Page 73 of Confounding Oaths
But the talk of the major had sent Mr. Caesar’s mind elsewhere, and so he asked: “Whathappenedtonight?”
“With us or with them?”
Both were valid questions, but Mr. Caesar had meant the latter. The former he was trying hard to put behind him. “The men who tried to kill me.”
“That’s your answer then. Some men tried to kill you.”
“It sounded like they were trying tosacrificeme. I was under the impression that people did notgetsacrificed in the nineteenth century. It seems barbaric.”
That earned another laugh, albeit one of harsher character. “I spend my life nearly dying for a cause I don’t give a shit about. Your own father was abducted, branded, and sold to make some bastard rich. You don’t think our fearless leaders would spill a bit of blood to get the gods on their side?”
“There are laws,” Mr. Caesar protested.
“There’s laws against murder too; want to know how many men I’ve killed for the king?”
A grim fascination took hold of Mr. Caesar. “How many?”
“No idea. Too much smoke and noise to tell who shot who. And with a sword all you know is that you’re standing and the other man isn’t. You’ve no idea if he lives or dies.”
“Do you think they’ll come back?”
Lazily, Captain James reached into his pile of discarded clothingand picked up the major’s sword. “Bloodworth’ll want this, but from what I saw I don’t think he’s really in charge. I think that’s the other one. Or maybe it’s just that the one with the rank isn’t the same as the one with the plan.”
Mr. Caesar laid his head on the captain’s chest. It was disquieting to realise he was surrounded by enemies of which he knew nothing, though not, perhaps, as disquieting as being with a man who wanted him to be better.
But that is a very sentimental notion; I am almost ashamed of myself for recording it. Indeed I bothered myself so much that I withdrew, and attended to other matters that it pleases me to conceal from you.
The following morning, an at least partially contrite Mr. Caesar rose extremely early by his standards and expressed to his lover his intent to return home and have a frank conversation with his father.
“You want me to come with you?” asked the captain in a tone that the part of Mr. Caesar that was used to everything being an elaborate social trap assumed was an elaborate social trap.
“If you wish,” he replied. “I think my parents like you, although my sisters have their misgivings. But I would understand if you had business of your own.”
“Until His Majesty calls me to France,” replied the captain, with an edge in his voice that I, at least, noted, “I’ve got time.”
“And after that?” Mr. Caesar asked.
“Then I’ll be gone. And then I’ll be back, or I’ll be dead.”
It was not a possibility that Mr. Caesar was, in that moment, of a mind to countenance. “You’ll be back, I am sure.”
Captain James shrugged. “I might. But if I don’t I’d rather not spend the next few weeks talking about it or arguing. Let’s get you home.”
The walk across London in the early morning was unfamiliar to Mr. Caesar but far more pleasant than he felt it had any right to be. Yes, the streets were crowded and filthy, and yes, his clothes were still rather damp, he was missing his cravat, and he could feel every cracked cobblestone and broken bottle through the soles of his shoes, but there was a liberation to it. And having already been accosted at gunpoint once, he found himself with little to fear that he had not already experienced.
Unfortunately, as the sun rose and the crowds thinned and they passed into the more socially acceptable parts of the city, that confidence began to wane. On the streets of St. Giles, his dishevelment was invisible and even his heritage relatively unremarkable. On the streets of Mayfair, he and the captain stood out like stars amongst the respectable couples taking their pre-breakfast walks and the well-groomed servants running early morning errands.
At the Caesar house, Nancy opened the door and Mr. Caesar arrived just in time for breakfast, earning a look of mild disapproval from Lady Mary, who felt it inconsiderate to bring a guest unannounced to a meal.
“It’s no trouble, ma’am,” Nancy reassured her. “I’ll get another round of toast on and see about some more coffee.”
The entire family had gathered for breakfast, despite the fact that the elder Mr. Caesar ate sparingly and Miss Caesar of late ate not at all. The atmosphere would almost have been pleasant had recent events not been casting so long and deep a shadow over the household.
“So who found you?” Captain James asked Miss Caesar with unrefined directness.
“Mr. Bygrave,” she replied, with the very slightest look of smugness directed at her sister. “He was very gallant, and to have gone to such lengths I feel he must be quite besotted with me.”
“Well, he would be besotted with me also,” Miss Anne replied, “had I the advantage of fairy magic.”
