by Merry Farmer
The carriage that Max had sent to fetch him was already waiting outside. Being sent for, like a mistress in the night, embarrassed Stephen to no end, but taking the offered carriage was a damned sight more convenient than walking halfway across London in the dark or paying for a hired hack.
“Make sure the girls all get to bed on time,” he told Annie. “And for God’s sake, keep sharp objects away from Jane. She’s grown far too macabre for a ten-year-old these last few weeks.”
“Yes, sir,” Annie answered, still staring at him breathlessly.
“Well, aren’t you just the bee’s knees,” Mrs. Ross said, rushing out from the great hall, as if she didn’t want to miss getting a look at him before he left. Her expression twitched with mirth. “That’s quite the ensemble.” She raked him up and down with an overtly impressed look.
“I feel horrendously overdressed,” Stephen said, inching toward the door and taking his coat and hat from the pegs beside it.
“Lord Hillsboro has fine taste,” Mrs. Ross went on. Her smirk grew and she crossed her arms.
Stephen let out a breath, grabbing his coat. She knew. Of course she knew. Given her background, how could she not know? “It’s a frivolous expense,” he said, meeting her eyes firmly and hoping she caught his insistence on subtlety for the sake of Annie’s innocence. “I don’t know how I’ll repay him.”
“I do,” Mrs. Ross murmured, sending him a saucy look.
Stephen cleared his throat and turned away to hide the way he was certain his face had gone beet red. “I’m not certain how late I’ll be,” he said awkwardly. “I have the key to the kitchen door, though, so you can lock up as usual.”
“I’ll keep a lamp lit in the kitchen for you,” Mrs. Ross said, her voice laced with humor.
Stephen fled her teasing gaze and Annie’s starry-eyed admiration as fast as possible. The driver of the carriage seemed impatient to be on his way, so Stephen hopped into the carriage without pausing to make conversation.
The ride to The Chameleon Club seemed both to last a lifetime and to be over before he was ready. By the time he stepped down in front of the utterly nondescript building facing Hyde Park and hurried up the steps and inside, his heart was beating like a drum calling an army to war. The Chameleon Club was far grander than his usual surroundings and intimidated him anyhow, but the moment he stepped inside the marble lobby, he knew he was in for far more than an evening spent with people he was certain would be his betters.
Rather than being quiet and sober as it usually was, the club was lit up with elaborate candelabras and rang with the sounds of music and conversation from somewhere deeper in its depths. The walls leading from the lobby to the great hall at the heart of the club were festooned with swaths of colorful silk and veritable fountains of flowers. There were even two rows of luminarias lining the upper hall to direct guests into the heart of the ball. The whole club was alive with brightness, color, and excitement.
Best of all, as Stephen approached the entrance to the great hall, he spotted Max standing there, waiting for him.
His heart all but stopped in his chest before racing as it never had before, and he stopped where he was, jaw dropping. Max was dressed in a finely-tailored, forest green suit. It accentuated his narrow waist and broad chest. His hair seemed curlier than usual in a way that instantly made Stephen want to run his fingers through it. His eyes were outlined with kohl, and if Stephen wasn’t mistaken, he wore just a touch of rouge on his cheeks and his lips. Stephen had never cared much for men wearing cosmetics, but the effect on Max was dazzling.
That effect was magnified by a thousand as Max spotted him, their eyes met, and he smiled. If Stephen hadn’t already been smitten, he would have lost himself completely in that moment.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” Max said, striding forward and eagerly taking Stephen’s arm. “So?” he asked, drawing Stephen into the great hall and the swirl of sound, color, and magnificence it contained. “What do you think?”
Stephen thought he’d been horribly overdressed, but at one glimpse of the great hall transformed into a ballroom, he felt as drab and pedestrian as he knew he was. Beauty spun all around him. The hall was decorated with the same silk and flowers as the lobby, only more so. There were so many candles illuminating the room that Stephen worried the whole thing would turn into a conflagration, but it was gorgeous all the same, bold, yet artistic. More than half of the men in attendance were dressed in colors and ornaments that made Max look as underdressed as Stephen felt. A few were even dressed in elaborate evening gowns.
