Christopher roused himself enough to be able to crawl over to the window looking out onto the front of the house when he heard the sound of a carriage drawing up in the street below. It was still light outside, which meant it was far too early for any of the staff who worked in the Apollo Club to be arriving for the evening. Besides which, none of them were wealthy enough to be able to hire or own a carriage.
His heart sped up when he looked down into the street and instantly recognized the crest on the black carriage outside as belonging to Maxim, the Duke of Lancaster. He drew in a sharp breath when the tall and imposing duke stepped down onto the cobbled roadside before placing his hat upon his head. Christopher’s eyes widened when he recognized the Duke of Wulferston and the Earl of Stonyhurst as they descended from the carriage behind the Duke of Lancaster.
Christopher quickly ducked down out of sight as all three gentlemen paused to look up at the frontage of the building they owned.
He had intended, after leaving Lancaster House in the early hours of the morning, to collect his few belongings from the attic of the club before taking himself off to find other lodgings where he might rest until he felt healed enough to seek new employment.
Unfortunately, by the time Christopher had staggered his way back to the Apollo Club and managed to sneak in the front door without being seen, then crawling up to the attic, the welts on his back, buttocks, and thighs had been screaming in protest at the severity of the agony he was in.
The only positive thing about the depth of pain was that it didn’t allow him to think of anything other than reaching the sanctuary of the Apollo Club. Least of all for him to dwell on thoughts of the humiliation of his release in front of Maxim Armitage the previous evening.
All Christopher knew for certain was that he could not face the duke again after embarrassing himself in his presence so thoroughly.
Lying down to rest and catch his breath once he reached the attic of the club had extended to several hours after he’d unintentionally fallen asleep. When he did finally wake, it was already daylight and his body was burning with a fever and racked with pain.
He would stay just one more day and night, he’d promised himself when he realized he was too ill to get down the stairs, let alone seek other lodging. After which, he would leave the club as stealthily as he had entered, with hopefully no one any the wiser as to his having been there at all.
Having the Duke of Lancaster and two of the three other gentleman who owned the club now arrive together caused Christopher to question what they were all doing here at the same time. They usually took it in turn to spend the evening here, acting as host to the club members.
For a few panicked moments, Christopher wondered if they could possibly know of his presence in the attic and had come to forcibly remove him from the premises. But he dismissed that idea as being illogical: he was so slight in built and stature, a single one of those gentlemen would have been able to escort him out of the club.
Which meant they must all be here to decide on the fate of the chef locked in the storeroom. Whatever they decided to do with him, Christopher hoped it was enough to ensure that no other young men were bullied into a sexual situation with the disgusting pederast.
Thinking about it any more deeply than that was too much effort for Christopher right now, when his body was still so painful and feverish and his mind too cloudy to think rationally.
Instead, he managed to drag himself back to his makeshift bed before collapsing back into a fever-induced sleep.
“What on earth—?” Maxim rushed forward when, having walked through to the alley at the back of the club, he saw the body of Henry slumped to the ground in the cobbled courtyard.
A quick glance on his way to check on Henry showed Maxim the lock on the storeroom was broken and the door hanging off its hinges. The chef was no longer a prisoner inside.
Maxim went down on his knees beside the fallen man, breathing a sigh of relief when he discerned a weak pulse in Henry’s neck. A quick inspection revealed the guard had probably been knocked out by the force of the blow that caused a swelling on the side of his head.
“We should carry him inside and call for the doctor,” Maxim prompted the other two men.
It took all three of them to achieve that. They were all fit gentlemen, sparring in the boxing ring often as well as honing their skills with sword and pistol. But the guard probably weighed twenty stone or more and was a deadweight in his unconscious state. Nevertheless, they finally managed to lay Henry down on one of the leather couches inside the club.
Maxim had to admit, to himself, at least, that after ascertaining that Henry was still alive, his thoughts had immediately shifted to Christopher.
What if the chef, unlike Maxim, did know where the younger man resided? The chef’s displeasure at having lost his lucrative position at the Apollo club was sure to be immense.
So much so that he would want to take out his anger on the undefended man he had so recently attacked?
That could not be allowed to happen.
It was damned frustrating not having the addresses of the young men who worked at the club. Originally, that decision had been made for their protection. This way, if the authorities ever had reason to investigate the club, there was no written proof of the names and addresses of the people who worked here.
Maxim now found that decision decidedly unhelpful. It might also have put Christopher in danger of the chef’s retribution.
“Maxim…”
Stonyhurst calling his name caused Maxim to rouse himself. He glanced over to where his two friends now stepped back to allow the now fully conscious Henry to swing his legs to the floor and lever himself into a sitting position.
