A Rational Arrangement, page 48
“…I didn’t think this many greatcats worked for Lord Nikola. Or Anverlee.”
“Don’t. Those two are Gunther’s kids, the rest are volunteers. Making sure no one bothers Lord Nik.”
“Ah.” Volunteers?
The cottage was small, old, and dilapidated, with a patched roof and little windows of bubbling, distorted yellow-brown glass. It hurt to picture Nikola in this squalid half-ruin. Anthser pawed open the door and announced him, standing back so Justin could pass. The interior smelled of bleach with a faint undertone of mildew, dark enough after the light of day that it gave the impression of dinginess.
Nikola stepped through an interior entranceway and Justin forgot all about the room. “Good morning, Comfrey.” The tall lord wore his habitual crooked smile. His neckcloth was tied askew, but that could not detract from his splendor in a blue morning coat and matched trousers, long blond waves of hair left loose to frame sharply-defined features. Nikola did not look pallid or sickly: he looked like himself. Perfect.
Justin’s face lit with pleasure and relief as he crossed the room to meet his friend in the middle, clasping his gloved hand. “Striker.” It took all his restraint not to fall into Nikola’s arms.
“Thank you for joining me.” Nikola motioned to Anthser in dismissal. The greatcat ducked into a bow before stepping back outside and closing the door, leaving the two men in private. “I’m sorry about the squalor here. I ought to have received you in one of the manor parlors, I know.”
Justin dismissed their irrelevant surroundings with a wave of one hand. “It doesn’t matter.” Then he took another look about, considering. “Are you all alone out here, without even servants?”
“Yes. The greatcats have been a tremendous help, of course, but they’re all outside at the moment.” Another crooked smile. “Mostly they help by intimidating the well-intentioned from trying to press their company upon me. It turns out all I need do to get some privacy in Gracehaven is be held prisoner and tortured. Who would have – Justin?” Nikola was caught by surprise as the viscount took a pace closer, steered them out of sight of the room’s narrow windows, and wrapped him in his arms.
Justin nuzzled golden hair aside to press his cheek against Nikola’s neck, breathing in his scent, feeling tension flow out as he exhaled. “I wouldn’t recommend the strategy, just the same,” Justin murmured dryly.
Nikola put his arms around Justin’s shoulders in return. “No. Not worth the cost,” he agreed, then stumbled a bit as Justin moved them farther back to push Nikola against the far wall. Justin pressed the length of his body against Nikola’s, brushing lips over the taller man’s pale neck, running hands down his sides. A familiar ache of desire rose in him, but Justin craved connection more than release, to hear Nikola gasp with pleasure under his touch, to explore every inch anew and verify for himself his lover’s well-being. He licked the line of Nikola’s chin, skin fresh-shaven and smooth against his tongue. “Justin…” Nikola said, quietly. The viscount snuggled closer still, trapping Nikola against the wall as he nipped at Nikola’s throat, exposed above the high collar. Nikola swallowed, breathing unevenly. “Don’t.”
Justin slid his hips against Nikola’s, feeling the other man’s arousal. “If you’re worried about the greatcats, I’ll bathe afterwards. I don’t have anywhere to be.” He caressed Nikola’s shoulders, stroking down his arms to capture the wrists.
At that, Nikola twisted violently, raising his arms to break the grip. “No!” Justin stepped back at once, releasing the other man, realizing too late the sincerity of that initial objection. Nikola was white, breathing too quickly, head turned to one side and eyes screwed up as if in pain.
Savior, I’m an idiot. Justin took another step away, crossing his arms to keep himself from doing anything else stupid. Apologizing felt wrong: to do so would draw attention to something that would be better to pretend hadn’t happened. Draw attention to the unusual nature of Nikola’s response. He poured a glass of winterberry juice from the carafe on the parlor table and moved to the sofa.
“It’s not that I’m not grateful, Justin,” Nikola said, voice catching. “I am. But I – I can’t—”
Justin clenched his hand around the glass. Do you think I expect you to screw me out of obligation? That I would want you to? He looked to his friend with the easiest smile he could conjure. “Don’t be absurd, Striker.” One corner of his mouth quirked higher with sincere mirth. “After all, it’s not as if you never saved my life before.”