Perhaps the most elaborately dressed of any of the guests Stephen could see was a man with dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and a suit jacket that glittered with purple and green iridescence as he moved through what appeared to be a throng of admirers, heading toward the dais where a small orchestra played. Not only were his eyes heavily outlined with kohl, his lips were bright red. He wore an abundance of diamond jewelry on his ears, wrists, fingers, and around his neck. The overall effect was to make him shine like more than just a star, like the entire night sky.
“Good Lord, is that Everett Jewel, the actor?” Stephen asked, leaning closer to Max to be certain he was heard over the noise.
“It is,” Max laughed, taking his arm, as bold as he pleased. “I saw him in Julius Caesar last year. He certainly knows how to draw a crowd.”
That was putting it mildly. At least a dozen men crowded around the base of the dais as Jewel mounted it. They watched, enraptured, as he turned to the orchestra, which stopped playing, issued an order for songs, then faced forward again to sing as the musicians launched into a popular melody.
“What in heaven’s name is his jacket made out of?” Stephen asked as he and Max made their way around the room to find a place to stand and watch the carnival of activity. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Beetle wings, if I’m not mistaken,” Max answered. “They’re imported from India and have that fascinating, iridescent quality.”
“It must cost a fortune.”
Max laughed. “Jewel has a fortune and more to spare. You should ask him to donate to your girls. I’m sure he’d be happy to.”
Stephen dragged his eyes away from Jewel’s sultry performance of a song that was growing lewder by the verse to gape at Max. “I could never, in a million years, approach a man like that and ask him for money.”
“He’s a man, the same as anyone else,” a slightly familiar voice said by Stephen’s side.
Stephen jumped and turned to find the most strikingly beautiful man he’d ever laid eyes on just inches away from him. He was thin with pale skin, blue eyes, perfectly coifed hair, and a sensuous mouth. He was dressed in a lavender suit with grey edging that made him look delicate and ethereal, but power radiated from him. The juxtaposition of softness and ferocity instantly put Stephen off-guard. Stephen had met the man before, but couldn’t place where.
Max glanced past Stephen to see who was interrupting and his face lit up. “Lionel. It’s good to see you.” He reached to shake the captivating man’s hand, staying unusually close to Stephen as he did. “May I introduce you to my friend, Stephen Siddel. Stephen, this is Lionel Mercer.”
“The orphanage owner,” Lionel said, sending Max a teasing grin. He offered Stephen his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again.”
Stephen’s mouth dropped open before he could think. The memory of meeting Lionel Mercer the one time he’d enlisted the help of Dandie & Wirth rushed back to him. “I’m surprised you remember me.”
Max laughed. “Lionel remembers everyone he’s ever so much as heard of. He was the one who suggested I invest in your orphanage.”
“And it seems my instincts were correct,” Lionel added, fixing Stephen with a saucy stare.
Stephen didn’t know whether to laugh or be terrified by the elegant man in front of him. “Thank you,” he said with a deep nod, falling back on manners. “I am in your debt.”
Lionel hummed enticingly. “
I love it when handsome men are in my debt.”
The look he raked Stephen with from top to bottom was overtly sexual. It sent an odd chill down Stephen’s spine. Aside from Max, and a few other men from his past, no one had ever attempted to devour him with a look.
Strangely, Max didn’t seem to mind the look. “I brought Stephen here tonight because he’s on the fence about letting his girls perform at Lady Bardess’s concert next week.”
Lionel made a sour face. “I don’t blame him one bit. Lillian Bardess is a bitch.”
Stephen’s brow shot up. He’d come to the same conclusion, but to hear the sentiment expressed aloud and so bluntly was a shock.
“I told Stephen that he should search out alternative patrons at the ball tonight,” Max went on.
