The destruction of the House of Mirrors looked even worse by the light of day. Rafe walked through a maze of mostly empty frames, his boots crunching shards of glass, and felt sick, not only for the loss of the attraction that he’d designed, but for the loss of trust in those he’d considered practically family.
He should’ve known better.
The carnival was made up of a group of people thrown together by unusual circumstances. The constant traveling forced them into proximity and fostered a sense of camaraderie, but in the end they were only people who happened to work together. They were not a family.
Unfortunately Rafe’s real family lay across an ocean and required his presence now. It was time to give up this false world he’d created for himself, go home, and take up his responsibilities. Why had he thought he could wait until the end of the season? With the show in shambles, he might as well announce his plans sooner rather than later. If Parinsky was so certain he could fix things, let him take over the reins. Hell, Rafe wouldn’t sell the show to him—he’d simply give it to him. If the carnival ultimately folded, the refugees could find their way to the Orcullys or other outfits where their acts would be in demand.
Rafe thought of the disappointment in Jonah’s face last night when he’d refused his offer to come in. His chest tightened, and a sense of loss washed over him. The season might not be quite finished, but summer was done for Rafe. No more holiday from his real life. No more postponing the inevitable. He would say good-bye to the preacher’s son and never see his bright eyes again. Nor feel his caresses, his kisses, his hot body pressed close as if the two of them would melt together. And Jesus God, he’d given himself a hard-on by allowing such thoughts.
No more! There would be no attempt at one last fuck. It might assuage Rafe’s lust, but it would do Jonah no favors. He was going to be hurt by the end of this summer, and Rafe should never have led him along this far.
“So, what do you think, boss?” Crooked Pete’s voice startled him, and Rafe turned from the wreckage to face the bow-backed man. “Worth starting over?”
“No. Sweep it clean. Stack the frames somewhere. We might be able to use them in some way. And then go ahead and store whatever you need to in here.”
“Could sell one of the wagons,” Pete said. “With the lion gone and now this, we’ve got more than we need. Best bet is to convert this into our lead wagon and get rid of the old one.”
“Do whatever you think’s best. It doesn’t matter.” It’ll all be over soon, anyway.
“Breaks your heart, doesn’t it?” Pete squinted at him. “I know you put some work into this. It held together even driving over bumpy roads, and the people seemed to like the illusion.”
Rafe shrugged. “Everything comes to an end. You know that better than anyone, Pete.”
“That I do.” He smiled. “These old bones aren’t going to be able to take many more seasons on the road, I can tell you that. Maybe I’ll just stay down in Florida after this winter.”
“And what would you do with yourself?” Rafe asked. “The show’s in your blood. I don’t think you could live without it.”
Pete started pushing the broom he’d brought along through the rubble. “Then I guess I’ll die. Nobody lives forever, son. That’s why you got to make the most of the time you got.” He glanced at Rafe with a sharp look in his rheumy eyes. “And don’t let people you care about slip away, or you’ll end up like me—all alone.”
Wonderful. Even Crooked Pete knew his business and was offering unwanted advice.
“That Jamie girl’s wild about you, you know,” Pete continued. “You should do somethin’ about that.”
Or maybe his vision was clouded after all.
Rafe nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He left the wagon and started making his rounds, interviewing one person after another about where they’d been last night after the carnival closed and who’d they’d been with. Most of the stories matched up, and he learned some interesting facts.
For one thing, it appeared Dimitri had given up on mooning after Miss Jamie, at least temporarily, because he’d been spending time in Claudia’s wagon. “Sharing a late night meal,” they’d both said. But it didn’t escape Rafe’s notice that Claudia had been wearing slippers and a robe last night. An interesting couple.
Henry Fisher, Pete, and some of the other roustabouts had been playing poker. All could vouch for one another’s presence. Ellen Fisher said she’d been in bed. Mindy had been in Rafe’s trailer counting the day’s box office, and Parinsky was with Rafe when the commotion had started. Jamie had been tending her ponies, and Jack Treanor, removing his makeup. It seemed every damn person in the carnival had an alibi of sorts for last night.
Except Jonah, the only man who’d seen the mysterious vandal. If Rafe wasn’t involved with him—if he wasn’t certain he knew him—the lad would probably be the first person he’d suspect. As it was, he couldn’t even consider him as a possibility.
