It took all of William’s effort to remain as casual as possible. He looked up briefly, as anyone might, then turned his face back down to the chapbooks and listened to the conversation.
“That was quick,” the bookseller said. “I thought I might be here long into the night waiting for you.”
“He made it easy. Didn’t push the price of the book up too much; didn’t follow anything up.”
“You’re sure?”
“Someone kept an eye on him for me.”
“So we can close the deal tomorrow?”
“I believe so, but plans may change. More support might be required.”
“Go out the back, and we will discuss that.”
Obviously they were talking about Richard, but William wasn’t entirely sure of the details. Had he not known the man’s former whereabouts, he would have assumed they discussed an expensive book and thought no more of it.
“Excuse me, young man,” the bookseller addressed him, “I’m about to close. Do you want to buy something?”
William put down the chapbook he was holding and shook his head. “I need a better look. Are you open tomorrow?”
“Noon until sundown.”
“Then I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.”
He left the shop, heart pounding with excitement or relief, he could not tell which, and began his journey back to the inn. The light was failing, and he hurried, knowing he might lose more than his way if he didn’t get back soon.
All the while, his mind turned over the information he had gained. This was something more than mere extortion, he was sure of it, but what, he could not say. Perhaps Richard would have a better idea.
Night had long since fallen when he reached the Spurre, but he had kept to the main streets and made it back safely.
Sam was gone, replaced by drunken brawlers who spilled out from the inn. William pushed his way inside and to the bar, where he ordered a jug of ale, a bowl of mutton stew, and a generous portion of bread to have in his room. He was so relieved to be back, he at first didn’t notice Geoffrey sat watching him.
His cousin approached as he carried his food through the crowd. William groaned, thinking about the lecture he was about to receive. Geoffrey had been completely silent earlier when William waited in his room, which was the best indicator that he was very angry indeed. Now he looked ready to unleash it.
Geoffrey stepped ahead and held the door for him to pass into the back rooms. “Where have you been?” he growled.
“I went for a walk,” William replied casually, grateful Geoffrey hadn’t immediately launched into a speech in the middle of the bar about the virtues of chastity.
“You went for a walk at night?”
“The sun was shining when I left. Richard has gone out, so I decided I’d make the most of my free time and explore my surroundings.”
“In one of the company’s costumes?”
William was all innocence. “Is that not allowed? I won’t do it again.”
Geoffrey rolled his eyes. “Come on, up to the room. You need to get that doublet off before you spill stew on it.”
Geoffrey navigated as they walked upstairs in the dark. The main corridor was faintly lit by small pools of orange firelight that peeked through the cracks in the doors. They soon entered Richard’s room, and William sat at the table to eat his dinner while Geoffrey built up the fire.
“You should go back to Oxford,” Geoffrey muttered as he worked, not bothering to look at William. “Have your night with Richard, make the most of it, and then go home.”
William had been expecting Geoffrey would try to send him back, and he was ready to argue. “Why leave?” he asked, as if he’d done nothing wrong. “I love it here.”
“Your prick loves it here.”
“My prick, heart, and head are all in agreement.”
“For now, but can’t you see the danger he’s put you in by sending you out spying?”
“What do you mean spying?”
Geoffrey looked over his shoulder at him. His face was in shadow, but William could hear his confusion as he said, “You know, going out looking for information.”
“Richard gave me a penny for a good dinner and told me to wait in the room for an hour before I could get it. He didn’t send me anywhere.”
“So why have you been out in disguise?”
“Because I wanted to know what’s going on. I hoped I would discover something useful that could help Richard.”
“And did you?”
“I’m not sure. I didn’t find what I expected.”
Taking a seat on a stool at the table, Geoffrey silently watched him eat. Eventually he said, “Don’t put yourself in danger again. Not for Richard.”
William hadn’t considered the danger. He thought only of his burning curiosity and the delight he would see on Richard’s face when he returned with information.
Moreover, he had no reason not to believe Richard deserved his trust. Well, no reason except the reputation of actors in general, Geoffrey’s initial warning, the behavior of his former apprentice, the even worse behavior of his former master, and then the criminal who’d interrupted them that afternoon….
Perhaps he had been a little foolish.
But he was glad he’d done it. Richard’s resolve not to have his body might be crumbling, but more would be required to win his heart, and that was William’s next target. Besides, it was fun, thrilling even. He liked playing a spy.
“You told me yesterday he was a good man,” William reminded him, clinging to the one thing Richard had to recommend him.
Geoffrey huffed, unable to deny that. “He is a good man, one of the best, even, and I would trust him with your life. But I wouldn’t trust his associates. His past is a little more colorful than yours or mine, and apparently it has caught up with him again.”
“This isn’t about his past. That man was here to collect Nick’s gambling debt.”
“Did you confirm that on your travels?”
William did not want to admit he had not, and so said nothing at all.
With a heavy sigh, Geoffrey said, “I know you think you love him, but if he cares about you at all, he’ll make you go home. He won’t want you to get hurt.”
