A Gentleman's Position (Society of Gentlemen) (22 page)

“I dare say, my lord,” Philip said. “In my household, chastisement is done with a word of rebuke, not a blow to the face.”

“The doctor suspected a cracked rib from a kick,” Richard went on. “Fortunately, he fled Ashleigh House before Lord Maltravers could continue his assault with a club.”

“It was a stick!” Maltravers protested.

“A stick, then. You don’t deny you used a weapon.” David had suggested that trap; Richard felt a deep satisfaction in springing it.

“Good God, sir,” Lord Alvanley said. “What did the fellow
do
?”

“I don’t care. He is an artist, and you, Lord Maltravers, are a barbarian,” Julius said. “A Vandal.”

“This is a—a—a misrepresentation!” Maltravers was scarlet now. “The man was insolent and deceitful. I had every right—”

“Cyprian, why don’t you tell us why Lord Maltravers hit you?” Richard asked. David had sown the seed; he should be the one to wield the scythe now.

“Excuse me?” Francis snapped. “Richard, I have been insulted. I will not stand and wait on the chatter of your valet while my name is besmeared by this overstuffed brawn!”

“Kindly do,” Richard said. “You will find it relevant, I promise you.”

“This is not about a damned valet!” Maltravers put in at some volume. “You are attempting to distract attention from a monstrous crime against nature!”

“We will hear the valet,” Philip said. “
No,
Lord Maltravers, you may not expect to go unchallenged. Richard says this is relevant. If so”—he nodded at David—“proceed.”

David bowed, wincing with the movement. “I applied for a post with Lord Maltravers, my lord. He seemed urgent to employ me. He wrote several letters to demand my presence, and when I arrived, he dismissed his valet for no fault and drew up a contract on the spot, more than doubling the salary he had originally offered me—”

“Be
quiet,
” several men said over Maltravers’s outraged bellow.

“But this is not what happened!” Maltravers exclaimed.

David’s mouth tightened. “I have the contract his lordship signed and the letters he sent me. The valet can confirm my account, as can his lordship’s man of business. I am not a liar, my lord.”

“These are all easily tested claims,” Richard observed. “Do you deny them?”

“No, of course not, but—he told me to do all that!” Maltravers protested, and there was a roar of scornful laughter from the gentlemen around them. “I mean—”

“Be quiet,” Philip ordered the entire room. “Silence. This is no matter for jesting. You admit the valet tells the truth, Lord Maltravers?”

“The facts are true, but he
wished
me to employ him!”

“As servants do. I cannot understand your objection. Continue, Cyprian, and you must know that any deviation from the truth will be harshly treated.”

“There is no need to tell me that, Lord Cirencester.” David spoke with perfect, quiet dignity. Philip inclined his head; David went on. “Lord Maltravers began pressing questions on me. He asked me about Lord Gabriel and Mr. Webster, if I had seen signs of—uh—improper affection. I said, again and again, I had not. Then—” He glanced at Richard. “My lord, I don’t wish to say this.”

“Go on,” Alvanley and Philip said together.

“He began to make implications about Lord Richard. Fantasies, my lord, lurid imaginings, leading questions. He wanted me to—to invent a reason why I left his service, which— It was not true. It
is
not true.” David’s dignified manner was cracking now, showing distress. The crowd was deathly silent. Maltravers’s mouth worked soundlessly.

“I would not say it,” David went on, his voice thin and tense. “I refused. He shouted, he said that was why he had taken me on, and he hit me then, in the face, in the ribs. I was terrified, my lord. He went to get a weapon, uttering threats, and I fled the house. And I returned to beg shelter of Lord Richard because…” The men around him strained forward to hear as his words dropped to a whisper. “Because I was afraid for my life.”

The silence hung heavy. Richard took two steps forward and put his hand on David’s shoulder. “You did right. There; that is all that is required of you. Thank you.”

“Lord Maltravers,” Lord Alvanley said, voice very cold and clear. “Is this true?”

Maltravers was crimson and sweating. “It is misspoken. Twisted.”

“Did you employ this man on the terms he described?”

“Yes, but—”

“Did you ask him questions implying a criminal relationship between Lord Gabriel and Mr. Webster?”

“Yes, because—”

“Did you encourage a servant to invent slander about my brother?” Philip put in, with barely contained anger.
“Did you?”

“He led me to believe he could tell me those things!”