So, if not anyone in the carnival, then who? Some youths causing mischief, as Jamie had suggested? An outside agent sent by the Orcullys to disrupt the show and force them into selling? Maybe some local who simply hated carnivals and wanted to drive them off? Or someone with a personal vendetta against Rafe, who might wish to cause him trouble? For that matter, this could be related to his other life. Maybe an agent the family had sent to try to get him home faster?
Whatever the reason for the destruction, Rafe’s lingering had to end. The troupe would muddle through without him. It was quite possible for a carnival to change owners without falling apart. Rafe had convinced himself they relied on him, but maybe they’d be better off without him—Jonah in particular. Maybe Rafe’s leaving was the catalyst the young man needed to break free of this cocoon and find his real place in the world.
Rafe stood in the center of the carnival takedown and directed the smooth ballet. To an outsider the scene would be utter chaos, but he knew it was a well-oiled machine. Watching them work, he understood his new plan was better—he wouldn’t go to an outsider first.
Each person knew his job, and the entire thing would be torn down and loaded by the end of another half hour. Just enough time for him to have a private talk with Parinsky and then Jonah before making a general announcement about his leaving. The brevity would keep that talk with Jonah from turning into one last tryst. He caught his breath and held it for a moment before slowly letting go. This was going to be much harder than he’d thought.
Rafe caught sight of Parinsky carrying a crate full of his patent medicines to a storage wagon and called out his name.
Parinsky jerked his head in acknowledgment, dropped off the crate, and came over to him. “What’s up?”
“We need to talk.”
“So talk.”
Why did the man have to be so everlastingly abrupt and annoying? Every word from his mouth made Rafe feel less like leaving these people in his care, and then the obvious answer came to him.
“Nothing. Never mind. No, wait. I’d like you to go around and tell everyone that as soon as we’re packed up I want them to meet in the space where the big canvas was. I have an announcement to make.”
“Okay.” Parinsky headed off.
Rafe considered the man’s failings. Saul Parinsky was the last person he wanted to look after his show. Mindy would be best—if the men would only defer to her authority. She knew the business like the back of her hand. She wasn’t the best at dealing with people, being about as short-tempered as Parinsky and even less diplomatic, but she would manage with people like the Fishers to back her up, and she’d grow into her new role.
Rafe spotted Jonah leading a line of ponies from their pickets to their trailer. Too busy to stop and talk. In fact, it was probably better if they didn’t have a private conversation. The break would be cleaner if Jonah learned about Rafe leaving along with everyone else. Yes, that was the way to handle it. Might leave the man hating him, but at least Jonah wouldn’t give him those soulful eyes and make Rafe start waffling on his decision to go.
Mindy happened by just then, and that decided the matter for him. “I’d like to talk to you,” Rafe said. “In my trailer.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “Sounds serious. You know who ruined the mirror maze?”
“No. It’s something else. A proposition.”
They spent the next half hour in his room, and by the time Mindy walked out, she’d traveled from shock at his leaving, to pride at him asking her to take over the show, to trepidation, and then cautious optimism in her ability to do the job.
As they parted outside the trailer, they shook hands.
“I can’t believe you thought of me first,” she said. “Most men don’t cotton to the idea of women running things, even though we do it all the time.”
“Who else was I going to ask? Parinsky?” Rafe smiled. “You know all the details. You’ll do fine once everyone gets used to the idea of you being in charge.”
Mindy cocked her head. “What about your pal, Jonah? Where does he fit in all this? You takin’ him along with you when you leave?”
“No. I’m afraid that wouldn’t be possible.”
“Why the hell not?” she asked.
Why not, indeed? Could he keep him like a servant or pet dog? Hardly. He’d ignore the question, though he knew it would gnaw at him later. Why the hell not? Because selfishness was the hallmark of his bloodline. Keeping a man dangling when one had nothing to give him was the ultimate selfish act. He wouldn’t indulge. “Let’s go,” he said. “Time for me to tell the others.”
Most of the company was already assembled on the bare ground where the big tent had stood only a few hours before. Rafe’s heart was pounding a mile a minute as he strode alongside Mindy toward the gathering.
He straightened his spine and walked to the center of the ring, then turned slowly, meeting all their gazes—all but Jonah’s. He skimmed past him, unable to look into his eyes.