Nikola managed a smile in return. “Funny you should mention it.” He moved away from the wall at last and took a ledger from the table beside the carafe and handed it to Justin before taking a seat in one of the armchairs. Justin pretended not to notice the trembling in Nikola’s hand and sat on the sofa, giving a puzzled glance to the ledger book. It had Fireholt’s symbol embossed on the cover. “Your reward,” Nikola said, as if in explanation.
With an unpleasant suspicion in his mind, Justin opened the ledger: inside was a signed and notarized assignment of an account at Michaelson’s, to change ownership from Nikola Striker, Lord of Fireholt, to Lord Justin Comfrey, Viscount of Comfrey. It awaited only Justin’s signature acknowledging the transfer.
Of the same account Justin had set up for Nikola not two weeks ago.
“It’s a little short, I’m afraid, but since you’d already set the price of a life-saving I thought it only fair I do my best to meet it,” Nikola was saying.
Justin felt as though he’d been punched in the stomach. He could hardly breathe. You can’t, you agreed to accept this, you can’t just give it back— He looked up from the account papers to Nikola’s handsome, smiling countenance. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Oh, but I do. I do.” He scooted forward in his seat, hesitated, leaned over to put his hand on Justin’s. “Justin: thank you. I can’t say, can’t describe, how deeply grateful—”
“Nikola, don’t, it’s—”
“Please, Justin. Let me finish.” Nikola stared at their hands, his white-gloved fingers curling under Justin’s palm, thumb caressing the back. “You did more than save my life. Were it not for your intervention, had you and Miss Vasilver been unable to locate me, I would be lucky to be dead now. What Brogan planned next does not bear contemplation.” Justin’s fingers tightened over Nikola’s; he had to force himself to relax his grip. I wish I’d killed that man. No: I wish I’d made him suffer. “I owe you more than I can ever repay – let me finish, Justin – but I must at least try. I am a wreck of a man right now, and there are a great many things I cannot induce myself to do. But this much I can. And will.” He raised beautiful deep blue eyes to meet Justin’s, his smile turned shy. “I cannot keep taking everything from you and give nothing in return.”
You are everything to me. Justin could not say such a thing. “Oh dear. Does this mean you have tired of taking all the abuse I heap upon you?”
Nikola stifled a smile, looking away. “You know what I mean.”
“I should be sorry indeed if you were weary of taking my time. Or wait, am I taking yours? Perhaps you could repay me in that instead. Are we even there? I confess I have not kept track.”
His lover rose to pace the room. The ceilings were too low: his posture was slightly stooped because of it. “You said I’d won that wager, over the bowrace. The favor.”
Justin blinked at the change of subject. “Yes…?”
“Then I’m calling it in now. Be serious. Will you do that?”
Justin stared at him for a moment, then leaned back, arms to either side along the sofa back. “Of course.”
“Are you going to accept it or must we fight about this?” Nikola nodded to the ledger.
Are those my only choices? Justin swallowed the quip. “What of Miss Vasilver? Fel Fireholt? My part in the rescue was minor.”
“You killed two men for me.”
I would have killed every man on that boat if need be. “I would not have been in a position to do anything had Miss Vasilver not led Fel Fireholt to you.”
“Anthser was doing his job. He doesn’t want a reward, or even a bonus.”
“Nor do I.”
“Anthser also never set the price for a life.”
Justin grimaced. That was different! You know perfectly well why I wanted to reward you. Anverlee is all but bankrupt. He could not say it, could not state flatly that all his protestations had been mere cover for Nikola’s pride. Insufficient cover.
“As for Miss Vasilver.” Nikola stopped pacing to stand in profile before Justin, golden hair brushing the low ceiling, and half-smiled. “The princess’s hand in marriage is the other traditional reward, isn’t it? Heir in this case, I suppose, though Anverlee’s not much of a county, and certainly no kingdom.”
What— “You asked,” Justin said through gritted teeth, “that I be serious. Will you accord me the same courtesy?”
The half-smile vanished. “I am perfectly serious.”
