by Merry Farmer
Niall stood near the cabinet where he’d found the necklace they’d given to Ian to serve as the medallion, hands behind his back, shoulders squared, face implacable, looking as masculine as possible.
Blake laughed as though the idea were ridiculous. “Who made these reports?” he asked, but rushed quickly to, “Please have a seat, gentlemen. I see my excellent staff have already provided you with tea.” Indeed, a tea set sat on the table under one of the windows.
“No, thank you, your grace,” the tall officer said, his brow knit into a frown. “We cannot divulge where we received our reports, only that we were charged with investigating and making arrests, if warranted.” He turned to Niall. “Are you Mr. Niall Cristofori?”
“I am,” Niall answered without moving from his position.
“We were told that you are a known sodomite,” the second, stouter officer blurted, scowling at Niall in disgust.
Niall shrugged. “Who told you that?”
“Mr. Archibald said—”
“You are known to associate with all manner of men through your theatrical connections, are you not?” the first officer cut the second off.
Niall grinned, in spite of the fact that his heart raced with danger and fury at Ian. At least they had proof of who was behind the whole thing now. “I am a renowned playwright,” Niall answered with a shrug. “I am friends with a dozen or more actresses with interesting reputations as well. Does that make me a rake?”
“Er, it’s just that—”
The first officer scrambled to come up with a way to counter Niall’s statement, but he was interrupted by a woman’s raised voice from the hall, saying, “I know they’ve just returned. It was a happy coincidence that I arrived moments after they did. I must speak with Lord Selby. To apologize, you see.”
“Oh, God,” Blake blurted, pressing his fingertips to his temples just as Lady Inglewood marched into the room, a hapless Charles trailing behind her.
“I’m so sorry, your grace,” Charles hissed, but it was too late.
“Lord Selby, please allow me to extend my deepest, deepest apologies to you for the other night.” Lady Inglewood swept into the room, hands outstretched toward Blake, ignoring the officers. “I’m afraid I was in my cups, as the saying goes, and grossly in the wrong to come here. Though I was flattered by the way you welcomed me.” She arched an eyebrow and cast a coquettish grin to Blake’s trousers.
Niall nearly snorted into laughter at the sudden turn of events. Lady Inglewood was a menace, but she was also exactly the Deus ex Machina they needed at that moment.
“You were here the other night?” the first officer asked, thoroughly confused.
“I’m afraid so,” Lady Inglewood answered with a low, sheepish laugh.
“It was a private incident,” Blake said, taking Lady Inglewood’s hand and patting it. He went so far as to gaze fondly at her to help the narrative along.
Both officers stood where they were, mouths hanging open, looking as though a prank had been played on them that they had yet to fully figure out. Niall thanked God that he didn’t have to say or do anything to help Blake prove his innocence. The more he stayed out of things, the better. And while he was at it, he made a few mental notes for scenes in future plays.
“There must have been a misunderstanding at some point,” the first officer said at last, standing straighter and tugging at his jacket as if to save face. “The matter needs further investigation, but—”
“Where are they?” a new shout sounded from the hall. “Selby, you bloody, cheating sod, where are you?”
Shock at hearing Ian’s voice rattled Niall. He had just enough time to step back before Ian charged into the room. Once again, Charles trailed behind the new arrival, red-faced and desperate, as though he’d let another situation completely escape his control.
“You lying thief,” Ian continued to shout as he marched up to stand toe to toe with Blake. Lady Inglewood yelped and rushed to Niall’s side, as though he could protect her. “What is this?” Ian raged on, holding up the necklace they’d attempted to pass off as the medallion.
“It’s the medallion you wanted.” Blake jerked away from Ian, maintaining a look of utter bewilderment, in spite of the fact that they absolutely had cheated Ian out of what he wanted. In fact, underneath his pretend shock, Blake looked overjoyed.
“This is a piece of rubbish,” Ian growled, throwing the necklace to the floor. “I want Professor Carroll’s medallion.”