“Many of you have known me since I first purchased this show from Mindy’s father on his retirement from the life. Those who were here then remember it as a time of adjustment, but eventually we grew used to one another, and I think you’ll agree our little show has been fairly successful. Until recently. Yes, we’ve had a bad turn with our luck. Maybe the Orcullys had a hand in some things that happened and maybe they didn’t. I know I promised you all last night I’d get to the bottom of it. But I realized there’s a much more important matter I need to tell you about, something I’ve been putting off for too long.”
He regarded the puzzled and concerned faces. Nothing good was usually contained in news withheld. Rafe cleared his throat.
“The truth is, I recently I learned of my brother’s death back in England, and duty calls me to go home and tend to my estate.”
“Estate?” Fisher muttered. “I knew it. A damn duke or something.”
“Not quite.” Rafe managed a smile. “But there is a title and property and responsibilities I’ve shirked for too long. My family needs me, and I must go. I’d hoped to see you through to the end of the season before bidding you all good-bye, but I’ve realized I’m only putting off the inevitable.”
And here he did allow his gaze to flick to Jonah’s just for a moment. The shock in the other man’s eyes was like a punch to his stomach.
Rafe rested his hand on Mindy’s shoulder. “Mindy has lived her entire life beneath these canvases and knows how a carnival is run more than any man here. I’ve sold my interest in the show to her.” The others needn’t know it was for a token amount. “I hope you’ll trust her judgment as she leads the show into a new phase in its long life. I’d considered selling out to the Orcullys, but realized Mindy was born to run this operation.”
“But the show needs you,” someone said.
“We are none of us irreplaceable,” Rafe parroted Parinsky’s words.
There was a moan from the group, and he had to look up to see if the sound came from Jonah. No, Parinsky stood there, fists at his sides, his face dark with anger. “I want to talk to you. Alone,” he added.
Rafe nodded. This might be his chance to get the aggressive fool to spill his secrets, and perhaps with a little pressure and a fair dose of alcohol, he’d confess to undermining the show. Rafe was about to agree to a meeting when another voice piped up. “There goes the Poe show. Your boyfriend is going to die of a broken heart.” The scorn in those words was clear. “Or are you taking your sweet little Talbot with you?” It was Jack Treanor.
Someone gasped. Another person tittered. Rafe’s thoughts raced. How odd. For one thing, Rafe strongly suspected Treanor also preferred men and that his pursuit of Miss Jamie was all for show. Why was he doing this? Treanor had directed a few hot glances at Jonah, so perhaps it was twisted jealousy.
Rafe realized he had to respond. “You really are an ignorant fool, Treanor,” he drawled. “That kind of scurrilous talk can get you in serious trouble.”
“So it’s a lie that you and Talbot are a hell of a lot more than good friends?”
Rafe knew how to take the measure of a crowd, and this one was too avidly interested. He understood that he had to say more—play this right, or risk real danger. The bruises on Jonah’s face… He saw the scene again, vicious men attacking a body on the ground. It would be Treanor who’d kick the hardest, he had no doubt. Rafe’s actions now had to be enough to protect Jonah from that ever happening again.
“You are an ass.” He held Treanor’s glare with one of his own and didn’t so much as glance at Jonah. “Every ugly word is false, and you know it.” His slight emphasis on “you” was a threat. Dig too deeply into my private life, and yours isn’t safe either. Treanor scowled back and didn’t say anything more.
Still watching Treanor, Rafe said, “Now, if you have some concerns about the show, let’s hear them. The rest of this garbage—I’m not interested in addressing that again. The rumors are all false.”
The faces turned toward him seemed less contorted with confusion or anger. After a moment of silence, a roustabout spoke up, wanting to know about the pay that week. Someone else wanted to know who would get Rafe’s wagon after he left. He reassured them there’d be no interruption in pay and that all processes would be fair and clear. His wagon would go to Mindy if she wanted it.
Rafe knew he was a good actor and was sure he’d convinced at least some of his listeners that his relationship with Jonah was innocent. He only hoped he was good enough to keep the despair from his face. He had to say those words, deny his affection for Jonah. He knew enough about this part of the world to understand that men like them were killed for acting on their impulses. Those bruises…
As he spoke, he at last risked a quick look in Jonah’s direction and saw how he stood, arms folded, staring down at nothing. Jonah’s mouth was pressed tight, and he looked miserable and as if he longed to flee but didn’t have that option, like a defendant listening to a sentence handed out by a hanging judge.