Justin straightened, clenching his fingers into the sofa back to keep himself from surging to his feet. “You cannot mean to marry a woman out of gratitude, Nikola.”
“No.” The Haventure man turned to face Justin. “Not out of gratitude. I love her.”
The bottom fell away from Justin’s world. No this cannot be happening you cannot love her you belong to me – “Saints, Striker you made an anti-proposal to her! You cannot be serious!”
Nikola dropped his eyes, smiling wryly. “I didn’t know her then.”
“And you know her now? You met her less than a month ago!” Justin was fully aware of the hypocrisy of his words, when he’d had the same thoughts on an even shorter acquaintance, but he had to say something.
“Well enough to know there’s no woman in the world I’d rather marry. Look, I don’t know that she’d be fool enough to accept my proposal – I would not marry me, especially in my current condition. But I intend to offer. When I am…better.” Nikola returned to perch beside Justin on the sofa, taking his hand. “She is the most remarkable woman, Justin, and no, I do not mean only because she had the will to find me, the courage to risk herself doing so, and the wit to lead you to us when she did. She has the most extraordinary mind, the most fascinating way of viewing – everything. I know you are not much impressed by women, Justin, but Miss Vasilver is different. Special. If you knew her as well as I do, you’d understand.”
I’ve seen her half-naked; is that well enough? For a moment, Justin entertained telling his friend that – would you think so well of your would-be betrothed if you knew how easily she could be seduced? The thought was petty, unworthy of him: what right had he to tarnish Wisteria in Nikola’s eyes? But surely he deserves to know what kind of woman he’s thinking of wedding.
While he wrestled with that thought, Nikola continued, “I feel as though I can speak to her about anything, anything at all. And that’s the other matter I need to speak with you regarding. I want to tell her about us.”
Justin stared at him. “What do you mean, ‘about us’?”
“You know what I mean.” Nikola met his gaze earnestly, gripping his hand. “I would share my life with her; I do not want – I will not – deceive her. About who I am, or what I do.”
Justin’s jaw dropped. “Have you gone mad?” He jerked his hand away as if insanity might be contagious.
The Haventure man dropped his eyes. “Yes. But not in this,” he said softly.
Justin barked a mirthless laugh. “That would settle the question of your marrying her, anyway; she’d certainly refuse if you told her that. You cannot, Nikola, it is absolutely out of the question. You would ruin us both.”
“Miss Vasilver would not expose us, I’m sure.”
“‘You are sure’? And on this certainty, this acquaintance of what, three weeks? Four? You would stake our reputation, fortune, freedom – everything?”
“She’s not some naive sheltered girl, Justin.” Nikola hesitated. “She’s spent years traveling. Miss Vasilver would understand.”
“Do you even hear yourself? You say you wish to marry her in one breath and in the next say you would tell her the one thing guaranteed to make her refuse. Even if – if! – you are right that she would not intentionally expose us, a few careless words could do untold damage. If you are seeking my blessing for this insanity: no. Absolutely not.”
Nikola stood and took a few steps away. “There is nothing I can say to persuade you?”
“Nothing.” Justin had a terrible premonition that his words had made no impact on his friend’s intended course. “Nikola – I beg of you, for both our sakes, do not do this.”
“I won’t betray your secret, Justin. If that is what you choose.”
“It is.”
“But…” Nikola half-turned to look at him again. “I’ll not deceive her about my behavior, Justin. We cannot continue as we have been.”
Justin had spent six years waiting for and dreading this moment. Everything about this bizarre conversation had suggested it was near. The announcement could not be said to be a surprise. Yet the pain of it was worse than any physical blow. He could not mask entirely the shattering sense of loss; he bent, placed a hand over his screwed-shut eyes, controlled a shudder.
Nikola stepped to him, put a hand to his shoulder. “Justin, I’m—”
“Don’t.” Justin cut him off, voice harsh with grief. “Do what you must, but don’t you dare apologize for it. Don’t tell me you wish it were otherwise. It’s your choice. You made it.” He stood, shrugged off Nikola’s touch, moved blindly to the door.
“Is that it, then.” Nikola said to his back. “If we are not lovers, I am nothing to you.”