“What is Professor Carroll’s medallion?” Lady Inglewood whispered as she clutched Niall’s arm.
Niall didn’t get a chance to explain.
“That’s it.” Blake gestured to the necklace on the floor, then added with perfect, feigned innocence, “Isn’t it?”
“No, you buggering bastard, it isn’t,” Ian exploded. “Where is the real thing? That’s what I want, or you’ll be sorry.”
“Where is my son?” Blake demanded, taking a step into Ian. “Did Annamarie and Alan sail without you?”
“No, we were prevented—” Ian stopped, his face pinching as if he’d made a mistake. “Give me the medallion.”
“Give me back my son,” Blake demanded, the light of victory in his eyes. “Or would you care to explain to these officers from Scotland Yard why you are holding my son hostage against his will?”
Ian took a few stilted steps away from Blake, glancing to the officers.
“We weren’t aware there was a kidnapping involved in this case,” the tall officer said, his expression going flat.
“I hope you see now that the accusations that were made against the Duke of Selby were false and born out of a personal grudge,” Niall said, hoping to turn the tables completely. “Mr. Archibald is the one who should be arrested.”
“He’s the criminal.” Ian pointed at Blake.
“What accusations?” Lady Inglewood asked at the same time.
“Lord Selby and Mr. Cristofori have been accused of gross indecency,” the second officer answered, though he no longer looked certain.
Lady Inglewood gaped at Niall, then at Blake, then burst into laughter. “Oh, good heavens, what a ridiculous notion.” She clutched her chest as she laughed. “Lord Selby is a married man, sir,” she told the officers, looking down her nose at them. “And he has sired three children. Everyone knows that that sort of man is infertile.”
Niall’s brow shot up before he could school his expression. He’d all but forgotten that was a common misconception that had existed for centuries about their sort.
“And as for Mr. Cristofori,” Lady Inglewood went on with a cheeky grin. “I wager Miss Yates would tell a different story about his proclivities.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Rumor has it that she spent the evening here after making Mr. Cristofori’s acquaintance at a supper party last week.”
“She was rather nice,” Niall said, grinning, heat rising to his face, but not for the reasons Lady Inglewood or, hopefully, the officers, would suspect.
“What?” Ian barked. “This is ridiculous. And it’s a waste of time.” He turned back to Blake. “Hand over the medallion or you’ll never see your son and heir again.”
“Did you hear that, gentlemen?” Blake stepped toward the officers, fury bright in his expression. “Mr. Archibald has just threatened my son.”
The officers exchanged a look, as if deciding whether to act on Blake’s words.
“It was not a threat.” Ian’s face lost all color, and he backpedaled toward the parlor doorway. “The boy is with his mother. She has every right to take him to visit her family in America.”
“But she has not left yet,” Blake rounded on Ian, marching toward him. “Has she?”
“No, but—”
Ian stopped, seeming to realize he’d tipped his hand at an important moment. Blake looked both triumphant and ready to murder him.
“You will not take Alan out of the country,” he said, marching to stand toe to toe with Ian again and lowering his voice to a hiss. “
If you so much as dare to look at a ship, I will move heaven and earth to make your life a living hell. If Annamarie returns Alan to me, I will grant her a divorce with whatever sort of settlement she wants, provided the two of you leave England forever once it is finalized. My children will stay with me. All of them. Do I make myself clear?”
Ian cowered as Blake spoke, but once Blake finished, he straightened and cleared his throat. “I want that medallion. Hand it over now and I’ll have Alan sent back immediately.”
Blake’s confidence faltered. “I don’t know where it is.”
“You…what?” Ian barked.
“It was given away years ago, to a traveling theater company,” Blake admitted. “It could be anywhere.”
Ian gaped at him, his face going red. At last, he snapped his mouth closed and growled, “Then you’d better hope you find it before I do. I’ll trade your stupid boy for the medallion, but if I find the medallion before you do, Annamarie and I will be on the first ship to New York.” He leaned closer to Blake and murmured just loud enough for Niall to hear from where he and Lady Inglewood stood, “And you’d better hope the lad is a good swimmer.”