Rafe pulled out his watch and made a show of looking down at it in dismay. He wondered what Jonah thought of his imitation of the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. “My friends, it’s nearly time to move out. I will say a formal good-bye now, for I plan to board a train at the next town. It has been an honor to know and to work with each and every one of you.”
There was some talk of putting together a farewell “wake,” as one of the rousties said. Rafe laughed and said to hold the parties without him.
He forced himself to walk away briskly without another look at Jonah. Someone touched his arm. He turned, ready to apologize, explain, scold Jonah, but it was Parinsky who had stopped him.
“I beg your pardon. I forgot,” Rafe said icily. “What did you want to speak to me about?” He’d already given Parinsky a chance to talk, and he’d had nothing to say for himself. Rafe’s throat ached with searing anger. Anger at Treanor, at the world, and at himself. Mostly at himself.
“Goddamn it, you have no right to traipse off to your dukedom.”
Parinsky’s words were so unexpected, Rafe gaped at him for a moment before he managed an answer. “I’d have thought you’d be glad to see the back of me.”
“Hell, no. You have a contract with the company.” Parinsky cleared his throat. “No disrespect to Mindy, who’s smart as a whip, but it takes a friendly sort to run a show like this, and she’s sour as a lemon.”
Rafe nearly burst out laughing. The man who’d been complaining and sniping about him during his entire tenure as boss was now complaining that he would take off. “You’ll have to help her, then.”
“So you’re leaving before we catch the hoodlum who smashed up the mirrors? And what about the broken staubs, ripped canvas? And that axle. Huh? Just going to walk away? As if none of us matter?”
Rafe felt another sudden surge of rage. Losing Jonah and this carnival that he’d grown to love was going to hurt like the devil. He’d had enough pain. He’d repudiated Jonah because he’d had to keep them both safe. And before he left, he was going to have to figure out what Treanor was up to. And God knew he’d had enough of fighting with Parinsky to last a lifetime. Rafe clasped his hands behind his back rather than act on the desire to smash his fist into the man’s face. He even forced his voice to stay calm. “I have to return. People are dependent on me back in England.”
“They are here too.”
“No. They are dependent on the show, not on me.” He jammed his heel into a dark patch of dust. “Someone in the show is the culprit behind at least some of the incidents. I’ve wondered if it was you, to tell the honest truth, trying to drive me off. I’m less sure now that you’re carping at me about leaving. But I am not completely convinced you’re innocent.”
“Shit. That’s honest, all right.” Parinsky gave a sharp laugh. He gave Rafe an almost friendly smile.
Rafe sighed. He’d never understand Parinsky. “Have you considered the fact that if I leave the incidents will stop? Treanor’s words just now. The things people think about me. And Talbot.” He swallowed. “Maybe that’s why the attacks have occurred.”
“You think the attacks are aimed at you and your love life? That’s a bucket of spit, Grimstone. You’re not so conceited to think driving you off is at the bottom of it, are you?”
“Now who’s being utterly honest?” Rafe asked. But Parinsky was right, though. Once he’d said the words out loud, Rafe’d understood how ridiculous that fear was.
This strange new accord with Parinsky might not last, and he’d push it as far as he could. “Why do you suppose Treanor said those things? You’re friends with him. Do you know what he hopes to accomplish?”
“Beats me what he’s up to.” Parinsky shrugged. “For all his jabbering, Jack doesn’t say much. I expect with all the cancellations and troubles lately, he’s just tense.”
“We all are.” Rafe nodded to Charlie, the trumpeter and candy butcher, who walked past with a sack of sugar slung over his shoulder. He waited until the man passed before continuing. “Never mind Treanor, then. I want to know what is behind the destruction. Perhaps it isn’t directed at me, but I believe it has roots in hatred. Strong emotion lies at its core.”
“Naw. Seems to happen too regularly, like the attacks are on a schedule. Know what I mean? Plus, there’s the fact that it’s not getting worse.”
Rafe frowned. “I’d say you’re wrong. The smashing of the mirrors is the most destructive act yet.”
The other man sniffed and rubbed his nose. “Maybe so.”
Parinsky admitting he could be wrong and Rafe might be right? Hell must have frozen over. Parinsky narrowed his eyes and pushed out his lips into a pouty attitude of concentration. “Still. My guess is there’s money behind all this.”
“You’re single-minded about wealth,” Rafe said. “You’d always guess there’d be money as a goal.”
