A Gentleman's Position

by K. J. Charles

  David had known the risks in the gulf that lay between them, and accepted them. But rather than seeing that, Richard had put his own oversized feet into David’s narrower shoes and ripped them apart at the seams.

  His work had not been demeaning, until Richard had demeaned it to his face.

  “Christ,” Richard said into his knees. “Christ.”

  “Aye, well, we all make a bad job of things now and again and you no less than the rest of us. I doused Dom’s glim for him, you might recall. Blacked his eye,” Mason translated, as though Richard had forgotten that incident.

  That was true but not comforting. Dominic was a forgiving man; Richard suspected that David was not. He would certainly not make himself the victim of his position by taking a master or a lover who did not respect him. He would never have been so foolish. He would have looked after himself, if only Richard had not tried to do that for him.

  “Hell’s teeth,” Richard said aloud. Mason didn’t reply, but he didn’t leave either, moving quietly around the room while doing, as far as Richard could see, very little, until at last there was a knock at the door.

  “That’ll be Dom,” Mason said with evident relief. “Here.” A hand, extended down. “Get off the floor. Bloody ridiculous.”

  Richard took his work-toughened hand. Mason was several inches shorter than Richard but solidly built, and he pulled hard so that Richard had to come to his feet or risk a dislocated arm. He stood but didn’t let go of the radical’s hand at once. “I…Thank you.”

  “Aye, well,” Mason muttered. “I’ll get the door.”

  Richard took his usual chair while Mason and Dominic exchanged a few words under their breath, and topped up the brandy glass he’d abandoned.

  Dominic shut the door behind Mason, pulled over the other chair, and gave Richard a long look. “It didn’t go well, then. Care to talk?”

  “Not really. There is nothing to say.”

  “Nothing?”

  “I caused more pain and distress in a few words than I ever have in my life, to the last man on earth I should have wished to hurt. Is that enough? I’m sorry, Dom. I tried to keep my word to you. I failed.”

  “Good heavens. What on earth did you do?”

  “Offered him a post as my confidential secretary at twice the salary.”

  “That…isn’t clear to me,” Dominic said carefully. “Why was that bad?”

  “Of course it is not bad. It is a better post. He would be more respected, more independent. Not a servant, still of my household—I thought it was perfect. Just as you and I would have been perfect if only you had not tiresomely been a quite different man to the one I assumed you were. I am such a bloody fool. And I am damned sorry that I did not try to understand, for your sake and because, if I had learned my lesson then, I might not have thrown David’s years of service back in his face and told him I thought they demeaned him.”

  “Oh,” Dominic said. “Oh, Richard.”

  “I thought he would want to stop being a servant. I would have wanted that, just as I would not want to do whatever it is that you do, but as I have been told more than once, it is not up to me to decide. Give Mason my thanks, incidentally. He was kinder to me than I deserved.”

  “He has a great deal of compassion,” Dominic said. “With his own way of showing it, admittedly. So you told Cyprian that you wanted him but not as a valet—”

  “And he informed me that if I could not bed a servant, I could not bed him.”

  Dominic frowned. “Did you…?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good?”

  “God, yes. And then I made this damn fool offer the next morning. I have to redress that, Dom. I have made an appalling mull of this, and I dare say he will not wish to be anything to me in the future, but at the very least, he must know that I wish I had cut out my tongue rather than say such a cursed ungrateful, stupid thing. I have to let him know I didn’t mean it.”

  “You’re not thinking of going back now,” Dominic said, warning in his voice. “You must see it would attract a great deal of attention if you turned up twice in a few days.”

  “That is the only reason I’m still here. If I had any sense, I would have stayed at Tarlton March so I could have spoken to him again today instead of fleeing back here, but I didn’t think of it then, and I couldn’t bear to be there.” Richard took a large mouthful of brandy. Dominic removed the bottle from the side table without comment. “Dear God. What my father would have said if he knew a fraction of this—”

  “Cannot be helped,” Dominic interrupted. “He scarcely conducted his own affairs in a manner deserving of respect. Is it just that Cyprian is a valet? Can you truly not stomach that?”