The threat was so evil that Niall gasped and balled his hands into fists as he surged toward Ian, intent on beating the man senseless. Blake lunged for him, but Ian anticipated the move and dodged out of his way. He didn’t stop with one lunge, and turned to flee from the room as if he knew full well he’d gone too far.
“Go after him,” Blake ordered the police officers. “The man just threatened the life of my son.”
“He didn’t exactly—” the second officer started with a wince.
“We don’t have jurisdiction here,” the first officer said with a guilty look.
“You were threatening to arrest Lord Selby and myself for gross indecency, but you don’t have the jurisdiction to stop a kidnapper?” Niall demanded, marching up to the first officer.
“We were sent with a specific mission,” the man replied, shrinking away.
Niall shook his head in disgust, then turned to follow Blake, who had rushed after Ian as soon as he saw the officers wouldn’t.
Ian managed to stay just enough ahead of them as he dashed down the hall, out the front door, and into the carriage that was waiting for him. Blake attempted to run out in front of the carriage—as though he could stop a team of horses with his bare hands—but Niall pulled him back and held him steady.
“You heard what he said,” Blake roared, attempting to shake out of Niall’s grip. “He intends to harm Alan. And he didn’t even tell us where he and Annamarie are hiding.”
“He won’t hurt your son,” Niall tried to reassure him, even though he was just as furious and would have flown after Ian with pistols drawn, if he could. “Remember what Greta said. He views Alan as a bargaining chip. He won’t harm your boy, or risk Annamarie’s wrath by doing so, until he has what he wants.”
Blake whipped to face him as the sound of Ian’s carriage faded into the night. “We have no idea where the medallion is,” he said through a clenched jaw.
“We’ll find it.” Niall grabbed the sides of Blake’s face, forcing him to calm down and look into his eyes. “We’ll find it,” he repeated, “like we found each other again after all these years. Nothing, not even ourselves and the mistakes we’ve made, could keep the two of us apart. We are meant to be together. You know that.”
Some of the struggle went out of Blake’s tense muscles. He swayed closer to Niall, letting out a breath and bowing his head when Niall moved his hands to Blake’s shoulders. “I know,” Blake said. He rested a hand on Niall’s waist for a moment before giving up whatever resistance he had and pulling Niall fully into his arms. “I know,” he repeated, then buried his face against Niall’s neck.
Niall was vaguely aware that they were being watched from the doorway, likely by Lady Inglewood, the officers, and who knew how many members of Blake’s staff. He hoped the high stakes of the situation would be enough to explain away the embrace. In case it wasn’t, he took a step back from Blake, but held his gaze when Blake glanced up and met his eyes.
“We’ll go to London immediately,” he said in a low voice so that no one overheard. “We’ll take the girls and put them somewhere safe. I don’t trust Ian not to come after them if he thinks he can use them to get what he wants from you as well.”
Blake nodded, desperation in his eyes, but also trust. “You’re right.” He paused and shoved a hand through his wild hair. “We can’t stay at Selby House in London. Ian will expect us to be there, and God only knows what he’ll try to throw at us if he knows where we are.”
Inspiration hit Niall. “I have friends. Lots of friends. The Brotherhood will be able to help us with everything.”
“The Brotherhood.” Blake nodded. “You mentioned them before. They’re…they’re men like us.”
“They are,” Niall said. “There are places where we can stay hidden and where we can be together without anyone so much as raising an eyebrow. We’ll be able to keep the girls safe there as well. We can call on old friends to help find that bloody medallion and to ferret out Ian and Annamarie. You remember John Dandie and David Wirth?” Blake nodded. “David and his partner, Lionel, are able to accomplish impossible things for our sort all the time. They can help. And John has just returned to London to open a law office, but he has contacts all over the country. Between the two of them, we will beat Ian at his own game, I swear.”