Rather than getting offended and shouting or sneering, Parinsky shook his head as if Rafe’s comment was an annoying fly buzzing around him. He fished his flask from a pocket and took a pull, wiped his lips, and said, “Here’s what I’d bet. Someone’s getting paid or will eventually gain something from all this.”
They’d reached the back of Rafe’s wagon. “Care for a bite to eat?” Rafe offered. It felt odd to offer Parinsky refreshments, but it was even odder to see the man nod.
When they walked around the other side of the wagon, they stopped dead. Jonah sat on the top step.
Parinsky gave another derisive snort. “Maybe I ought to come back later.”
Jonah rose and smiled at Parinsky as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Rafe wondered if he’d only imagined that look of defeated anger on his face earlier. Which was real? He wasn’t sure. Jonah was nearly as fine an actor as himself.
“Don’t leave, Mr. Parinsky. I’m the intruder.” Jonah pushed past Rafe without looking at him.
Rafe should have welcomed the dignified way Jonah was moving away from him. Perhaps this moment was the clean end to their intimacy—Rafe’s goal. Instead he blurted, “No. Please don’t go.” He cleared his throat. “We’re just discussing the sabotage of the show.”
“Oh.” Jonah lost the air of studied nonchalance. He might be angry with Rafe, or hurt, but apparently he cared about the show too.
“Got any theories?” Parinsky took another pull on his flask.
Jonah folded his arms and stared at the trees in the distance for a long moment before shaking his head. “No.”
Rafe wondered if the hesitation meant something. “None? You’re our one witness.”
Jonah looked in his general direction but didn’t meet his eyes. “I wish I knew who was doing it or why, but I can’t help you, boss.” The sour, tight way he’d tucked the corners of his mouth told Rafe that Jonah was upset. He wouldn’t have noticed that sign in another man, or perhaps he wouldn’t have given a damn. Now Rafe wanted to grab those stiff shoulders and shake them. Surely Jonah understood why he’d said those things, why he’d had to deny their intimacy in response to Treanor.
“How about trying something new? I got my watch,” Parinsky said. “Maybe you’re a suggestible sort, Talbot.” He waved a finger back and forth slowly to indicate the motion of a swinging watch.
Jonah stared. “Do you mean hypnotism?”
“Certainly. Why not?”
Rafe was mildly surprised that the charlatan Parinsky believed there might be something worthwhile about hypnotism.
Jonah clearly did. He shook his head and looked pale. “No. Maybe later, sir. Not now.” He turned and walked away.
Rafe watched him go, wondering if they’d ever meet again. Of course they would. Why had Jonah come to his wagon? He wished he could run after him to find out—and knew he’d be a fool to do anything of the sort.
“Well, well. That’s certainly interesting. He seemed almost afraid of hypnotism,” Parinsky said. “He certainly acted like he’s got some big secret when I asked him about what he saw. The only witness too. Are we sure he’s not the one who’s done it all?”
Rafe suspected the secrets Jonah clung to had nothing to do with the show. “I’m sure.”
He fed Parinsky a sandwich and some of the liquor the man had sold him a month earlier. Neither of them had any new ideas, but at least Parinsky was making a begrudging effort to act as an ally. He smoked one of his foul cigars and left.
Thank God. Rafe needed to take action, and he needed to be alone. He ignored the emptiness at the pit of his stomach that seemed to be shaped like Jonah. He had bowed to the inevitable, and thinking he could put it off until autumn was self-indulgent. It would take only a little time to pack his belongings. There was no reason to hang about now that the decision had been made. Not that it was a real decision on his part. He’d been born into those other responsibilities even if he’d never believed the day would come when he’d have to shoulder them. Edward had always seemed invincible, filled with good fortune and pure luck, until it had all run out at once. And even if his mother would have only hard words for him, Rafe must return home at last as Lord Darkwell.
He walked to the little cooking area and decided to leave all the dishes, pots, and pans for Mindy, but there was the cup he’d given to Jonah that first night. Rafe smiled as he thought of how Jonah had sputtered and gasped with his first encounter of Parinsky’s brew. Later Jonah had laughed too, willing to mock himself. Rafe could see that mouth curled into a smile, or those same lips damp and hot, slightly parted with need—or drawn tight with hurt.
Rafe held the battered metal cup for a moment before tucking it into his leather satchel.