The dark-haired lord whirled upon him, snarling with rage and pain. “It’s your choice, how dare you fault me, how can you think—” Justin took two steps closer, fists clenched. Nikola turned his face to one side, pale and eyes shut, tensed for a blow. “You accuse me of lack of friendship? I saved your life!” By reflex, Justin had one fist raised to strike, a dozen conflicting thoughts running through him. He almost hated Nikola in that moment, for leaving him, for shaking with fear instead of being angry like a true man, like he was—
—and then Justin realized the reason for his own anger. I don’t want to lose him.
I already have.
With an inarticulate cry, Justin turned and stormed from the cottage.
In his private carriage, Justin stewed in anger, an anger he knew full well masked a terror as great as any of mortal peril.
But it was still better to be angry, better to blame Nikola, than to admit that fear. He thanks me in one breath and breaks with me in the next and with the third accuses me of being inconstant! Claims a disinterested friendship with Wisteria one day, pledges his love for her the next, and I am fickle? Hypocritical self-righteous bastard!
Whispers of self-recrimination broke into his fury. There was something wrong with Nikola, something the Savior couldn’t fix, and Justin didn’t even know what because he was too circumspect to ask. Circumspect. Hah. The first thing I did today was try to seduce him, but I am too circumspect to ask him to tell me his troubles? Too self-involved, perhaps, unwilling to confront an uncomfortable subject. Because what could be more important than my own comfort? Then he’d twist back around to how this was all Nikola’s fault – he’s the one who broke it off! He betrayed me! (Betrayed what? There was no oath between us, no pledge of undying love. No statement of love, even.) And then implied my interest in him has always been merely physical! (And if he thinks that, whose fault is it? What was your first instinct on finding him in private?) I saved his life! (And threw it in his face, as if that obliged him to fuck you.) It’s not about obligation! He should know that I’m his friend, curse it! He’s no right to question me on that. (And surely turning your back on him and stomping off in a tantrum proves your devotion.)
But it didn’t matter how the argument in his head went. Nikola was lost to him now, if indeed he could ever have been said to be his at all (he never was). And as if that were not enough, Nikola was going to propose to Wisteria, and she would be lost as well.
Unless…
He rapped on the front wall of the carriage to get the draycats’ attention, sliding open a panel as the carriage slowed. “Take me to the Vasilver house.”
Wisteria was in the back parlor talking with Byron when Lord Comfrey called. She asked him to be shown to it, because it was his fifth visit and she thought he deserved to escape the pretentious parlor by now. They exchanged the usual greetings when he was shown into the comfortable room, with its view of the rear gardens framed in two square windows and its worn but well-padded chairs, each with an unfashionable ottoman to rest one’s feet upon (her mother despised those ottomans, and the entire practice of putting up one’s feet for that matter).
Lord Comfrey showed no sign of noting the defiant ottomans; in fact, although he sat at her invitation, he was on his feet again in moments, pacing. Even to Wisteria’s inexpert eye, he looked agitated. After inquiring of the health of her family, he and Byron exchanged a look. Perhaps it conveyed some meaning to Byron, because her brother excused himself a minute later, leaving the parlor door ajar for decency’s sake. Wisteria wasn’t sure if she and Lord Comfrey still needed a chaperone: he had called twice since last Wednesday, and both visits had been pleasant but entirely circumspect. To Wisteria’s disappointment, although she could not bring herself to initiate such intimacies herself, and in any case there had been no opportunity on either prior occasion.
Now there was an opportunity, but Lord Comfrey’s nervous pacing intimidated her. “My lord? Is something amiss?” she asked after Byron left.
Lord Comfrey shook his head, then pivoted to face her. Wisteria was seated a few feet away, with her feet on the floor and ankles crossed demurely beneath her long yellow skirt, too anxious to use the ottoman. His dark brown eyes studied her face, his countenance unsmiling. Wisteria tried to remember if that was normal for him – it was difficult for her to notice or recall even obvious expressions – and thought it wasn’t. He strode abruptly to the door, checked the hall, left the door half-closed again, then returned to her. “Were you aware,” he asked, “that Lord Nikola intends to propose to you?”