Geoffrey was right, but even if Richard ordered him out of his life, William couldn’t go back to the village. If he returned now, he might be comfortable until his father died. After that he would find himself eking a living off a small plot of land, ending up married to some woman he hadn’t the stomach to lie with, and wishing he was in Richard’s bedroom, truly living.
He wasn’t going to be frightened, not when everything was going his way. Better dead in London than waiting to die in Oxford.
“There’s nothing for me there, and you know it. Here I have a trade, a lover, and the potential to improve myself immeasurably.”
“And the potential to get yourself killed if you go sneaking around at night. Even Richard would tell you that. Where is he, anyway?”
Good question. How long did it take to collect thirty pounds and eat a bit of supper? Surely he would be in a hurry to get home after their earlier interruption.
“He’s gone to get the money Nick owes from some man called Bennett.”
Geoffrey dropped his head and rubbed his eyes. “Bennett Goldfox,” he muttered. “This gets better.”
“You know him? Richard said he was apprenticed to him as a goldsmith.”
“That’s right, he was.”
“So how did he end up an actor?”
“That’s none of your business, and if Richard won’t tell you, I certainly won’t,” Geoffrey snapped.
“Can you tell me about Bennett at least? He came here yesterday, and I didn’t like him.”
“Maybe you’re a better judge of character than I thought,” Geoffrey replied wryly. “It sounds like you know all you need to about him. Suffice to say that you’d like him even less if I wasted my breath on him.”
William had a lot more questions but knew he wasn’
t about to get any answers from Geoffrey. Not sober, anyway. “This is so miserable. We’re cousins—we shouldn’t be fighting like this. Go get yourself a jug of ale and keep me company tonight. I might make mischief otherwise.”
Geoffrey raised a disapproving eyebrow but then appeared to relent. “Save your mischief for when Richard gets home. I’ll treat you to something special, and then it will be time for those London tales you wanted to hear back home. You’re a man now. I suppose I should be grateful for that.”
William watched him leave and then went back to his stew. He wasn’t quite a man yet, but Richard would be back later, and they would finish the job. All round, it was going to be a good night.
Geoffrey returned a few minutes later carrying papers and a candle, but no jug. “Your lines,” he said, placing them on the table. “Here’s your first tale of London. You work your arse off, and you don’t get to relax until you’re done. We’ve a performance tomorrow, remember.”
William pulled the script toward him and squinted at it in the firelight. He grudgingly admitted he deserved this, and he knew he would be thanking Geoffrey in the morning.
Chapter Eight
BENNETT’S HOME was impressive even at night. Richard arrived just after darkness fell, to find the expensive redbrick house looked no different from when he last left it more than two years ago. The building was a miniature palace; not to say it was small, only that the carved cornerstones and the large windows were grand beyond its scale. It featured all the latest architectural fashions, boasting three expansive curved gables and intricate strapwork weaving across the walls. Richard had been little more than a boy when it was being built and was dazzled by it before he ever knew the owner.
Somehow it suited Bennett to call such a place home. He could be ostentatious within his circle, but he was wary of attracting too much attention from outside quarters. Wealthier than many of the gentry, Bennett could afford a much larger house if he chose to ascend to their ranks, but the relative modesty of an eight-bedroom property, even one so lavishly turned out, granted him something much better—a place in the hierarchy he wished to maintain. Not too low, not too high. To Bennett, wealth and power were measured by more than the number of acres a man boasted or his status at court.
A servant immediately let Richard in as if he were expected. He had lived in this home on two separate occasions, and he assumed Bennett still made it clear to his employees that, should Richard call, he could come and go as he pleased.
He waited in the library, which was brightly lit with beeswax candles and a roaring fire—as was every public room in the house. Bennett probably still had a chandler on staff. Either that or he was singlehandedly keeping one very lucky shopkeeper in business.
Richard sat in a chair at the table and waited. He resisted the urge to look through the piles of papers, knowing nothing of any interest would be left out, and instead studied a map of the Virginia coast spread across it.
The door opened and Bennett entered, casually dressed in tight canions, obscenely short trunk hose, and an unlaced shirt. Richard was struck again by how well his former master had aged. In his midthirties, Bennett had been handsome, and the almost sixteen years they’d known each other had only improved him.
Though Bennett’s appearance was relaxed, as if Richard had interrupted him with a lover, he spoke seriously. Closing the double doors behind him, he said, “If you have come to chastise me again, then I assure you I feel extremely guilty. I should not have spoken to your apprentice the way I did, and I ought to have respected your wishes. I’m sorry.”
The apology made things easier. It would have been that much harder for Richard to swallow his pride without it. “Thank you, but that is not the reason I’m here.”
Bennett seemed surprised and approached now with ill-concealed interest. “It is too much to hope that you call for the pleasure of my company,” he said, half a smile already on his lips.
“I do not.”
“And I know it’s not about that blush on your cheek. I watched the performance today. Your new apprentice has talent and a strong right arm. It looks like that hurt.”
