“I don’t like radical politics. Every man to his place, I say.”
“Well, his lordship is as far from a radical as you’ll see in a month of Sundays, but he’s hand in glove with Mr. Skelton, and he’s nosing around the gutter every day,” Standish said. “There’s a fellow who doesn’t know his place, if you ask me. Butters his lordship up one minute and shouting at him the next.”
David raised a brow. “Really? I shouldn’t think he’d dare.”
“Oh, yes,” Standish insisted, ruffled by the hint of disbelief. “ ‘You won’t let me down again,’ that’s what he said, and ‘No, I won’t take your word for it,’ just like that. To his lordship, if you can believe it, shouting like a barrow boy. If you don’t like that fellow, you’ve made a mistake coming here, Mr. Cyprian.”
“Is that so? Well.” David looked around the bedroom. “Do you want to show me round or leave me to it?”
“Whatever you like.” Standish propped himself against the bedpost and continued complaining about Lord Maltravers. David took another cursory look around, thinking furiously, and was relieved to be summoned downstairs before he had to waste time learning about a bedroom where he had no intention of serving from a valet he wouldn’t have let near Richard’s third-best riding boots.
The contract was ready, ink still wet on one copy. David read it over, taking his time; Lord Maltravers did not bother to conceal his impatience. The document specified the terms of employment, which were not generous and obliged David to give three months’ notice. Failure to do so would render him liable to an action at law.
David stared at the paper. Now that it was time to sign, he felt rather sick. He knew what hell a bad master could wreak on his servants, and Lord Maltravers was as bad as they came. The thought of signing himself into servitude with this man should have been terrifying. The only thing more terrifying was the discovery that he wasn’t afraid.
Because Richard would deal with it. Where David’s cleverness hit a brick wall, Richard’s power and wealth could smash through it and would. He felt it as an absolute, unquestioned certainty. Richard would throw money and lawyers at it, buy him out at any cost of time or trouble. No matter how things went, with his schemes or between them, if he never touched the man again and refused every offer of lovemaking, employment, or anything else, he knew in his soul that Richard would not let him down.
Perhaps he came running at Richard’s whistle, but David could whistle too.
“Well?” Lord Maltravers said impatiently.
David signed both copies. Lord Maltravers applied his seal, and David folded the paper he was given and pocketed it.
“Very well.” Lord Maltravers rubbed his hands together. “You work for me now, Cyprian. And I’ve some questions for you.”
Chapter 15
Richard felt as though he’d done nothing but pace and fret all day. He’d put in several hours at Angelo’s fencing academy on Bond Street with Julius, which had at least been a distraction. Julius was a vicious opponent; one could not afford to think about anything else in a bout with him. By the time they were both exhausted, Richard had a number of small, painful bruises testifying to his failure to concentrate.
“Is there any progress on Ash’s business?” Julius asked as they headed to Quex’s for a restoring drink.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in two days, and I’ve no idea what he’s up to. I should see him tonight.”
“By ‘he,’ you mean Cyprian?”
“Who else should I mean?”
Julius raised his hands. “My dear chap, you are preoccupied to the point of absentmindedness. I’ve been wondering if this could be all Ash’s trouble.”
“Isn’t that enough?”
Julius shot him a glance. “Yes, I suppose it is. I like that man, you know.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Cyprian.” Julius twirled his cane, looking the picture of an unconcerned exquisite. “Intelligent. Shrewd. Quite as ruthless as you but not encumbered by noblesse oblige.”
“I don’t know why you say that,” Richard said stiffly.
“My dear fellow, it is not a criticism. Every Elizabeth needs a Walsingham to effect the tasks beneath her dignity. The monarch in state and the spymaster behind the scenes.”
“I understand you mean to be offensive,” Richard said. “I’m not sure why.”
“For once, I don’t. I simply observe that you and Cyprian are—how may I put this?—a unity. A chimera? A being in two parts anyway.”