  “If I knew that was what he wanted—” I should have told you yes in a heartbeat, but you never asked. Richard flinched at the memory of David’s words. “But it is not just the duties that trouble me. I am afraid for how vulnerable he would be in his position. God knows I have done enough to him without the least ill intent. And I would not want him exposed to disrespect. You know what I mean.”

  “That’s true,” Dominic said. “Although I’d sooner make advances on a crocodile. But yes, his position would be vulnerable.”

  “Unacceptably so, and vulnerable to me as well as others. I hurt you so much, and I didn’t even notice. I’ve driven him away from me twice now. I don’t know how to get this right. And when I get it wrong, I know damned well I will not be the one to suffer the consequences, because I never am.”

  “Yes, you look quite unaffected now,” Dominic agreed sardonically. “Merry as a grig. Dear fellow, we are all vulnerable. Every time we fall in love, we are nothing but vulnerable.” He circled one wrist with his fingers and rubbed the fading mark there, an absent movement. “Including you, little though you like the idea. May I suggest you leave Mr. Cyprian to manage his affairs himself and concentrate on your own conduct? You have amends to make. And if that goes well, you ought to consider doing what he has asked of you in plain English.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Learn to bed a servant. Did he say ‘bed’?”

  “He said ‘fuck.’ He said, precisely, that he is a valet and a redheaded bastard, and if I could not fuck the—the man who blacks my boots, then I could not have him.”

  “I think I’m beginning to like Mr. Cyprian. Do you want to fuck him?”

  “Good God, Dominic.”

  “Then the conclusion is obvious. You know what he wants. Give it to him, or leave him alone.”

  Richard stared at the wall. “I can’t go back in the near future. And to write honestly—”

  “No.”

  “I wish I could. I think I could get it right on paper, but of course, I may not even write a bloody letter for fear of discovery. Of course not.” Richard did not often repine at his situation under the law—it was how things were, and his wealth and David’s work had kept him safe enough—but the injustice grated viciously on his nerves now.

  “You can write something,” Dominic said. “Express regrets. Ask for an opportunity to meet. It’s better than nothing. And in any case, you cannot do this on paper, and you know it. If you insult a man to his face, that is how you make your apology.”

  “What if he doesn’t want to hear from me?”

  “Then I dare say he will consign you to the devil. Why don’t you let him decide that?”

  “If I write to ask him to wait, not to take another position before we have had a chance to speak again—that is fair, is it not?”

  “Entirely. Whether he will is another matter, of course.”

  Too true. He’d cut David down twice, and his valet was no dog that would return to a man who kicked him. Richard would need to regain David’s trust, and his first step had to be to give his own trust. God knew David managed matters better than he did.

  “Thank you,” he said aloud. “Your patience is exemplary.”

  “I need it, believe me. What I wonder—” Dominic broke off and looked around a
t the sound of a quiet, respectful knock.

  A footman opened the door. “My apologies, my lord, but Lord Gabriel Ashleigh and Mr. Francis Webster have called on very urgent business and beg your lordship’s time.”

  Richard waved permission, and Francis and Ash hurried in. Francis’s narrow face was tense with worry. At his heels, Ash looked frankly unwell.

  “Your pardon for the interruption, but we have trouble,” Francis said. “Serious trouble.”

  Richard glanced at Dominic, who opened his hands in bafflement. “What on earth is wrong?”

  “It’s all my fault.” Ash sounded utterly miserable. “I’m so sorry.”

  Francis glowered. “It’s your accursed brother’s fault. Are Harry and Julius not here?”

  “Harry has taken lodgings in Great Ryder Street,” Dominic reminded him.

  “Yes, I know. We told them to meet us here.”

  “Feel free to use my house as your own,” Richard said. “What is going on?”

  The door opened again, without ceremony, revealing Harry and Julius looking as tense as the others. “Richard, thank God you’re back,” Harry said. “Uh, that is, good afternoon.”

  Dominic shot Richard a look. “Are you worried yet?”

  “Yes. Will someone please enlighten us?”

