The Duke's Deception (2 page)

Garnett led him across the sitting room and into his bedroom, spelling more lights—dimmer this time—into existence. He let go of Larkin's hand but didn't let him go, grabbing the front of his jacket instead. He started undoing the buttons, and Larkin laughed, unable to help it.

"Are you taking advantage of me, your highness?" Larkin asked, unable to keep the words from spilling out. Garnett rolled his eyes, but his cheeks turned faintly red under the mage lights.

"I'm trying to make sure you don't get blood all over your bedding." Garnett finished with the buttons and started gently pulling the jacket off. Larkin flinched away when that set off a sharp pain that sunk in even past the healing potion.

"No, stop," Larkin said. "Cut it off. I'm sure it's ruined anyway."

"Do you have a knife or something that I can use?" Garnett asked, not arguing. He looked uncertain, and Larkin stifled a giggle, wondering how often Garnett actually found himself in someone else's bedchamber. Not very often if gossip was to be believed.

"Right boot," Larkin said, shifting his weight to his left foot and nearly tumbling to the ground.

"I'm not even going to ask why you carry a knife in your boot," Garnett said, sighing. "Sit down."

"I wouldn't tell you anyway," Larkin said cheerfully, letting Garnett guide him over to the edge of the bed. He sat down heavily, shutting his eyes briefly against the wave of exhaustion that crashed over him.

"Of course you wouldn't," Garnett said. He sounded sad about that, but Larkin didn't have it in him to reassure Garnett that it wasn't his fault. Garnett tugged off his boots, fishing the little knife from the inner pocket. "Hold out your right arm as far as you can."

Larkin obliged, shutting his eyes again. He didn't want to see what his arm looked like. Garnett efficiently sliced through the sleeves of his jacket and shirt, his touch gentle. He barely jostled Larkin's arm at all as he carefully peeled the blood-soaked fabric away. He tossed it aside then disappeared. Larkin cracked his eyes open again, watching as Garnett fetched a cloth from the washbasin, soaking it before returning to Larkin's bedside.

"This might sting," Garnett warned then started washing the blood off of Larkin's arm. Larkin couldn't not look at it, wincing at the cuts and scrapes scored into it. Would the healing potion mitigate any scars? "Who did this?"

Larkin hissed when Garnett pressed too hard against a cut, trying to focus enough to answer the question without giving anything more away. It was probably better to dodge than attempt to invent anything, at least until he had his wits back. "A different question won't get you different answers."

Garnett paused in his ministrations but resumed after a moment. "I'll keep asking until you tell me," Garnett said. He probably would, but Larkin couldn't worry about that right now. Garnett was only easily deflected when he let himself be. Larkin had made something of an art of deflecting Garnett over the last few years, but given the night's events, he doubted Garnett would back off anymore.

Garnett lifted his hand, gently running the cloth over Larkin's palm and down each of his fingers. It was a surprisingly intimate touch, and Larkin shut his eyes against the wants and wishes he couldn't have. Garnett drew back, saying something that Larkin couldn't understand over the dull rush in his ears. His last thought was that he should probably settle into bed properly before he passed out.

*~*~*

"I don't see why that wouldn't work," Larkin said quietly, smiling pleasantly at Lady Belrose. "My supplier can be fickle, so it may take an extra day or two, but the amount isn't an issue."

"Wonderful," Belrose enthused. Her eyes were a little too bright as she patted his arm, her smile a little too wide. "You can send it to my townhouse, yes?"

"Like before," Larkin said. The tremor in her fingers was faint, only noticeable because he knew to look for it. "The series is a fantastic read. I'm sure you won't be disappointed."

"If it comes from you, your grace, I am never disappointed," Belrose said. She glanced across the room to a gaggle of ladies who were pretending not to watch them. "If you'll excuse me, I want to tell Alice. She's always so excited when you have new books to recommend to us."

"Of course," Larkin said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. She smiled at him—again, too wide, too fake—and slipped away.

The garden party was a small gathering, only a hundred or so guests milling about. Lord Paquet was hosting just enough of the right people that Larkin had to go despite his inclination to stay in bed for another three days.

