There was a long silence.
“You gave me the truth too, once,” Richard said at last. “And I could not see then how there could be caring in what you asked of me, and I don’t see now. You frighten me, Dominic. I spent a decade wondering if any unexpected note would be the news that you had been found dead in some filthy gutter, if whoever you’d found to abuse you had gone too far. So, yes, I did ask Cyprian to find me a solution to the problem you present, and I am repaid for my interference now, because it seems he succeeded all too well.”
“Perhaps he should establish a marriage mart of some kind. He could apply his powers to finding someone for you.”
Richard made a jerky movement, then stopped himself. “I think not.” The tone was light, but the pause had been too long. If Julius was right about his love affair, Richard evidently did not intend to speak of it.
Dominic tried not to be hurt by that. “I wish you would. I wish you could let yourself love someone worthy of you.”
“I wish you the same.” Richard grimaced. “Ah, Dom. I cannot like this business of yours, I cannot understand it, and I cannot see it ending well.” He moved forward, dropping a hand to Dominic’s shoulder, a tentative motion that stung because they should not be wary of each other. “I have only ever wanted your happiness.”
“For that, you have to let me be the arbiter of what makes me happy.”
“Yes, but you must understand that I know best.”
Dominic looked up with outrage, saw his friend’s rueful, apologetic smile, and couldn’t help but laugh.
Richard smiled back, relieved. “Ah, curse it. I overstepped, I know I did, and I am sorry. I don’t agree with your course, but if you are sure this is what you want…”
Dominic put his own hand over the large, strong fingers and felt them tighten, that old familiar sign of friendship. The relief was a physical, palpable thing. “Truly, Rich.”
“And—I must ask this—if he is arrested? If, indeed, you learn something that makes it imperative to have him arrested?”
“I am attempting not to learn that,” Dominic said. “Deliberate ignorance, you might say. He does not tell me what he does or where he goes, and I do not ask.”
“A state of affairs that might fool a blind man in the dark. And you keep your knowledge from him, of the proceedings against radicals?”
“As far as I can, except—”
“Harry,” Richard said with him. “Of course.”
“I am treading the edge of a precipice here,” Dominic said bluntly. “Liverpool’s administration has been savage on the reformists and whipped up a deal of discontent. The Whigs claim the country is ripe for revolution. There is talk of an uprising sweeping the North.”
“Then, surely—”
“Talk, it is always talk. If I thought there was a figurehead, a leader of revolution, I should be afraid. There is none, no English Danton or Robespierre. In the end, this is a conservative land. I do not see a tipping point that will force the radicals to act. And I am very afraid that the government needs one.”
“How do you mean?”
“The Six Acts infringe British liberties. Sidmouth needs to prove that they were justified, that to make any concession to reform is to hand the nation to Jacobins. He needs an outrage. That was to be Lord Maltravers and Mr. Skelton’s coup: the radical Harry Vane made rich by the murders of his noble relatives. That little scheme did not come off, but it has not been forgotten.”
“Are you telling me that business was not sincerely meant?” Richard demanded. “It was an error, yes, but from overenthusiasm—”
“Perhaps,” Dominic said. “Mr. Skelton suspects Silas of sedition, and he is quite right to do so. And yet his patron is Lord Maltravers, who dislikes our set, dislikes Harry, and would be ecstatic to see his brother’s friends brought low by association. Let us say that if Silas were arrested and the consequence of his arrest were Harry’s disgrace, Lord Maltravers would be very well pleased with Mr. Skelton. And so would Lord Sidmouth, because the government needs a radical scandal, and I think at this point even the loosest threads may be woven into a conspiracy.”
“You have to stop Mason. You must see that. You have to appeal to him to keep out of trouble.”
“I wish I could promise that. I shall try, but I can only hope he is not arrested.”
“Yes,” Richard said. “There, I think, we are as one.”
—
Dominic had not seen Mr. Skelton at work for some time. The encounter at Millay’s had infuriated Skelton and embarrassed Dominic, and in truth they’d avoided each other since. But a month had slipped by without either of them raising the subject, and Dominic felt it was past time to deal with the lingering awkwardness.