“I am obligated, and you damn well know it,” Brenleigh objected, snapping his eyes back open. “You were kind enough to remind me how much I owe Sam.”
John ground his teeth. He knew he should play nice with a man willing to help them, but still he said, “I do not regret what I said. You hurt him.”
“I know.” Brenleigh stared him down. “But that is my business with Sam, and I will not discuss it with you. And we should be more concerned with the problem at hand.” He looked out the window just as the carriage began to slow. “Sam and Rich are waiting. Come on.”
John tried to pretend calm for the sake of the servants once the carriage stopped, but the effort failed him. He bounded up the steps, forcing Brenleigh to trot after him. All he could think of was Sam, alone and frightened for days. Why didn’t Sam tell him? Why did he try to bear it alone?
Once inside, John made directly for the study and pushed open the door. Richard spun around near the window, while Sam made a startled cry as he woke from his slumped place in a chair. He stumbled to his feet, and the moment he met John’s gaze, his expression crumbled.
John rushed him, their audience forgotten as he flung his arms around Sam in a crushing embrace. Sam held him just as tight, wrapping his arms around John’s neck as if to lift himself into his arms. He was shaking.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Sam sobbed against John’s chest, barely intelligible. “Such a fool…”
John kissed Sam’s hair and shushed him. He had been a wreck for days, but not until that moment did he understand how lost he had felt. Having Sam in his arms, knowing that he was his again, was like the sun thawing his bones.
The purposeful sound of a doorknob rattling reminded John they were not alone. He turned his head while hiding Sam’s tear-streaked face. Brenleigh and Richard stood near the door, both making an effort to look elsewhere.
“We, eh…” Brenleigh began. “We will see to some breakfast for, eh, twenty minutes? My servants know not to enter this room without permission.”
John nodded his thanks for the privacy. The moment the door closed behind them, Sam lifted his red face.
“I love you!”
John almost staggered back, not just from the words but from the determined, almost panicked way in which Sam said them.
“I’m so sorry,” he went on. “You said you loved me, and I w-walked away. I walked away from you! I love you so much, John. Forgive me. Please.”
“Love, stop. Stop,” John soothed, cupping Sam’s face. “It’s all right.”
“I lied to you.”
John had been angry and hurt, but knowing about Evers’s treachery had erased all of that. “To protect me. You weren’t trying to hurt me. And I didn’t believe you anyway. You are a terrible liar.”
Sam’s lips twitched up in a watery smile. “I am?”
“Yes.” John smiled. He wanted to make Sam smile and assure him that everything was fine, but he could not. There was something plaguing him, that had been plaguing him since that night in the garden, and they had to settle it first.
“You’re not a good liar,” John continued, “because I think you believed some of those things you said to me.”
Sam’s expression fell. He shook his head. “No.”
“Love”—John brushed his thumbs across Sam’s jaw—”you tried to push me away to protect me. A misguided course, but you could have done that by just telling me you didn’t want me anymore, that you were tired of me. No, listen.” He pressed his fingers over Sam’s lips when Sam tried to object, making Sam’s eyes widen. “But you didn’t say that. You said I would leave you eventually. You said
I
would find someone better. Tell me you don’t really believe that.”
“I don’t,” Sam muttered, dropping his gaze.
“Look at me,” John ordered. “Tell me the truth. Please. Why did you say that to me? Why would you think that?”
Sam lifted his gaze, a fresh pool of tears making his eyes glisten. “Because I’m nothing special.”
“Sam…” John groaned.
“I’m plain. I’m short a-and chubby, and I know there are so many other men you don’t know, and…” He hung his head, trying to catch his breath. “You are so perfect, John, and I’m nothing.”
“Stop that,” John demanded, a sob cracking his voice. He clutched Sam’s shoulders and wanted to shake him. How could he be so blind? “Damn it, Sam. What on earth do you see when you look in the mirror? It can’t be what I see.” He slid his hands up to Sam’s neck, combing his fingers through Sam’s hair. He peppered kisses across Sam’s forehead and temples until Sam made that helpless whimpering sound that John loved so much.
“You are so damn beautiful,” John whispered, “and not knowing it only makes you more beautiful. I’ll never see another emerald around a lady’s neck without thinking of your eyes, love. And I dream about the strength you have wrapped up in all that smooth, flawless skin. Lord, don’t make me say anything more. I’m embarrassing myself, and I’m going to make you insufferably vain.”