The healing potion he'd taken was either much more potent than the ones Garnett had experienced, or Larkin was overly sensitive to them, for he'd slept for closer to twenty hours and woke up feeling like was recovering from a severe case of the flu instead of from a simple overindulgence of wine. Larkin had spent another day or so hiding away in his quarters, begging illness to any who came knocking.

"You're looking better."

Larkin turned, hoping he didn't look as startled as he felt. He hadn't heard Garnett approach—hadn't even known Garnett was attending this event. Garnett, his manservant informed him, had stopped by three times. In the first stroke of luck Larkin had had all week, he'd been trying to sleep off the aftereffects of the potion each time.

Garnett cut a fine figure in perfectly tailored, dark blue jacket that set off his blue eyes and lent him a solemn air. Not that he needed the aid, given the serious set to his face.

"You're not looking too bad yourself, your highness," Larkin said. He smiled easily at Garnett, the same sweet, empty smile he gave all the men and women he sold to. "I wasn't aware you enjoyed Lord Paquet's events."

"You've been avoiding me," Garnett said, lowering his voice. He stepped closer, ostensibly so that Larkin could hear him better. Larkin raised his eyebrows, calculating his chances of weaseling out of this conversation.

"I was ill, didn't you hear?" Larkin asked, wrinkling his nose. "Nasty bit of stomach upset, though it's thankfully passed."

Garnett scoffed, though he didn't contradict Larkin out loud. "It looked more serious than stomach upset to me."

"Did it really? Well, I'm well on the road to recovery, your highness, but I appreciate your concern," Larkin said. He resisted the urge to flex his fingers. His arm was still sore even though all the cuts and gashes had healed completely—at least on the surface. "If you'll excuse me, I—"

"No," Garnett said, a grim smile flashing across his face. Larkin really didn't want to contemplate who had noticed Garnett or Garnett's interest in him.

"I'm sorry?"

"No, I will not excuse you," Garnett said. His eyes never left Larkin's, a steady, piercing gaze that left Larkin with the unsettling thought that Garnett could see right through him. "You owe me answers. I can try to find them on my own, but somehow I doubt you want me looking too hard into your affairs."

"You have questions about my
affairs
?" Larkin asked, smiling slowly at Garnett. "I'm not one to kiss and tell, your highness."

Garnett didn't flinch from that despite Larkin's last hopes for distraction. Garnett continued to watch him, and Larkin fought the urge to squirm. "So you're telling me I should make my own, very public, inquiries as to where your injuries came from the other night? And why you were in a position to get them?"

"Are you telling me this doesn't seem public to you?" Larkin asked. "Or are our definitions of public different?"

Garnett inclined his head, apparently conceding that point. "When can I speak with you privately, then?"

"I'd prefer not at all, but since you're insisting…" Larkin trailed off, debating what the best way to handle this was. If he didn't show to whatever meeting, then Garnett would simply track him down again and not let him go that time.

"I am insisting."

"Then come by my rooms this evening at your leisure. I believe you're familiar with where they are?" Larkin asked, giving Garnett another quick, easy smile.

"Don't dodge me," Garnett said. He finally looked away from Larkin, glancing past Larkin's shoulder. Larkin felt like he could breathe again, but before he had a chance to think about that, a small woman dressed in bright pink silk breezed up to his side.

"Pardon my interruption, your highness, but could I possibly steal Lord Giroux from you?" Alice Royer asked, smiling prettily at Garnett. "He promised me to show me Lord Paquet's roses earlier, and I have to leave soon."

"Of course, Miss Royer," Garnett said, even summoning a smile from somewhere for her. He was much more handsome when he smiled; the expression softened him, erasing years of tension and worry from his face.  

"It was a pleasure conversing with you, your highness," Larkin said. If the words carried a bit of sarcastic bite, well, that was best for appearance's sake. "Shall we, Miss Royer?"

Garnett thankfully let him go without another word. Larkin took Alice's arm and led her away from the party into the gardens. Alice was quiet as they walked, waiting until they reached the roses, which were a good distance away from the party and the stragglers who had moved away from it in search of their own bit of privacy.

"Is he going to cause any problems?" Alice asked, tilting her head up to meet Larkin's eyes. "I wouldn't want Lady Belrose to miss out on her delivery. She was so looking forward to getting those books from you."