“You hired a valet in the hope of scurrilous gossip, and when he failed to deliver it, you beat him bloody. Is that the case,
my lord
?” Philip was a thin man of nothing like Richard’s impressive height and build, but he did not need them. He stood in the full majesty of fifteen years as Cirencester, two steps below the king himself, as unchallengeable and authoritative as ever their father had been. “Your acts are incomprehensible. Explain yourself.”

“He was working for Lord Richard,” Maltravers panted. “He must have been. All the time. It was a plot.”

“I asked for an explanation, not for accusations and excuses,” Philip said. “Have the goodness to confine yourself to fact.”

Maltravers was looking around frantically. “I tell you, this is a plot. Gabriel wrote a letter of filthy postures and obscenities to the man Webster. I had the letter, it has merely been misplaced. Lord Richard must have known about it and sent his valet to—to search my house for it—”

“He’s a valet, not a Bow Street Runner,” Richard said. “And I knew nothing of this fantasy but what you told me this very morning. If I had known earlier, I should have spoken to you earlier.”

“Cyprian led me to believe—” Maltravers looked around the room. His station had meant he was always received, and mostly treated, with respect. He had never needed to win over opinions before. Richard saw the need dawning on him far, far too late, even as he pulled himself straight. “I give you my word as Warminster’s heir, sirs. Every word I have spoken is the truth.”

“I think we all know the worth of your words, Maltravers,” Sir James Cairn said. “This is disgraceful.”

“Curse it, do you think I should invent such a business? About my own brother?”

“You have invented sufficient business about
my
brother.” Philip was stiff with anger. “On your own telling, my lord, you stole letters, you hired a valet for gossip and beat him when he showed a decency you should emulate, and you set out to ruin your brother’s good name. Even were your allegations true, every feeling must be revolted. As it is, you produce no evidence but lies and bluster. I wonder at you, sir, and I shall have words for your father on your conduct.”

There were strong noises of agreement from around the room. Someone muttered, “It’s the mercury draughts. Mad as a hatter,” and several men chuckled.

“I am telling the truth,” Lord Maltravers insisted. “And if I had to take measures I regretted to prove it—”

“You are a lying hound,” Francis bit out.

“You should hang as a sodomite!”

Julius grabbed Francis’s arm again. Ash’s friend Freddy said loudly, “Well, you know about hanging, Maltravers,” and there was an explosion of laughter from a number of men. Philip glared them into silence. David’s face was exceptionally wooden. Richard made a mental note to find out what the devil that was about.

“I will not stand for these accusations,” Francis was saying, shaking Julius off. “I will not have them repeated.”

“He’ll never stop,” Ash said wearily. “He still says he didn’t break my rocking horse when I was five, and both my sisters saw him do it. He’ll never admit he was wrong. I’m not sure if he knows when he is.”

That had the ring of absolute truth, and it was the coup de grâce. There was no doubt at all in the faces around the room now. “I did not credit the recent remarks I have heard ascribed to you, Lord Maltravers,” Alvanley said. “Perhaps I should have.”

Maltravers turned on his brother, face savage, but Richard was already walking up to him. “My lord, your quarrel with Ash and Webster is your business. I have no say in that except that I consider your conduct shameful in the extreme. But everyone here has heard that you encouraged a servant to invent obscene slander against me. What have you to say about that?”

“I say be damned to you,” Lord Maltravers snarled, and Richard hit him.

It was an excellent punch. Richard had planned it with care; it carried seventeen stone of outrage, frustration, and bitter resentment; and it landed on Lord Maltravers’s cheek just where David’s face was bruised. Lord Maltravers lurched backward, steadied himself, and came charging in again with more courage than Richard had expected. Richard sidestepped his wild blow, put a right hook into his ribs, and swung an uppercut to his jaw that snapped Lord Maltravers’s head back. He stumbled a pace, tripped over somebody’s foot, and hit the floor.

“Good God, Lord Richard,” Alvanley said into the stunned silence. “We are in White’s.”

“I beg your pardon, gentlemen.” Richard stepped back. “And I am very ready to give Lord Maltravers satisfaction as soon as he asks me for it.”

“When he does so—I dare say he is somewhat stunned still—I trust you will name me as a friend,” Julius said.

“It is unacceptable for my brother to duel Warminster’s heir.” Philip spoke with all his authority. “There can be no question of such a thing, Richard. I forbid it.”

“Considering what he said about your wife—” Sir James began, and stopped dead as Richard and Philip turned on him together.

“I beg your pardon?” Philip said softly.

Sir James put his hands up. “I mean no insult, Cirencester, none in the world. Maltravers was offensive. I shan’t repeat it.”

