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A Seditious Affair(29)

By:K. J. Charles


“On Harry? Is he all right?”

“He wasn’t badly hurt, but he’s taken ill. He’s feverish, but not feared for. I will let you know if he worsens.”

Silas nodded. “And this valet. What’s to become of him? Will he face trial?”

“I assume so.”

“I’ll want to see that. See justice for George.”

“Yes.” Dominic had serious doubts as to the likelihood of such a thing. Heaven alone knew what the valet might say on the witness stand; Dominic suspected the Vanes had too much at stake to permit a trial. Suspected but did not know, because all his information came from Julius, who had been ranging nervously around Quex’s since he could not be seated by Harry’s bedside.

Richard and Dominic had not spoken since he’d turned up with a black eye. The disgust on Richard’s face when Dominic had defended Silas for that…

It couldn’t be helped. Richard’s moral compass was his own. Dominic’s was spinning wildly, but he knew his instincts regarding Silas to be right. He was a seditionist, but Dominic did not believe him a villain.

Silas was looking at him. Dominic sighed. “I’ll let you know what I can. It only happened last night, and I was at work today.”

“Aye. I see.” Silas sipped the wine once more. “This is damn good, I can tell that much. What are we— What am I drinking?”

“Imperial Tokay.”

“Right,” Silas said with care. “I’ve heard of that.”

“And now you’ve tasted it. I, uh…since it’s the last time we’ll meet.”

“Might change my mind about that, for this wine,” Silas muttered.

“Look, it’s as I said. What we had, here, was important to me. I have enjoyed your company. Your opinions, wrong as they all are. Your understanding. That has been…” Dominic couldn’t find a word to say how much it had meant.

“Aye. It has.” Silas stared doggedly into the honey depths of the wine. “Listen, you’ll find someone else, right? You won’t just listen to your bloody Richard and not do as you need?”

“It’s not Richard—”

“Bollocks it’s not. Doesn’t matter. What’s important…There’s nothing wrong with you, understand? Remember that. And be careful about it. No damn fool risks.”

Dominic’s throat was tight. “Yes. I will.”

“Good.” Silas attempted a smile. “He who desires but acts not, breeds pestilence.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Something I’ve been reading, sort of philosopher-poet-artist fellow. You call me a radical? This stuff’ll make your hair curl. No God, no king, no law.” Silas grinned at Dominic’s noise of exasperation. “He uses this new printing technique, relief etching, and paints the plates. Beautiful work. I’ll lend—”

“No,” Dominic said as Silas broke off.

“No. I won’t, will I? Ah, hell. Tory?”

“Yes?”

Silas’s mongrel eyes were on Dominic’s, intent. He felt his fingers curling tighter around the stem of the glass. He swallowed. Silas’s lips drew back at that movement into a smile that had nothing to do with amusement and raised the hairs on Dominic’s skin. “Tory,” Silas repeated, soft and low. “Get on your knees.”

It was madness, and pure sobbing relief. He knelt.

“Eyes down.” Silas walked around Dominic, slowly. “Well, now.” He ran his fingers through Dominic’s hair, over his scalp, down his bowed neck. The touch was so tender for a moment; then Dominic felt rough fingers shove beneath the folds of his cravat, a deliberate intrusion, and shuddered.

“Eyes down,” Silas repeated. “Hands behind your back. And…now, you just wait a moment.”

Dominic stared at the rug, a faded Indian pattern. He heard Silas’s footsteps move away, a drawer creak, a sound of rummaging.

He was looking through the toys of the house, the things he had never wanted to use. Floggers. Whips.

They were both still fully dressed.

“Right, now.” Silas was behind him. He knelt, making the boards creak, and Dominic felt something cold close around one wrist, then the other. He heard the jingle of chain.

“Tell you what.” Silas sounded almost conversational. “We’ll do this same rules as ever. You want me to stop, you just put out your hands.”

Dominic tugged, hard. The cuffs kept his wrists just a few inches apart.

“You got that?” Silas was in front of him now, a finger under his chin, tilting Dominic’s head up so their eyes met once more. “This time, the last time…you don’t get to say no.”