"No problems," Larkin said, letting go of Alice's arm. She was one of Lady Belrose's group. They pooled together to purchase from him. "He ran into me the other night and had the misfortune to see me when I was relatively certain the flu was about to kill me. Apparently he thought it was."

Alice snorted, a distinctly unladylike sound. Larkin politely ignored it, watching as she turned her focus onto the roses in front of them. "Did you know Lord Paquet imported the blue roses? I forget from where, but he was very proud of them."

"They are beautiful," Larkin said, barely glancing at the roses. His mind was already spinning, trying to come up with something he could tell Garnett that would satisfy him without ruining Larkin in the process. Somehow he doubted Garnett—straight-laced and proper—would approve of what Larkin was in the middle of.

The afternoon passed quickly; the party broke up mid-afternoon, and Larkin spent the rest of his day visiting his various customers. He had the start of a good order list by the time night fell but was still no closer to figuring out what to tell Garnett.

Walking down the hallway towards his rooms, Larkin considered his options for the hundredth time. He'd probably have to play some of his cards as he didn't think Garnett would let him get away with anything less than that. Taking the last corner, Larkin stopped, startled to find Garnett loitering outside his rooms.

Recovering himself quickly, Larkin closed the remaining distance, already reaching for his wards. "You're early, your highness."

"It's evening," Garnett said. He didn't step away as Larkin approached the door, putting them close enough that Larkin could smell his cologne again. Opening the door, Larkin stepped inside, holding the door open for Garnett. He let the wards slide back into place once he'd shut the door.

"Technically, though, no one I know would consider this an appropriate time for a late night assignation," Larkin said, amused when Garnett glowered at the implication he was visiting Larkin for something so inappropriate. "Have a seat. Would you like a drink?"

"Sure," Garnett said. He studied the sofa for a moment before taking a seat at the far end. Larkin had a smart comment on his lips about nothing staining it before he remembered—fuzzily—that Garnett had seen him bleeding on the sofa only a few days previously.

Garnett liked expensive scotch. Ruben had complained of the difficulty of finding Garnett's preferred brand a few times in Larkin's hearing. He had scotch, though it likely wasn't up to Garnett's usual standards. Nothing in Larkin's limited bar would be, however, so he poured the scotch. Bringing the tumblers over to the sofa, Larkin passed one to Garnett and then claimed the seat adjacent to the sofa.

"Thank you," Garnett said, taking a sip of the scotch. He made a pleased little noise, a smile softening his face briefly. He settled back in his seat, staring expectantly at Larkin.

"I don't know what you think I can tell you, your highness," Larkin said. He swirled the scotch in his glass, focusing on that instead of Garnett. He didn't want to lie to Garnett, but he couldn't tell him the truth, either.

"You could start with why you didn't want to go to the healers the other night," Garnett said, his voice deceptively casual. "Or why you had a healing potion when those are far and above your means."

Larkin laughed, pleased to note he kept most of the bitterness he felt out of it. "What do you know of my means, highness?"

"I know your father had a gambling problem. I know when he died those debts largely fell to you. I know you don't seem to do much to deal with it and yet are suffering no consequences because of it," Garnett listed off.

"Close enough," Larkin said, taking a swallow of his scotch. "Those debts all fell to me, yes. I'm working to absolve them, and it requires… some delicate negotiations. I don't particularly care to discuss my financial straits with my peers, highness, so I suppose it does appear as though I'm not doing anything to fix the problem."

"Where did you get the healing potion?" Garnett pressed. Larkin considered the question. He could lie, say it was passed down from his father. He could try and pass off the attack the other night as simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time because he'd been dealing with one of his father's former associates.

That wouldn't keep Garnett away from him. Garnett's continued presence and interest in what he was doing would ruin everything as sure as his making inquiries about Larkin's activities would. Plus, there was no guarantee Garnett wouldn't make those inquiries.

"Ruben," Larkin said simply. Garnett was the youngest child in the royal family. Ruben was a few years older, and their sister Esmeralda was the oldest and set to inherit the crown. Ruben managed the country's army and navy and—unbeknownst to most—a network of spies and informants. Larkin didn't consider himself a spy, not really.