“My brother and now my wife.” Philip’s face was white. “Get up, Lord Maltravers. Get up
now.
”

“Enough.” Lord Alvanley’s deep voice resonated with command. “I shall be obliged if someone will escort Lord Maltravers from the premises as soon as he can stand. Lord Richard, I expect you will wish to make your apologies to the club in writing. It seems to me obvious from the absurdity of these allegations that Lord Maltravers is unwell, and I am sure his words will be disregarded on that account. I dare say no man in this room will stoop to repeat such things.” That was a clear threat, and there was a general murmur of acquiescence.

“Unwell, perhaps,” Philip said. “Notwithstanding, I regret that I cannot remain a member of any club that admits Lord Maltravers.”

“Hear, hear!” said Freddy loudly, and went red.

“The committee will discuss Lord Maltravers’s membership,” Alvanley said. “Lord Richard, I see no need for your valet to remain with us. Or—whose valet is he?”

“Mine.” Maltravers was sitting up, rubbing his jaw with a savage expression. “
My
damned valet. I have a contract with you, sirrah.”

“Take him to court,” Richard told him. “If a magistrate feels the need to punish him because he is unwilling to be beaten to death, I shall pay whatever fine may be levied.”

“A number of men in this room would be happy to do so,” Julius said. “Cyprian, since you are without a position—”

“
I
should be most interested to discuss that,” Lord Alvanley said.

Julius gave him a narrow look. “Excuse me, my lord, I have prior claim. I have been trying to poach him for years.”

A number of other men spoke at once. “This is unseemly,” Philip said over them all. “You are excused, Cyprian. Lord Maltravers, your presence is unwelcome amongst gentlemen.”

Maltravers heaved himself up. He shot a look of pure hatred at Ash and left in silence. David slid out after him, keeping a long way behind.

“Well, good heavens,” Alvanley said. “In White’s. What is the world coming to?”

Philip shook his head. “I shall speak to Warminster. Richard, you will kindly attend me now. I have some things to say to you.”

“How was it?” Julius asked. They were gathered in the private rooms at Quex’s the next evening, he and Harry, Dominic, Francis, Ash, and Richard. The last twenty-four hours had been, to say the least, lively. “Did you fall under Cirencester’s disapproval?”

“He wasn’t best pleased,” Richard said. “He does not like that sort of attention at all, and he felt that I should not have involved myself in such a sordid matter.” That was putting it mildly. Philip had been outraged by the whole sorry business, and worse had been the question that inevitably followed:
Does this have anything to do with the affair you spoke of?

Not that Philip had been near the truth. His fear had been that Richard’s involvement was with Lord Maltravers’s fiancée or, worse, one of his married sisters. Richard had looked his brother in the eye and assured him,
No, that had nothing to do with the business,
with bruises from avenging David’s injuries already dark on his knuckles.

Philip had feared Richard was pursuing some illicit agenda and had still stood by his side without question.

“He is the best brother in the world,” Richard said. “And I for one was very grateful for his intervention.”

“He was magnificent,” Francis said. “I would have thought you’d cooked it up with him if it was conceivable Cirencester would do such a thing.” He was sitting with Ash on his lap. The young nobleman looked subdued and rather miserable.

“And he has spoken to Warminster,” Richard added. “He went there today. I think he has become somewhat tired of Lord Warminster’s manner over the years, so I dare say he made his point with force.”

“I’m sorry for Warminster then,” Harry said wholeheartedly. He was terrified of Philip. “I shouldn’t thank Maltravers for letting me in for that dressing down.”

“I don’t suppose he’s pleased about that appalling pamphlet either,” Francis said. “My God. I suppose you’ve all read it by now?”

Richard had not. “For some reason, a copy has not reached my house. Since almost every gentleman I know appears to have been handed it by his valet—”

“I certainly was,” Julius said sourly. “Can I assume we all know who is responsible for that scurrilous libel?”

Everyone looked to Dominic. He hunched his shoulders, the very image of Mason, and growled, “Couldn’t say.”

“Naturally,” Richard said. “Was there a particular libel I should know about?”

“The pamphlet was designed to undermine Maltravers,” Dominic said, returning to his normal tones. “However, for verisimilitude, it included a certain amount of other scandal. And of course it was necessary to avert suspicion by making one of us a target.”

“Of course,” Richard repeated, with deep foreboding. “Ah, who…?”

“It suggested, among other allegations, that Julius has a peculiar habit of bestowing offensive names on ladies of pleasure during the act.” Dominic was entirely failing to keep a straight face. “With examples.”