The large man winced as he gingerly touched his fingertips to where a bump the size of a hen’s egg protruded on the side of his head.
“Do you have any idea who attacked you?” Stonyhurst prompted softly.
Henry scowled. “It were Archie Brown an’ a couple o’ his mates. ’E managed to ’it me in the stomach afore I knew he was there. ’E got me the second time, ’cos I was bent over in pain from the first blow.”
“You know this gentleman?” Wulferston prompted.
“Not know ’im as such,” the guard dismissed. “Archie is well-known about these parts for dealin’ in smuggled goods.”
“And why would he have ’it—hit you?” Maxim corrected himself impatiently. “Before helping the chef to escape?”
Henry gave it some thought. “I’m finking they might be related in some way. Archie is as big as the chef, and there’s a bit of a likeness in their faces, so I’m finking they’s rela’ed.”
These questions were all well and good, and they might eventually lead to them recapturing the chef, but they were no help whatsoever in helping Maxim discover where Christopher might be. “Do you have any idea where Christopher Brooks resides?”
The other three men all turned to look at him, Henry with a puzzled frown, Wulferston knowingly, and Stonyhurst with his usual compassion.
Maxim had no time for any of those emotions. “After knocking you out, Chef Pierre and Archie Brown might have gone looking for Christopher next to further appease their anger.” He pointed out what was very obvious to him, if not to any of them.
Henry’s brow cleared. “They might at that. I don’ know much abowt the boys as works ’ere, but one of ’em might know where Mr. Brooks lives.”
“Billy is certainly cheeky enough to have probed into Mr. Brooks’s private affairs,” Wulferston bit out caustically.
Maxim shot his friend an irritated glance. The fact Wulferston did not seem to approve of the extremely likeable Billy was of absolutely no import to Maxim. He was only concerned for Christopher’s continued welfare.
He nodded. “Then we must find Billy and question him.”
Stonyhurst glanced at the pocket watch he’d taken from his waistcoat. “All of the club’s staff will be arriving for the evening in a couple of hours, Billy amongst them.”
“I cannot wait that long,” Maxim snapped.
“I’m afraid you will have to, old chap,” Wulferston drawled.
“But they might manage to find Christopher before—” Maxim broke off to sniff the air. “Can any of you smell burning?” He drew in several more deep breaths.
“I can,” Wulferston confirmed without losing any of his usual calm.
“Me too.” Henry rose to his feet, swaying only slightly before regaining his balance.
“I believe… Yes. I can smell it too, and it’s coming from the back of this building.” Stonyhurst strode quickly away from them to enter the kitchen.
Maxim followed him, Wulferston and the injured Henry close behind him.
The kitchen looked as neat and clean as usual, but the smell of burning was stronger in here. Not only the smell of it, but there were wispy puffs of gray smoke entering beneath the door through which they had all entered the club just a few minutes earlier.
Maxim hurried to throw open the door. It allowed them to see the wooden structure of the storeroom adjoining this building, where Henry had been lying unconscious just a few minutes earlier, was now engulfed in flames, with ever-thickening smoke billowing up toward the sky.
The storeroom had either been alight when they carried Henry inside the building or had been set alight since.
Either way, stepping out into the alley allowed them to see that the first floor of the Apollo Club, which had beams in its structure, was also on fire and threatening to set alight the wooden beams on the floor above.
“How on earth—”
“Never mind how or when,” Wulferston cut in sharply. “If we don’t manage to dampen these flames, then I fear we shall lose the whole building and perhaps many more in the street besides.”
Fires in London, where the buildings were sometimes so close together as to almost touch, were something to be avoided at all costs.
For the next hour, the four men fought valiantly, with the aid of other residents in the area and the volunteer fire service, also wishing to stop the fire from spreading. It was a losing battle, the flames quickly spreading to the interior of the ground and first floors. The delay had helped them to remove the alcohol inside the building, which was like to explode in the excessive heat, but otherwise, the fire was too well entrenched to be stopped.
“I fought ya said as there was no one inside?”
Maxim turned to look at one of the volunteers, knowing his face must be as smoke smeared as the other man’s. “There isn’t.”
“Then wha’ the ’ell’s that up there?” The man pointed toward the top floor of the building.
The top floor where a pale and terrified face could clearly be seen pressed against one of the windows.
A face Maxim instantly recognized as belonging to Christopher.
“What are you doing, man?” Wulferston’s hand on Maxim’s arm stopped him from running into the burning building.
“Christopher is in there!” he declared frantically.
Wulferston’s grip loosened slightly as he glanced up at the building, those few seconds’ distraction allowing Maxim to shake off his hold completely before he ran into the smoke and flames that was once the Apollo Club.