“A wise decision,” Lionel said, glancing across the room. “Lord Metcalf just came into some money, although he has his sister’s family to support. Mr. Greenhill has had a profitable year, but I’m not sure I would wish that association on someone as kindhearted as you.” He glanced to Stephen, who wasn’t sure whether to be offended or grateful. “There’s always Lord Chatsworth, but you’d never get rid of him and his tedious stories once you let him through the door.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” Max said with a shake of his head.
Stephen had the sudden, uncomfortable feeling that Max was part of a whole, wide world that he had nothing to do with. And if they truly didn’t have as much in common as he wanted to think they did, how long would it be before Max grew tired of him?
“No,” Lionel said with a showy sigh. “Even I have to admit that your most likely choice for a new patron for the orphanage is Everett Jewel.”
Stephen flinched in surprise. “Him?” He glanced across to the dais, where Jewel continued to perform in a manner that seemed better suited for a dance hall than an assembly of gentlemen.
“He has a particular interest in orphans,” Lionel said in a flat voice, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at Jewel. “Considering that he was one.”
“You don’t like the man?” Stephen asked.
“Everyone likes Everett Jewel,” Lionel answered in a bitter voice.
“He’s just jealous.” A tall man with dark hair and patrician features sauntered up to Lionel’s side and threw an arm around his shoulders. “Aren’t you, Lionel?” He grinned at Lionel as if they shared an inside joke. Stephen recognized him as David Wirth.
“Absolutely not.” Lionel shrugged David’s arm off his shoulders and tilted his chin up in what must have been intended as a frosty gesture. Stephen wasn’t fooled, though. The two men had to have been more than business partners.
“David.” Max nodded to the man. “Good to see you. Allow me to introduce you to my friend, Stephen Siddel. Stephen, this is David Wirth of Dandie & Wirth, solicitors.”
“We’ve met, remember?” Stephen shook the man’s hand, beginning to feel overwhelmed by the sheer number of people at the ball and the fact that Max seemed to know them all. “Though it was years ago.”
A round of applause broke out before Stephen could figure out how to make conversation with David and Lionel. On the dais, Everett Jewel took a bow, the movement causing his beetle-wing jacket to glitter as though he were some sort of mythological creature.
“And now, let’s dance!” Jewel declared in a loud voice.
The orchestra struck up a decidedly wild waltz, and before Stephen knew it, the center of the great hall transformed into a swirling crush of dancing couples, all of them male. Stephen was suddenly struck with the fear that Max would ask him to dance. Yes, he wanted to be in Max’s arms, but who would take the lead? He barely knew how to dance as it was.
Max turned to him, his eyes sparkling with exactly the invitation Stephen both longed for and dreaded, but before he could do more than open his mouth, Lionel grabbed Max’s forearm.
“I’m not missing out on the fun,” Lionel declared, as mischievous as an imp. “Come on, Hillsboro.”
Stephen’s mouth continued to hang open as Lionel yanked Max away, causing him to lose his balance. Max sent an apologetic look to Stephen over his shoulder as Lionel whisked him into the crowd, then deftly assumed the woman’s stance for the waltz. Underneath Stephen’s shock at the pure surreal feeling of the situation, jealousy as green as Max’s suit rose up.
He was startled when David slapped a hand on his shoulder and said, “Don’t worry about Lionel,” with a laugh. “He suffers from an overabundance of pride, and that pride tends to be wounded whenever Everett Jewel is in the same room with him.”
“Oh,” Stephen said clumsily, glancing from David to Jewel, who was making a show of choosing a dance partner from half a dozen men vying for the honor, to Max and Lionel turning circles among the others on the dance floor.
David let go of Stephen’s shoulder and clasped his hands behind his back, staring out at the revelry on the dance floor. “Events like this are rare for The Brotherhood. Usually we like to keep things staid and professional.” When Stephen couldn’t think of a reply to the statement, David glanced to him and said, “To avoid accusations of lewdness and debauchery, of course. There are plenty of other establishments for our sort to frequent if that’s what they’re looking for. But it is nice for everyone to get a chance to let their hair down now and then.”
