighed and leant closer. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘Danny’s sexy, I’ll give him that, and he’s bloody good at what he does. I don’t blame you for fancying him. You’re not alone.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Archer queried.
‘Not me, you eejit,’ Silas chuckled. ‘Iona. You’ve got one chambermaid hot to trot with him, and Lucy still sick in love with Fecks. On t
op of that, Karan’s now got this thing for Barnaby.’
‘Barnaby, the footman?’
‘How many other Barnabys live here?’
‘He’s no more than nineteen.’
‘He’s twenty-one, actually. Jesus, Archie, I swear you live in your own little world.’
‘So, Barnaby’s not on our crew either?’ Archer almost sounded disappointed.
‘I thought you’d given up fancying the footmen,’ Silas sniggered. ‘I don’t know. You want me to ask him?’
‘Hell, no, but it would be good to… Never mind.’
‘Good to what? Have a house full of queers?’
‘Mr Hawkins,’ Archer said, returning his lover’s sassy grin. ‘I only have eyes for you.’
‘Aye, I know, but you have a bone-on for half the men on the estate.’
‘I do not!’
‘A big, thick and throbbing bone-on at that.’
‘Don’t be disgusting. No. I meant, it would be good to be able to help other men who are like us, as we do in Greychurch at the Foundation. To give similarly disposed men good jobs in a safe environment where they can be themselves without fear of prejudice.’
‘You do that anyway. Whether they’re as bent as us or as straight as Danny’s railway track, all your staff are well looked after.’
‘It’s good to hear you say it.’
‘It’s true, Lover. And I don’t mind you looking at other men, Archie.’
The words were said with a hint of sadness, but Archer knew them to be true.
‘I don’t want to be unfaithful to you, Silas. And I shan’t be. I just couldn’t.’
‘But you wouldn’t mind from time to time.’
‘No!’ It was a lie that needed explaining. ‘Alright, I admit it, I do look at other men, and all I have to look at are those around me. You know Thomas and I have always been close, and being as honest as you are, our friendship, when we were young, often threatened to become something more carnal. I find James physically appealing in his angelic yet manly way, and yes, Danylo is more attractive to me than Andrej. But even if I took Thomas’ elegance, James’ physique, Danylo’s mystery, and dare I say it, Barnaby’s innocence, and put them all together in one ideal man, he would still not measure up to you.’
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