Richard touched his face and found lingering warmth from the slap. Although it continued to ache, he didn’t think it marked him. “I’ve had worse,” he replied, with more indifference than he actually felt.
“I remember.”
Taking a seat on the opposite side of the table, Bennett asked, “What brings you home to me?”
Richard paused, watching Bennett’s expectant face. The pleasure Bennett took from this was obvious, but his expression wasn’t mocking or smug. For once he looked genuinely pleased to be in Richard’s presence. His smile began to fade, however, as Richard remained silent.
“Speak, please,” Bennett murmured. “I would hear what has brought you to my home.”
“I need your help.”
Bennett was visibly relieved. “Whatever you need is yours. What is it?”
“Money.”
“That’s easily done. How much do you need?”
“Thirty pounds.”
Bennett didn’t even blink. “You always were expensive.” He chuckled.
Richard had taken more than that from Bennett over the years but never in one go. “Blame Nick,” he said wearily. “The brothel wasn’t his only debt.”
“Who would have extended him such credit?”
“The scum who arrived to collect said it was gambling debts, but I don’t believe him.”
“What do you think it is?”
This was a moment he had been dreading, more so even than when he’d had to admit he needed help. Dropping his voice, he said, “I think he has been talking a little too loudly about your association.”
“I see.”
Bennett didn’t look as alarmed as Richard expected. Given that Nick had visited him the previous day, he might already know about that. Richard didn’t press him for information. He didn’t want to know what had happened to his former apprentice. He couldn’t imagine it was good.
“It may have been a small debt originally, but the man who came to collect quoted fifteen pounds and doubled it before we finished talking. They know he is connected to serious wealth.”
“Or they merely believe it. Did you investigate?”
“No, I came straight here.”
Bennett seemed surprised. “Were you frightened of him?”
“No. Why follow him now when I can do it after the drop tomorrow? He’ll be much less wary of me when he’s got your gold and thinks the job is over.”
Richard hadn’t quite worked out the details of how he would track the man and appear on the stage at the same time, but he would think of something. He hoped Bennett would arrange to have the man followed so he could wash his hands of the whole thing, but Bennett did not offer, and Richard was too proud to ask for that sort of help. Money was tough enough; he didn’t want to appear to condone espionage on top of it.
Bennett stood and indicated he should rise too. “Come to my bedchamber, and you shall have all the money you need.”
It had gone this way before, and Richard wasn’t surprised now. It would have been much worse if he had to work the debt off any other way. He could admit to himself, if to no one else, that this would be immensely pleasurable.
“Am I to start paying it off now?” he asked as they began the short walk to the bedroom.
Bennett glanced at him. His eyes twinkled with delight, and it was obvious he was amused by the suggestion. “You know I keep money in a chest in my room. I’m not taking you up to my bed. If that’s how you intend to repay me, then I’ll have you be my master-mistress from now till kingdom come.”
Thirty pounds bought a lot of fucks. Bennett was right; that would have been too easy.
“I don’t want to owe you for long,” Richard mumbled. “I might be able to make enough this season to pay you back, if I write a lot of plays.”
They entered the bedroom, and Bennett said, “I’m sure there�
�s other work. If Nick has been talking, then we need to discover what is known. My privacy may be at stake.”
That was exactly what Richard was afraid he would say. “I can’t,” he replied, knowing he might find there was no other way.
“Because you’d rather lie in my bed?”
“I’d rather not be here at all.”
“I understand,” Bennett said, but Richard could see that had stung. “Take this as a gift. You needn’t do intelligence work, and I won’t expect you to lie down with me. I’ll take no pleasure from your body if you take none from mine.”
Intelligence work. That must be for Richard’s benefit. Bennett had never before had a problem talking about spying.
“I will willingly pay my debt with my arse, my purse, or a combination of the two. Nothing else.”
“Then that will have to suffice. There’s probably little to learn, anyway. What do you think he’s said about me?”
“I’ve no idea. Hopefully nothing more than that he has a rich lover who will pay up. But you should have one of your men look into it.”
“Why? You don’t seem to think it’s important, and I’ve always trusted your instincts before.”
Was Richard supposed to feel guilty for refusing to investigate? He’d done what he had to—gone to Bennett with the information when he could have protected Nick and simply asked for the money. He didn’t have to be the one to go looking. “I told you because I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he snapped. “So make sure you look into it.”
Bennett chewed his lip, and Richard could see his former master was trying to stifle the smile that followed that admission. “You’re sure he was talking about me?”
“Who else does he know with thirty pounds lying around?”
“You were doing quite well before you left London,” Bennett reminded him with a shrug.
“Not that well.”
“Why don’t we ask Nick?” The bedroom door was still open. Bennett shouted, “Send up the new boy!” before closing it.
“He’s here?” Richard hadn’t expected to see Nick again, and to be confronted by him now unsettled him.
“Working in the kitchen. He came to sell me the ring yesterday, and I couldn’t let him go into the unknown. He has served me well over the last two years, and I know he was your friend.”
The First Act Page 8