A Seditious Affair(69)
Silas’s eyelids were drooping when Dom said, “We have to discuss it at some point.”
“Urgh.” He blinked and sat up. “What?”
“You. Where you’ll go. What you’ll do.”
“We have to do that now?”
“I was rather hoping that satisfaction would make you pliable. I’m very happy to keep going until it does.”
“Sod off, I’m an old man. Pliable to what?”
“Richard’s offer remains open, and it is from the best of motives, but I understand your hesitation. However, if you won’t accept that, you require an income. And for my own selfish reasons, I should prefer your occupation to keep you fed, out of prison, and with sufficient free time for me. Quite seriously, would you open another bookshop if you had a loan to do it?”
“I can’t take a loan from you.”
Dominic’s breath hissed. “Let me approach this another way. What can I do? What can I ask, what can I offer, what is it that you’re hoping I say? Tell me, Silas, because I don’t know. Don’t refuse me because I’m rich. Take my help because I am your friend.”
“Your lover,” Silas pointed out. “Which is different.”
“My love,” Dominic said. “Which is different still. I love you. I am entirely convinced that you love me despite your refusal to admit a damned thing. You are the one person with whom I find talking and fucking and companionship to be an equal and mutual joy. I never thought it possible to understand and be understood as we do. And it is hard enough to know that my friends regard this, or me, with amusement or contempt; it is hard enough for us all to live in the shadow of the gallows; and I am damned if I will let you roll additional boulders in our path with your accursed independence that I have no desire at all to infringe. I don’t want to put you under obligation. Why the devil would I? I want you to accept my help because you’re my lover, and lovers do that!”
Silas opened his mouth, closed it again.
“You’d freeze in the streets before coming to my door,” Dominic said, more moderately. “And I’d like to believe that was because you don’t want to endanger me, but it’s not, is it? You won’t take from me because you can’t see past our different standings. And a year ago I respected that, but, Silas, you have everything of me that matters, and you cannot leave me with nothing but coin while I watch you struggle and starve.”
“Easy to say,” Silas began, managing to control his tongue. “But you ought to know—you got to understand— How the hell can I stand equal to you—”
“Because you are my equal.”
The fire crackled. Downstairs, conversation rose and fell. Silas stared at him.
“I’m not sure why that’s in question,” Dominic went on. “It’s almost as though you don’t believe a word of all the claptrap you spout. What the devil makes you think I hold you as my inferior?”
“You’re a gentleman,” Silas managed.
“A particularly oblivious one? One who cannot see what’s in front of his nose? Do you not think it is conceivable that, after a year and a half of relentless argument, you have persuaded me of your case to some degree? I had no idea you were so unsure of your own abilities.”
Silas took a deep breath, staring ahead. “That’s it. That’s what it is.”
“What is?”
“It’s not that you’re a gentleman. It’s you. It’s how you listen to me, and how you think about what I say, and how you look when you read Blake, like you’re seeing angels yourself, and imperial Tokay because you wanted me to taste it when you still had a bloody great black eye I gave you. That’s what I can’t see past, or over. I can’t see a sodding thing but you.”
Dominic grabbed Silas’s shoulder, pushing him down onto his back. “Damn you. Say it, Silas. Say it.”
“Fuckster,” Silas said. “I love you, and you know it.”
“Good. Good.” Dom sounded a little ragged.
Silas looked up at him, into those unwavering eyes, and let out a long sigh that felt like it carried some hard things with it. “And…Aye. Well, you’re right. It makes sense.”
“What does?”
The words came surprisingly easily, in the end. “If you lend me, to get started again. Makes sense.”
“Of course.” Dominic kissed him, relaxing over his body. “Thank you.”
“I’ll still sell politics.”
“I know.”
But not write. Or at least, not print himself, not till he was earning. He couldn’t use Dominic’s money to fund sedition.