“Your accursed werewolf—” Julius began, and stopped short as understanding dawned. “I see. That is Mason’s revenge, I take it.”

Dominic shrugged. “If you must insult Silas, you may face the consequences.”

Julius glowered. Harry patted his arm in a way that would have been comforting if he’d been able to stop grinning.

“We all make sacrifices, Julius,” Richard assured him.

“I did
not
make a sacrifice. Your valet and your werewolf made a sacrifice of me.”

“I’m sure you would have volunteered, had you been asked.”

“Oh, be damned to Julius’s reputation. It’ll do him good,” Francis said. “Richard, how in God’s name did Cyprian get that false letter into Maltravers’s hands? I know he had Ash write one—”

“He let himself into Skelton’s room while the man slept, searched it, and found the letter in his desk drawer,” Richard said. “Maltravers had sealed it, I suppose to discourage Skelton from reading it, so Cyprian had to break the seal to confirm he had the right one. He then went back to Quex’s, got Maltravers’s seal off his contract of employment, applied it to the false letter, and let himself into Skelton’s room
again
to put the counterfeit in the desk.”

“He must have nerves like hawsers,” Dominic said. “Good heavens.”

“Why the counterfeit? Why not just steal the letter?” Harry asked.

“To confuse matters and because he didn’t want Maltravers blaming Skelton for the letter’s loss,” Richard said. “But it seems that when Maltravers sent to Skelton for the letter, he passed it over without examination. A sealed letter from a drawer—why would either of them look closely? So Maltravers walked into White’s with the counterfeit in his pocket, which is something I shan’t soon forget.”

“That was the single worst moment of my entire life,” Francis said. “I thought that everything had gone wrong and all your promises had been in vain. You looked like a Roman statue, Richard.” He tightened his arm round Ash’s shoulders. “And you were magnificent, my Gabriel.”

“He’ll never speak to me again.” Ash’s voice was low. “Which is good, because I never want to speak to him again. It comes to something when my own brother wants to see me hang, and I try to make the world think he’s a madman.”

“And succeed,” Julius said. “Be damned to him, Ash.”

Harry went over to give Ash a hug. “He’s right. Maltravers started this. You had no choice.”

“What about Skelton?” Richard asked. “Is he likely to be a problem?”

“Far from it,” Dominic said. “He has accepted the Admiralty post. I didn’t think they’d offer it to him, as it’s a significant promotion, but my friend on the board found him most impressive. Which means he will no longer have anything to do with pursuit of radicals.”

“Really?” Harry yelped. “Oh, thank God!”

“It is a relief,” Dominic agreed. “He knew blasted well that you and Silas had some sort of case to answer. Without his pursuit, I think, if the pair of you can keep out of trouble, trouble may stop coming after you.”

“I really will try,” Harry assured him. “Honestly.”

Dominic didn’t look quite convinced. “We can but hope. Talking of posts, Rich, have you engaged a valet yet?”

Richard blinked. “Not as such, no.”

“Do you not think it’s time you did?”

“I will thank you to leave me to my own business.”

“Then we shall.” Dominic rose. “Come, gentlemen. Richard has household affairs to attend to. Good evening, my dear fellow. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

David was somewhere in Quex’s, Richard knew, communing with his allies in the depths of the house. Richard sent a request for his presence along with an order for a bottle and waited alone in the private rooms. It should not take long for him to come; Richard almost wished it would be longer. If he got this wrong…

Soon enough there was the familiar quiet knock, and David came in.

“Good evening,” Richard said. “Will you drink?”

David’s eyes went to the bottle. “Champagne?”

“I think we may celebrate. You have done wonders.” He held out a glass. David took it but didn’t sip. “I am in awe at your gift for forgery, incidentally. The seal held until I broke it. I had no idea you were so talented.”

David shrugged. “I never knew you had such a good right hook.”

“I did say I would make him pay. David, the slander against Eustacia…”

“Sir James was making trouble, I believe. Lord Maltravers has made a number of disobliging remarks about her appearance over the years.”

“You didn’t tell me that.”

“I didn’t feel you would want to know when you weren’t in a position to hit him.”

“True, but I wish I’d hit him harder. David—”

“Lord Gabriel should be safe now, as should Silas,” David interrupted. “The letter is burned. Lord Maltravers is the object of contempt and distrust, his word worth nothing. I have done what you wished when you summoned me.”

“More than I could have hoped. I owe you a great deal.”

“My pleasure.” David’s face was guarded, inexpressive.
Nervous,
perhaps, or at least Richard hoped so. “You wanted to talk.”