  Julius came over with the quick, firm tread that suggested he was too on edge to be languid, and sat on the desk since there were not enough chairs. “Welcome home, Richard. Did you woo Cyprian successfully?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Richard said with stifled incredulity.

  “He’s not returned? Curse it. We could use an intelligent man now. Have you told them, Ash?”

  Dominic made an exasperated noise. “If someone doesn’t explain very shortly…”

  All the others looked at Ash. Francis hooked a footstool with his ankle, dragged it over, and pushed his lover down onto it. “Speak.”

  “What it is, you see— I wrote to Francis.” Ash was staring at the floor. “At Christmas. I was at Warminster Hall for a week, with my family. Including Maltravers. God, it was dismal, and I was bored, and…I wrote a letter.”

  “Which I did not receive,” Francis said. “A fact of which neither of us was aware—I didn’t know; Gabriel didn’t think. He mentioned it to me some few days back, and we were, of course, highly concerned that it had gone astray. But you had just divested yourself of Cyprian, and after so long, we hoped that the damned thing had been lost in the post. We are not so fortunate.”

  “What was in the letter?” Richard asked.

  “I, uh. It was pretty ripe stuff.” Ash was scarlet. “I, uh…”

  “It would serve very well as evidence in a prosecution for sodomy,” Francis said, voice flat. “Gabriel wrote about a night we spent before he left for Warminster, with detailed reference to our first evening together. A memoir of buggery running to some four pages of his unique handwriting.” He brushed a finger across Ash’s scalp. “I rather wish I’d read it.”

  “I wish you had it,” Dominic said. “Hell and the devil himself. Ash.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

  “You so rarely do,” Julius said. “Now tell Richard who has the letter.”

  “I put it out to be posted,” Ash mumbled. “At the Hall. I, uh…Mal took it off the table.”

  Richard stared. “You cannot be serious. He did what?”

  “Lord Maltravers saw a sealed private letter, plucked it off the table, and made himself at home with its contents,” Francis said. “The toad.”

  Richard was almost speechless. “That is a damned disgrace. That is appalling.”

  “It is a weapon,” Julius said. “This gets a great deal worse, Richard. Maltravers loathes Francis, but even he would probably rather not see his brother in the dock accused of playing at all fours. And if Maltravers did bring a prosecution and both Ash and Francis denied it all, claimed it was some fantasy of Ash’s, Maltravers would ruin his brother, at great cost to his family name, but Francis might escape relatively unscathed.”

  “Is that not good? What are you getting at?”

  “Maltravers wants to use it,” Harry said. “Against Silas and me.”

  Dominic went rigid. Richard could see the white creases down the sides of his nose that betrayed his anger, but his voice was level as he repeated, “Silas.”

  “And, indeed, Harry,” Julius said. “They are both in this to their eminently stretchable necks.”

  “Explain,” Richard said. “Now. What has Maltravers said, and what does he want?”

  “He spoke to Gabriel yesterday,” Francis said. “He expressed a magnanimous readiness not to prosecute. In return, all of you must retract your testimony about the night of the Cato Street Conspiracy.”

  “What?” Richard and Dominic said together.

  Richard, Ash, and Julius had lied through their teeth, at David’s direction, to keep Mason from prosecution as part of an ill-fated plot to murder the entire British cabinet. He had been part of the conspirators’ group until the day before the planned outrage, and a constable had seen him on Cato Street that night. The Ricardians had given him a false alibi for the afternoon and evening to save his skin. As it happened, he had not been at Cato Street earlier because he had been in bed with Dominic, but that was scarcely something to be offered in evidence.

  If Mason were tried, and Richard and the others did not repeat the alibi, Mason’s conviction for high treason would be inevitable.

  “How does Maltravers know about that?” Richard asked.

  “I expect through Skelton, the Home Office man to whom you all lied so efficiently,” Dominic said. “He’s Maltravers’s protégé, if you recall.”

  “He was there.” Ash’s voice shook. “Mal told me he had that accursed letter and shouted at me until I felt like a worm, and then he said he’d tell me what was wanted and went off and brought Skelton in. He was very polite, he kept saying that we’d been ‘mistaken’ or ‘confused,’ but of course he meant lying. He didn’t talk about the letter at all. He just said that Mal was going to prosecute Mason for his part in the conspiracy and he wanted to know we wouldn’t argue it in court. He said there would be no reason for the ‘misunderstanding’ to come up, as long as none of us challenge the evidence against Mason.”

