A Gentleman’s Position(27)

Richard slammed his hand on the table. “You will tell me what the devil is going on. Where he is, why he left—”

“Well, that one’s easy.” Mason was infuriatingly calm. “You turned him off, remember?”

“What?”

“You dismissed him, your lordship. Last night. Slipped your mind?”

“I did not.”

“Sounded like it to me. And I’ve an inkling he’d remember.”

“No, damn it. I told him— He must have misunderstood.” Richard had to bite back an urge to beg the radical lout for more information. Cyprian surely could not have thought Richard had meant permanent dismissal. He could not have left without farewell, without giving Richard a chance to speak. “It is a misunderstanding. Where has he gone?”

“Still don’t know, your lordship.”

“Then you will be well advised to find out,” Richard said savagely. “Go wherever you last saw him, and ask, damn it.”

Mason blew out a noisy breath. “There’s something you’re missing. He doesn’t want to be found. He doesn’t want you finding him. So, no, I’m not going to help you do it.”

Richard stared at him. “But—why would he—”

“Couldn’t say. Maybe he’s put up with enough from your lordship.” Mason shrugged with deliberate insolence. “Don’t blame him.”

It was pure relief to lose his temper. Richard did not do it often, because a man in his position who indulged a bad temper became a tyrant. He lost it now, spectacularly, bellowing his anger and frustration in Mason’s face with a shameful awareness at the back of his mind that he was doing it because Mason could take it. The radical had withstood hours of interrogation at Bow Street on a charge of high treason; he’d been flogged and gaoled for seditious libel and had not stopped for any threat short of hanging. He stood unmoved as the storm of Richard’s futile fury raged around him.

“You will damned well tell me what I want to know, or I will have you thrown out of this house and delivered to the gaol you should be haunting, you gutter-blood democrat!” Richard was shouting when the door opened without a knock. “And what the hell do you—” He stopped abruptly, seeing that the uninvited entrant was Dominic.

“Morning, Dom,” Mason said. “Join the party.”

“Good day, Silas, Richard. What the devil is going on?”

“Cyprian.” Richard’s throat felt sore. “He’s left me.”

“Cyprian? Why is that Silas’s responsibility?”

Richard set his teeth. “If you could request your damned insolent werewolf to inform me where I may find my valet—”

“He ain’t your valet, your lordship,” Mason said. “You gave him his marching orders.”

“I did not!”

“You dismissed him?” Dominic asked. “Why on earth—”

“I did not. It was a misunderstanding. I need to explain. I need to speak to him.”

“I should damned well think you do,” Dominic said. “Are you insane? Have you considered how much he knows? You put your entire faith, all our safety, in his hands, and now you have had some sort of quarrel, and you don’t even know where he is? What if he’s at Bow Street laying a charge against us?”

Richard stared at Dominic, appalled. “He would not. I am quite sure he would not.”

“What on earth did he do?” Dominic demanded. “What in heaven’s name was worth not just squabbling with a servant but endangering every man of us?”

Richard sat at the desk and put his face in his hands. “Oh God. Oh, hell.”

He could feel Mason and Dominic exchanging looks above him. Mason said, “Dom, Foxy’s a decent cove. He might be pissed off, but I’ll swear he won’t inform. And nor would I, so I’ll leave you two to your chat. If I may beg his lordship’s permission to leave the room, I mean.”

“Go away, you republican swine. Richard, my dear…” Dominic paused as the door closed behind Mason. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“No,” Richard said with entire truth.

“Mmm. Is there something you ought to tell me, want to or not? Because…Julius mentioned some affaire of yours….Sit up.” His voice cracked like a whip. “Sit up, and look at me at once. What have you done?”

“Dear God, Dominic.” Richard pushed himself to his feet, needing to move. “If you must have it, I have become overfond of my own damned valet. Is that enough for you? Must I say more?”

“Yes, you damned well must, once I have said some things to you first.” Dominic’s dark eyes were snapping with rage. “You dared to read me a lecture on the inequity of my relations with Silas—”