Blake let out a breath and grabbed Niall’s hands, squeezing them tightly. “Niall, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He stepped closer, his gaze dropping to Niall’s lips for a moment before darting over Niall’s shoulder to their audience. He glanced back to Niall and said, “I love you.”
“And I love you,” Niall whispered tenderly in return. “Come what may, I’m never leaving you again, whether you want me to or not.” His mouth twitched into a grin and deep affection filled his heart. “We’re going to make a life together. You, me, and the children. We’ll defy the odds to make a family, no matter what it takes. Between your title and my fame, they won’t dare to question us or tear us apart. Never again.”
“Never,” Blake agreed, twining his fingers through Niall’s. “The world is changing so much these days anyhow. Why not change it to suit us?”
“You know I would kiss you right now if I could,” Niall replied with a saucy grin.
Blake grinned in return. “Then let’s get rid of Lady Inglewood, make sure the girls are in bed, then go to bed ourselves,” he whispered.
Niall was all for the plan. It was as mad as could be, and the two of them were likely to land in every sort of hot water in the years to come, no matter what they did, but it would all be worth it now that they were back in each other’s arms.
Epilogue
The scene backstage in the Concord Theater after the premier performance of Love’s Last Lesson was one of utter chaos. John Dandie had to dodge chorus girls in enormous dresses, stagehands carrying enormous set pieces, and Everett Jewel’s enormous ego to reach the dressing room where he was told he would find Blake and his girls. The mood was excited and jovial after the smashing success of the performance. Niall had sent John a ticket to the sold-out show and requested his presence backstage afterward to help with a thorny problem, and after what he’d just seen, John was certain every paper in London would be singing Niall’s praises in the morning.
But John knew he wasn’t there to sing anyone’s praise. He’d been paying attention to the events of the past fortnight, gleaning information when and where he could from friends and professional connections. As soon as he’d heard the news that Castleford Estate had been sold to Danny Long and would be converted into a convalescent home for members of The Brotherhood suffering from nervous exhaustion, he knew Niall’s mission in the north had been successful and Blake was back in the fold. He wasn’t at all surprised when he turned the corner into the dressing room to find Blake and his daughters playing cards at a small table, B
lake’s son nowhere in sight.
“You haven’t changed a bit, your grace,” John said with a broad smile as he strode into the room.
“John.” Blake put down his cards and leapt up from the table, crossing to close John in a friendly hug. “It’s been too long,” he said when he took a step back, smiling. “And don’t bother with the whole ‘your grace’ bit. I never liked it when my friends were that formal. And besides which, we’re supposed to be in hiding.”
“We’re hiding from Mama and that horrible Mr. Archibald,” Blake’s older daughter said as she and her sister watched John suspiciously from the table.
“I won’t breathe a word,” John promised them.
He studied Blake for a quick moment. It’d been ten years since he’d last seen the man. He’d aged, but not badly. In fact, Blake was even more handsome than John remembered him to be. More than that, in spite of the dire circumstances John had heard about, Blake looked happy and content.
The reason for that look of happiness walked into the dressing room a moment later. The second Niall entered the room, Blake lit up like the sunrise. His girls relaxed as well.
“John. You made it.” Niall walked over to shake John’s hand, then said to Blake, “I told you he would come.”
“I never had any doubt.” Blake grinned and shifted to stand by Niall’s side, resting a hand on Niall’s back.
John fought not to grin at the obvious affection between the two, just as they had been at university, only more confident.
“Congratulations on a truly excellent performance, by the way,” John said to Niall. “Another triumph.”
“We saw it yesterday, during the dress rehearsal,” Blake’s younger daughter said. “Jane and Katie and all the other girls came to see it too.”
John’s brow flew up, and he sent a questioning look to Niall.
“Stephen Siddel’s girls,” he explained. He glanced to Blake, swaying toward him and taking Blake’s hand. “We’ve taken up residence in Darlington Gardens, Earl’s Court, two doors down from Stephen and Max’s orphanage. Greta and Jessie have become fast friends with some of the girls.”