It took several awkward beats of silence and an increasing sense that he didn’t belong for Stephen to realize David’s words were testing him. As soon as it dawned on him, he blinked and faced the man. “Max dragged me here tonight to see if I could recruit donors for the orphanage I run, since I’m having second thoughts about another source of revenue.”
David’s mouth pulled into a lopsided grin. “I wasn’t accusing you of anything. Anyone with eyes can see you and Max are smitten with each other.”
It might have been better if the man had accused him of trolling the ball for a partner for the night. Stephen’s whole body heated with self-consciousness. “My girls are my first priority,” he said defensively. Even though he could sense that David Wirth wouldn’t think less of him for being enamored of Max. No one in the vast room would. In fact, he was standing in the only place in the world where he could be surrounded by people who would not only not hold his feelings for Max against him, they would encourage them.
“I worry about Max sometimes,” David went on, watching as Max and Lionel whirled around the dance floor, laughing. “His family situation is not ideal.”
Stephen hummed, forcing his shoulders to loosen and standing in imitation of David. It dawned on him that David, too, was wearing a relatively plain suit and hadn’t painted his face or added extra adornment to his attire either. “I’ve met his parents and his brother, George.”
David grimaced. “George Eastleigh is an abomination.”
Stephen laughed suddenly. When David raised a questioning eyebrow at him, he said, “That’s a word that is usually reserved for our sort. But you’re right, it fits men like George Eastleigh far better than us.”
A suddenly serious look came over David’s face. “How have you met the Eastleigh family? I was given to understand that they had all but banished poor Max from the family.”
“We visited Eastleigh Manor over the weekend,” Stephen confessed. The memory of the kisses he’d shared with Max rushed to his head. The visceral memories of the way Max had tasted and the way his body had felt so tantalizingly close to his made it difficult for him to concentrate for a moment. He cleared his throat and went on with, “My girls sang for Lord Eastleigh and his family.”
David seemed far more interested than Stephen would have thought. “And how did you find our friend George?” he asked intently. “How did he behave around your girls?”
“Abominably,” Stephen answered. A chill passed down his spine, but he wasn’t certain what it signaled.
David nodded as though the single word were enough of an answer to whatever deeper question he had. He frowned, seemingly lost in thought.
“Is
something wrong?” Stephen asked, unable to bear the tension.
David remained in this thoughts for a moment before glancing up at Stephen. “I’m not certain.” He shifted his weight. “I’ve been part of a new investigation into several young people who have gone missing.”
The very idea of children disappearing had Stephen on edge and wishing he could run home to make sure every one of the tender souls in his care was tucked safely in bed. He knew entertaining his feelings for Max was a bad idea. But as fast as that thought hit him, he shoved it aside. The girls were safe. His heart was safe.
“It’s a new investigation,” David continued. For a moment, he looked as though he would say more. Instead, he shook his head and drew in a breath. “I shouldn’t bother you with the details. I abhor premature anxiety.” He paused, then added, “Though if you hear of anything that might aid in the investigation, any more tales of children going missing, please let me know.” He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a card, handing it to Stephen.
Stephen took the card, reading it quickly. All it said was “Dandie & Wirth, solicitors” with an address in The City. The previous meeting Stephen had had with David and Lionel had been there, at the club. He nodded in thanks and tucked the card into his jacket pocket.
David took a breath and rolled his shoulders, glancing out into the dancing crowd once more. His wry grin returned. “I haven’t seen Lionel in this good a mood in months.”
“Are you—” Stephen started, stopping when he realized his question might be rude.
David laughed and shook his head. “Lionel is my business partner, nothing more.” His expression clouded slightly as he resumed watching Max and Lionel. “In spite of the rumors you might have heard.” It was enough to make Stephen wonder if he was telling the truth, or rather, if David wished he were lying.