Sam hiccuped a laugh, which he then tried to hide as he wiped his face with his sleeves. He caught his breath, calming, then raised his gaze again. “You love me?”
“Yes, you fool.”
“You think I’m handsome?” Sam sounded baffled.
“I said beautiful, but handsome too, yes.” John made a put-upon sigh. “You see, I have done it already. Vain, vain, vain.”
Fresh tears spilled from Sam’s eyes, but his wide joyous smile turned them beautiful. His eyes glistened, and his grin forced his cheeks into those blasted dimples.
John crushed their lips together. Sam moaned and opened for him but was no passive recipient. He clung to John’s neck and pulled him down, nipping at his lip and pulling a needy sound from John’s throat. There was a sofa only a few away, and John was so tempted to straddle Sam on it and pull his clothes off. But there was no time for that, and Brenleigh’s study would probably not be the best place to strip Sam bare and make him cry out until the walls shook.
Sam must have had similar thoughts, for he slowed and broke their kiss with a final wet nip. He kept their foreheads touching.
“I feel as if we are celebrating a victory that has not yet happened,” Sam admitted. “What are we going to do about Evers? He said he had a man following you, and they would go to the papers and start rumors—”
“I don’t know. Yet. I’ve only just learned about all this, and I haven’t had a moment to think about anything. I can tell you, my suggestion is to drag him out to a field and issue my own threats.” John looked up, saw the horrified look on Sam’s face, and immediately recanted. “No, no. I am just angry, and I’m sure we can come up with something more clever than that.”
“Don’t get me wrong. It isn’t that I haven’t wanted to pummel him bloody for days.” Sam laughed bitterly. “But I don’t think a beating will accomplish anything. He would heal, be enraged, and make good on his threats anyway. And I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“We’re going to win this, love. I won’t let anyone keep you away from me.”
Sam hummed and smiled. “I like that. You calling me that.”
“Love?” John teased, pretending confusion. “Well, I like saying it.”
A double rap on the door snatched their attention, and they pushed apart.
“I think our twenty minutes are up.” Sam rolled his shoulders as if preparing to wade into something painful. Though the effect was ruined by his kiss-swollen lips and mussed hair.
The door opened a moment later, and Richard’s black eyes appeared cautiously around the door.
“Get in here,” John grunted irritably.
Richard and Brenleigh entered and closed the door, with Brenleigh once more turning a key in the lock. Brenleigh wore a new suit of clothes, but both men still looked haggard. It served to remind John of their help.
“Please say you have thought of something, because I am at a loss,” Sam confessed.
“My suggestion of hanging him by his feet until his eyes burst is not popular, apparently,” Richard quipped, eyeing Brenleigh, “but we have something else.”
Brenleigh looked uncertain, but nodded. “Yes. I think our only course is to threaten him.”
“No, Hen,” Sam groaned.
John frowned.
Hen?
“I don’t think hurting him will work,” Sam continued. “Perhaps if he didn’t have this damn spy of his—”
“No, we don’t mean we’re going to threaten to hurt him,” Richard explained as he and Brenleigh came to stand in front of the hearth. “Well, that is the sum of it, but
we
won’t be the threat.”
“What? Make sense, man.” John grumbled. He looked to Brenleigh, and John’s prickling skin turned a full angry flush when he saw Brenleigh’s gaze riveted on Sam, his brow wrinkled in a wistful expression. John cleared his throat, and Brenleigh snapped his attention away.
“All right, hear me out.” Brenleigh raised his hands. “I already said Evers is under the impression that you have no help, Sam. That you are alone and he has only you to worry about, but if he thought he had many threats to worry about, he might think differently. I think he knows you wouldn’t hurt him.” At that, Brenleigh made an apologetic face, as if the fact could be taken as a slight.
John watched Brenleigh. “Then what do you suggest?”
“I suggest we make him aware of all the men who would find his actions very inexcusable,” Richard drawled, smiling.
“What do you mean?” Sam interjected. “You can’t mean telling him about others. We couldn’t risk anyone like that.”
“I agree,” John added. “Not unless they knew about it and gave consent.”
“No, no.” Brenleigh shook his head. “We won’t tell Evers who anyone is, but we will make it plain to him that there are others and they will know what he’s doing. If he has even a dose of good sense, he’ll step away.”