“I do. I have yet another request to make of you. Even larger than the last.” Richard put down his glass and took David’s from his hands. “I want you back. I want you as my lover, my right hand, my devious, lying, counterfeiting, entirely unprincipled fox.” He took a deep breath. “My valet.”

David’s lips parted silently.

“I want you blacking my boots, solving my problems, and sharing my bed. I want you to accept a situation of gross injustice with no safeguard except your trust in me. I want you to be that foolish, vulnerable creature, a servant who warms his master’s sheets, and only the two of us will know that I am not the master here.” He stared into David’s eyes, praying his own showed his sincerity. “And I swear to you, if you will give me that trust, I will be worthy of it. Whatever may befall between us, no matter whether you change your mind, I will always behave as the man I ought to be. The man you need me to be. As though I had your mother’s eyes upon me.”

David gave a startled choke of laughter. Richard took him gently by the shoulders. “I love you, David. Will you be with me?”

“As your valet,” David said.

“If you will. Or if there is a position you would prefer, as long as it
is
what you prefer, name it. I will be glad of any means by which you may be by my side and in my bed. Or on my floor, even. Will you please say something?”

David looked down silently, then lifted his face. His eyes were very bright. “How about against the wall?”

Richard grabbed him by the waist and hoisted him up, reaching the wall in just a few swift steps. He pushed David against it. David wrapped his legs around Richard’s hips and his arms round his shoulders, and Richard kissed him without thought of consequence, without care for his bruises or his position, with nothing except David’s lips and teeth and tongue in his mind. David rocked against him with startling abandon, bracing himself on Richard’s body with feet flat against his thighs, and Richard kissed him with hunger and with wonder, until they were both gasping.

David slid down to get his feet on the floor and pulled Richard to him by the lapels of his coat. David’s lips were hot and wet, his eyes wild. “Richard. You have no idea how long I have waited for you to kiss me like that.”

“Four years and seven months. Are you coming back to me?”

“We still haven’t resolved the question of the wall,” David pointed out. “I think that’s crucial.”

Richard pushed him back, holding him to the wall with one hand on his shoulder and the hard press of lips, grabbing for the fastening of David’s trousers with his free hand. He dealt with the buttons with better speed than before and pushed his hand into David’s clothing, feeling his moan as a vibration of lips and tongue. David’s prick was hard to Richard’s fingers, and Richard worked it ruthlessly, ignoring David’s muffled sounds of pleasure and unconvincing protest, making sure David could not twist free, or move from the wall, or do anything but let himself be frigged mercilessly. He squirmed and then groaned surrender under Richard’s mouth, and at last, Richard felt his cry with a shiver of triumph as David spent, thrusting in his hand.

He lifted his lips away as David’s head lolled but kept his hand pressed lovingly tight. “Does that deal with your concerns, you trifling swine? And I have dozens of walls if that’s what you want. I have houses full of walls and floors doing nothing but holding up the roofs, and before you suggest it, I refuse to fuck you on a roof unless we can be absolutely sure of the rafters. In the name of God, will you give me an answer so I can stop babbling?”

“Oh, of course I’m coming back,” David said. “Don’t be absurd.”

“As my valet?”

“As your valet.”

“Thank the Lord for that,” Richard said, leaning forward against him in bone-melting relief. “My boots are a disgrace.”

David spluttered with laughter, shaking with it, and Richard kissed his neck, his ear, everywhere he could reach. “My fox. Will you come home tonight?”

“Not until we have a contract and I’m free of Maltravers’s. Believe me, the servants would notice. Talking of appearances, the hair powder—”

“I adore your hair. If I am permitted to touch it occasionally, I want to look at it all the time. Discard the livery while you’re about it.”

“I’d rather keep wearing it. It suits me better than black.”

And it made him look like a servant. Perhaps that was for the best—a reminder to be careful when they were not alone. “It does suit you very well. Are you content with this?” Richard pulled back to examine his lover’s eyes. “I know your position is far from perfect.”

“I never asked for perfect,” David said. “It is not ideal for you either. Can you be content with a valet?”

“My valet, my friend, my redheaded bastard. I must be content with you because I have been so discontented without you that I am astonished my friends are still speaking to me. I love you, David. And I know very well that no man is a hero to his valet, but I shall do my damnedest.”

“That is all I could have asked.” David skimmed his fingertips over Richard’s face. “It is more than I hoped and—about as much as I dreamed, in fact, but I have
very
ambitious dreams.”

“Mine are simple,” Richard said. “You in my bed for as long as you can be there. And I, my fox, entirely at your service.”