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As the days crept forward to John’s departure for Cornwall, he hurried to scratch out enough material to keep his printer busy with broadsides while he was away. In addition to his writing about the vineyard workers, trying to tie their plight to the wealthy Briton’s consumption of fine wine, he interviewed a boy who tended the fires at a blacksmith’s and another who worked at Camden lock on the Regent’s Canal.
At the same time, his father sent him a series of missives. His youngest sister Lizzie was showing a great interest in the French language; did he have any books to bring her? His mother felt neglected, after his father’s prolonged time in London. Could John stop by Asprey’s and pick up a bauble to pacify her?
And finally, one afternoon in mid-February, as he was dressing for dinner with Raoul, a trunk arrived from his father that had to be taken to Cornwall. It sat in the hallway of his flat like a giant reminder that his father took up much too much room in his life, and he stubbed his toe on it as he walked out.
He was still angry about the trunk when he arrived at the Woburn Arms, but one look at Raoul’s desperate face pushed that idea aside.
“My heart, what is wrong?” he asked, as he slid into the dimly lit booth across from Raoul. “You look as if there has been a death in your family. It isn’t one of your parents, is it?”
Raoul shook his head. “It is something much worse.”
The proprietor came over to take their order, and Raoul said, “May we have a moment, please?”
The man huffed and turned away.
“I am afraid that after I tell you what has happened today, you will not want to eat with me again,” Raoul said.
“I very much doubt that. But please, go on.”
“I have told you of my boss, Morvan,” Raoul said.
“Not a very pleasant fellow, from what you’ve described.”
“No, he is not. And you know, of course, that the embassy staff sometimes uses unsavory means to accomplish their goals.”
“Has he asked you to do something unsavory?”
Raoul nodded.
“Oh my heart. You must know that I would never change my idea of you if you were forced to do something that went against your character.”
Raoul seemed to be choking on the words. “But it involves you.”
John’s stomach dropped and he sat back against the wooden bench. “Me? In what way?”
Raoul took a deep breath. “Morvan has learned of my relationship with you.”
John crossed his arms over his chest, wanting to retreat into himself. “That is difficult,” he said. “And dangerous. Particularly for someone like you, a foreigner, and without the cushion of nobility to protect you. Has he threatened to reveal our relationship to the authorities?”
Immediately he thought of what could happen to him. Arrested, his name thrown into the gutter, his parents rejecting him. Losing his income and title, as well as the friendship of other men who might be in danger. It made his skin crawl and his throat dry.
“He spoke to me of a man named Lord Arthur Clinton,” Raoul said. “Have you heard of him?”
John’s mouth gaped open. “But of course. Any man who seeks pleasure in the company of other men has. You had not?”
Raoul shook his head. “Morvan said that when this Lord Clinton was exposed as a man who had sex with men he committed suicide because of the disgrace to his family.”
“So they say,” John said. “But I am confused. Does this Morvan mean to expose you? And me? For what purpose?”
Raoul looked down at the table and explained what Morvan had told him to do.
John stared at him coldly. “Did you know who my father was when you accosted me at the soirée?”
“I did not accost you,” Raoul protested. “Our eyes met across the room.”
Raoul leaned forward. “Please, you must believe me. I had no idea who you were, or who your father was, when we met. It was only this afternoon that Morvan made these threats toward me.”
“And me as well.” John could not help the cold tone in his voice. Seeing Raoul’s utter despair, he said, “I am not angry at you, my heart. But rather at your evil boss, and all the awful people who would deny our love and keep us apart.”
“Then you will continue to see me?”
John’s heart melted to hear the tremor in Raoul’s voice. He reached across the table and took Raoul’s hand in his own. “We will figure out how to face this challenge together. I promise you.”
The proprietor came over again, scowling, and they quickly ordered their regular meals. When he was gone, they were both silent, and John’s brain raced ahead. “We need time to assess all the possible responses to your Monsieur Morvan,” he said. “Do you think he would give you leave to come with me to Shorecliff House?”
“Why?” Raoul asked.
“Because it would remove you from his clutches for two weeks,” John said. “You can phrase it to him that the invitation would give you time to assess my relationship with my father and how best to approach him.”
“And your family? What would they think?”
“My sister Lizzie has asked me to bring French textbooks to her,” John said with a smile. “I shall bring her a French tutor as well!”
They ate, though John had difficulty tasting the food and on the way back to his rooms with Raoul he could not even recall what he had eaten. Then he walked inside and once again stubbed his toe on his father’s trunk, still in the hallway.
He yelped and clutched his foot, and Beller appeared. “Is everything all right, my lord?”
“I swear, I do not know how we will manage all my own baggage along with what my father has asked us to transport,” John said. “Even with your help.” He looked at his valet. “And Monsieur Desjardins will be accompanying us, to provide some tutoring in French to my sister.”
“I will help with the bags,” Raoul said. He nodded toward the valet. “Under Mr. Beller’s supervision, of course.”
“It is only Beller,” the valet said. “And I will be able to engage a station boy to help.”
“I must make one thing clear,” Raoul said. “I am not a nobleman, nor have I ever engaged a servant. You need not feel that you must look after me in any way.”
“No matter their station, a guest in a noble home is treated the same way as the occupants,” Beller said. “Though I will not push my services where they are not needed.”
“All will be fine,” John said. “As Beller already knows, Shorecliff is a massive pile, and one whole wing is not heated in the winter. Vanessa and Lizzie share a room during the cold months, to avoid setting extra fires. My bedroom is large, with a gorgeous view out to the Carrick Roads. I will ask to have a second bed brought in there for you, to help economize. That will minimize work in looking after the two of us.”
Beller nodded, and soundlessly retreated to his own room. John and Raoul went into John’s bedroom, avoiding a large suitcase Beller had already begun to pack, and made their way to the bed, where John did his best to shuck off the tension of the evening by applying himself enthusiastically to Raoul’s pleasure.
But it was quickly clear that in both cases their thoughts were elsewhere. John retreated to one side of the bed and went back over what they had discussed. What would he do if he and Raoul were exposed? They could flee to the continent, of course, but Raoul would lose his job and his diplomatic connections, and John depended on his father for the largest part of his expenses, though he had a small income from a three-percent consolidated bank annuity left to him by his mother’s mother.
Raoul stood up and began to dress. “I shall return to my own room,” he said. “We both have a great deal to think on.”
“We will be a united front,” John said, though he was sure some indecision crept into his voice.
“I believe that,” Raoul said. He leaned down and kissed John’s cheek, then left the bedroom.
Only a few moments later, there was a soft knock on his bedroom door. It was Beller’s custom when John was alone to undress him for sleep.
“Is there trouble, my lord?” Beller said from the doorway. John was naked beneath the sheets, and Beller brought over his nightshirt. “Your look is most unhappy.”
“There is. And potentially a great danger. I may be on the road to bringing disgrace to my father and my name. As well as loss of fortune and regard.”
“I will stand by you, sir.”
John reached out and grabbed Beller’s hand and shook it. “Thank you so much,” he said. Unaccountably, he yawned, as if Beller’s words had lifted a burden from him and now he could sleep. “We will talk more about this in the morning.”
“Good night, my lord,” Beller said, and soundlessly crossed the carpeting and closed the bedroom door behind him.