“What if he doesn’t believe me?” Sam pointed out. “It stands to reason I would be desperate enough to say anything, and he would know that.”
“You’re right. He probably would not believe you, but…” Brenleigh looked at Richard, and John thought he saw a glint of thanks in Brenleigh’s blue eyes. “But he would believe us. Me and Richard.”
John gaped, then turned to Sam and saw him in a similar reaction, staring at Brenleigh. John had expected their help and advice, but he had not considered the idea that either Brenleigh or Richard would risk themselves.
“You would do that for me?” Sam looked baffled, as if he truly could not believe them.
“It is the least I can do.” Brenleigh took a step forward, his hand raised as if to touch Sam’s arm, but Sam flinched. It was subtle, hardly more than the shift of his head, but John saw it. And Brenleigh must have seen it too. He lowered his hand.
“We don’t have a lot of time.” Brenleigh sighed. “We should make certain of the details and be on our way to Sam’s house before Evers shows himself.”
A silent truce seemed to fall upon everyone as they began discussing the particulars of their scheme. They sat, and John caressed the back of Sam’s hand despite the company. Or, if he was honest with himself,
because
of the company. Brenleigh continued to watch Sam with that strange, distant look that John could not decipher and greatly disliked, while Sam spoke his piece to the walls each time, refusing to meet Brenleigh’s eyes at all.
* * * *
It was half past two when Sam was startled by a knock on his study door, and his butler informed him that Evers had arrived. Sam told him to bring Evers to the study, but that there would be no interruptions after and that the footmen in the front hall were to be sent away. He then made preparations for the room.
He paced through the sharp rays of sunlight cutting through the western windows and prayed his heart did not explode. He was nervous and scared. He would never admit it, for a man did not admit such things, but he despised confrontation. All of it. His blood raced, and sweat dampened his brow. He was about to make his revenge on Elliot Evers, but he felt no joy in it. He just wanted it over.
Then he remembered John, and even Brenleigh and Richard. He was not alone; he had champions, and it calmed his heart. Then the door opened, and Evers walked into the room. He looked even worse than he had Monday night, if such was possible. His greatcoat looked as if he had not been out of it in days.
“S-Shaw.” Evers scanned the room with bloodshot eyes. “Do you have the special license? You’ve made arrangements?”
Sam drew a deep breath. “I’ve made arrangements.”
“Good, good.” Evers raked his fingers through his limp hair as he moved farther into the room. He looked at an armchair as if he longed to sit but didn’t. “It’s not yet three. It can be today, or tomorrow if you haven’t already told Miss Shaw. I just need to visit my rooms, change my clothes…” Evers looked down at himself. It was like he had just noticed his grubby state. In fact, Sam wondered if Evers was even entirely lucid.
“Are you drunk?” Sam belted, unthinking.
“If I am?” Evers snorted. “Don’t worry. Already told you your sister won’t have to tolerate my presence for long. Drink myself to death maybe. Widow her and let her marry a good man.”
Jesus Christ.
Sam took a step back, a wave of pity hitting him. Whatever pressure was bearing on the man must be brutal, but Sam refused to let his sympathy take hold, not when John and Flor meant the world to him.
“You expect me to pity you?” Sam spat. “You would not be under your family’s thumb if you had a profession, made your own way, but you live on allowance. And you’ll be cut off if your family fortune isn’t propped up. You are doing this for your own greed.”
Evers blinked and pressed his lips like a man ready to be sick. “So? Doesn’t change anything. Today or tomorrow?”
Sam took another step back. “Never.”
“What?”
“
Never.
You will never marry my sister, or have her dowry, or have anything from me.” Sam forced his chin up, his pulse pounding in his ears.
Evers wailed, clenching his fists in his hair. “You stupid bastard! I told you and told you, Darnish will be ruined. Do you think this is a bluff?”
“You won’t do anything,” Sam shot back. “If you hurt John, I’ll make you sorry—Argh!”
Evers lunged for him, catching him off guard. Sam moved to block his face from a punch, but it didn’t come. Instead, Evers clawed at Sam’s lapels as if to shake him, but the impact sent them both falling against the desk, scattering papers and knocking over ink wells. He could not right himself or twist out of Evers’s grasp. Fear coursed through him as he stared into the man’s wild eyes, and then there was a yell, the sound of running feet, and Evers seemed to fly away from him.