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Tuesday evening Magnus sat at the dinner table and opened the issue of the Standard, the evening paper which Will had brought in. He was browsing through the articles when one caught his eye. “Toby, there is a mention of Earl Badgely,” he said.
Toby looked up. “Don’t tell me he has been exposed.”
“No, rather the contrary. He has chosen to resign from the Committee on British West Africa, citing his own health and the pressures of drafting legislation. The committee is to be halted, and reformed at a later date.”
“Well, certain people will be happy at that news,” Toby said.
“I cannot think this was an easy decision for Earl Badgely.”
“On the contrary, I think it the only logical one. Imagine if one of us was in a similar position, and our relationship were to be exposed, and perhaps even ruined, if it were to come to light. I would do whatever I could to protect you.”
“But that is because you love me, my dear,” Magnus said.
“And you don’t believe that Badgely loves his wife, and his children?”
“Not from what has been demonstrated to us. Rather he values his position in society and his good name. I think it a wholly self-serving decision.”
Toby reached for his glass of wine. “And yet one that has positive implications for John and Raoul.”
“I would like to hear that from them,” Magnus said. “Shall we host a dinner?”
“I think that would be a capital idea. I have developed a fondness for those three, including Silas Warner. They have become a part of our family, and I am eager to see how they will proceed.”
They sent Will out that evening to the lodgings of all three men, with an invitation to a dinner Friday evening. Wednesday morning, they received responses from Raoul and Silas, but nothing from John.
“I wonder what will happen to our two young lovers,” Magnus said, as they surveyed the two acceptances. “Will Raoul be sent back to France, do you think? John exiled to Cornwall?”
“We need to call on Gervase Quinn again,” Toby said. “I have a client coming in this morning for a translation from the Russian, which you know is my weakest language. So I might be tied up for some time.”
“Would you prefer that I go?”
“That might be necessary. I must spend some time before my client arrives familiarizing myself once again with the Cyrillic alphabet, and get those verb tenses in my brain so that I do not waste my client’s time.”
Magnus agreed, and Toby spent a few minutes outfitting him for the visit to the Foreign Office. “You are spoiled, you know,” Toby said. “Just because you have had a personal valet in the past does not mean that I must perform those duties for the rest of our time together. You are perfectly capable of dressing yourself.”
“But no one ties a cravat like you do, my love,” Magnus said. “And you know that you enjoy intimate contact with my body.” He quickly reached out and palmed his lover’s cock, which strained against his trousers.
Toby laughed and batted his hand away. “None of that. I cannot have you reaching the Foreign Office smelling of spend.”
Magnus left a short while later, strolling through the crisp spring air. A house down the street had a window box of green daffodil shoots breaking through the dirt in search of sun.
Magnus was in a cheerful mood until he reached the Foreign Office. He was informed that Gervase Quinn was in a meeting and might be some time. He chose to wait, and asked that his name be passed to Quinn if there was an opportunity.
About a half-hour later, as he was considering whether he ought to return to Ormond Yard and try Quinn at another time, Quinn popped out of an office down the hall. “Good afternoon, Dawson,” he said, and they shook hands. “You might as well come in.”
“I read the piece in the Standard yesterday,” Magnus said, as he settled down across from his old schoolmate. “And there was no hint of accompanying scandal. Am I to assume that Earl Badgely succumbed to the persuasion of his son?”
“Haven’t you had a part in that?”
“We did facilitate a conversation with Lord Therkenwell in which the positives of the situation were pointed out to him. However when last we saw him he was opposed to participating.”
“I don’t know any specifics. We have been busy instead with the fallout from his decision. Should the committee be disbanded? Choose a new chair? What is her majesty’s position on further exploration in west Africa?”
He frowned. “As you can see, it’s a much larger issue than whom Earl Badgely chose to bed.”
“Any negative implications for Lord Therkenwell?” Magnus asked.
“Not from our end, certainly. Though I imagine his father might be displeased with him.”
“And what about Raoul Desjardins, of the French Embassy?”
“His name is not on the list of co-conspirators, though his supervisor, Georges Morvan, is prominent there. We will be conducting a full investigation shortly. Should Monsieur Desjardins’ name come up... well, I cannot promise anything at this point.”
“Marsh and I remain available to you, as you need,” Magnus said, and he rose.
When he returned home, Toby had still received nothing in return from John regarding the dinner invitation. As the hour for dinner approached Friday, Toby was uncertain of what to tell Carlo. “Do not worry, my love,” Magnus said. “If only Silas and Raoul arrive, we will go to a restaurant.”
“I am worried for John and Raoul. Their love is so tenuous. A bad move by either of them, or against either of them, could destroy everything.”
Magnus took his hand. “If their love is anything like ours, it will survive.” Then he smiled. “And if it does not, then I am sure each of them will move on.”
“Easier said than done.”
They heard a rap on the door, and Will went to answer it. He appeared in the door of the study a moment later. “Mr. Warner and Monsieur Desjardins,” he said.
They all embraced heartily. “Have you heard from John?” Raoul asked.
“I am afraid not,” Toby said.
The four of them stood uncertainly in the study, and Magnus noticed Raoul looking periodically out the window at Ormond Yard. “Well, I think we must congratulate ourselves on a successful resolution to the problem that faced us earlier this year,” he said. “Who would like a whisky?”
There was general consent, and Magnus led them into the sitting room, which was better appointed for a group. He poured them all glasses of his favorite Scotch whisky and handed them around.
He was pleased to have the threesome arrayed in front of him. Toby, of course, was first in his heart. And Raoul and Silas had both come to be friends, a connection he hoped would continue no matter what happened after that evening.
After a toast, they settled down into chairs, and Magnus saw that Raoul had picked one that faced the street window. Oh, well, he thought. If John is to arrive, he will. If he does not, and Raoul’s heart breaks, then at some point in the future it will mend.
Of course, he could believe that because he was secure in Toby’s love. They had gone through some difficult moments. Magnus recognized that he was a son of privilege, and Toby was not, and that there would always be some barriers between them. But he believed in the Latin phrase amor vincit omnia—love conquers all.
If only John believed that, too.