  “Or to put it another way,” Julius said, “if any of us makes trouble, Skelton will proclaim to a crowded courtroom that we lied to protect a man from a charge of high treason. And Maltravers may bring a prosecution for sodomy against Ash and Francis.”

  Richard put a hand to Dominic’s arm, feeling his tension. “Does Maltravers believe we’ll just let Mason be hanged?”

  “He thinks he’s guilty,” Ash said. “Or perhaps he doesn’t care. He said you can all decide if you would rather protect a seditionist or a sodomite.”

  “I thought Mason was both. Actually, I am unclear on what Mason is,” Francis said. “He was not in fact a conspirator? Not guilty of this?”

  “Not as such, but a radical of the worst kind and involved in the group,” Julius said. “We can’t let him stand his trial and see how the dice fall if that is what you’re thinking. There is no doubt that he could be successfully prosecuted for conspiracy to murder and treason. All that prevents it is that we lied about his whereabouts.”

  “He wouldn’t stand a chance,” Dominic said. “The trial is due to start in the middle of this month, and Adams, one of the conspirators, has turned king’s evidence. He can testify that Silas was part of the group almost to the end.”

  “Can he can say enough to hang Mason?”

  “I don’t know,” Dominic said. “Silas will. Let’s ask him.”

  “Wait,” Francis said. “I don’t want to say this—”

  “Then don’t.” Dominic’s tone held a warning. “You and I have been friends for a long time, Francis. Don’t say anything that would destroy that.”

  “Gabriel could stand in the pillory if Maltravers prosecutes, at the least,” Francis said doggedl
y. “Men are killed that way. If Mason was implicated, do you truly propose to preserve him at the cost of Gabriel’s skin?”

  “It’s not— Sit down, Dominic; I’m speaking. It’s not as simple as throwing either Mason or Ash to the lions,” Julius said as Richard put a restraining hand to Dominic’s arm. “If Mason is convicted of high treason, it will destroy Harry, who was his assistant for so long. Richard is Mason’s employer, and I paid his bail. Hanging Mason will hit us all hard. But—I am still speaking, Francis—but if Ash’s letter becomes public knowledge, do any of you believe we can all survive the scrutiny? How hard would anyone have to look? This is not a choice between two sacrifices. Whatever happens, a number of us are, if I may use the military term, fucked.”

  “Then what the devil do we do?” Harry asked. “I don’t care if everyone finds out about my past—”

  “Cirencester will,” Richard interrupted. The futures unfolding before him were appalling. It was impossible to think which would be worse, the little set that bore his name becoming known as a pack of sodomites or the stain of high treason attached to his household. His brother’s wrath would be terrible and entirely justified. “Dominic, explain to me. Why does Maltravers want Mason prosecuted?”

  “Because he’s Jack Cade,” Dominic said. He and Francis were watching each other like cats. “The illegal pamphleteer. If Skelton can put that across in court, even if Silas doesn’t hang, he could be transported. He has one conviction for seditious libel already.”

  “You are not serious,” Francis said. “In God’s name, Dominic—”

  “Yes, I’ve gone mad, that’s been well established,” Dominic snapped.

  “On the contrary,” Richard said. “Dominic knows his own business best, Mason is a good man, and we will have no further argument on that subject.” That got startled looks from everyone, Dominic most of all. “But this whole business cannot simply be Maltravers helping Skelton to net an elusive quarry.”

  “No, it is more,” Dominic said, recovering his composure. “The Cato Street accused are a pack of malcontents and madmen. But if Jack Cade is added to their number, that links the radical scribblers to the would-be murderers. Maltravers is tired of waiting to step into his father’s shoes. Skelton is ambitious. If they can produce a wide-ranging radical conspiracy during an election, Skelton can be sure of promotion, and Maltravers will make himself look a hero, claim a government position, and hit at us all at once.”