Page 40 of The Magpie Lord
On its own, identifying and slapping down an abuse of power would be nothing, a daily chore. But someone fluencing Crane wasn’t an isolated incident. It was part of a tangle of threads—the Judas jack, Hector’s ghost, and the unpleasantlywrongatmosphere of Piper, which nagged at Stephen’s instincts like a bad tooth.
It was of course possible that all these were separate matters, brought together by coincidence, but Stephen hadn’t survived seven years as a justiciar by trusting to luck. So tonight he would watch, and wait, and work out how to unpick the knot of trouble around Crane.
This meant that he would be spending more time here, with him.
Considering the utter fool he had made of himself, for the second time that day, the walk home had been surprisingly tolerable. Crane had kept the conversation flowing: charming, fascinating, amusing. They had talked the whole way back and had reached Piper before Stephen’s urge to curl up and die of self-inflicted embarrassment became unbearable. He had mumbled something about working in the library, suddenly desperate to hide away, and Crane...
Crane had said, “Then we will speak later,” but as he spoke he had taken Stephen’s chin in one hand and stroked that thumb over his lips, opening them with a firm, deliberate touch, so that Stephen found himself standing receptively, obediently, waiting.
That was all. It wasn’t much. But they both knew that Crane could have him at the crook of one long, slender finger.
He could still feel those powerful hands on his shoulders, slamming him back against the bookshelves, throwing him onto thedesk, holding him down. It had been humiliating, of course—his own arousal and Crane’s bitingly accurate assessment of it. It had also been painfully, dangerously exciting, and Crane had known it, had identified Stephen’s desires, and was quite evidently a match for them.
I’m in charge. I’ll take it out on you.
Stephen didn’t anticipate that Crane would let him off so easily next time, and he didn’t want him to.
That didn’t mean this was anything other than madness.
How was your trip to the country, Steph?he imagined his partner asking.
Oh, I let a bored aristocrat use me as his new plaything, and now my Aunt Annie will never speak to me again. So-so, really.
A nice relaxing interlude, though, with a remarkably attractive man who’d normally never look twice at you, isn’t that just what you needed?
Ah, well, you see,he replied to the imaginary Esther,Icouldhave just had a tumble in the grass, but I thought I’d wait and make sure of things. That he’s a decent man. Fair-minded. The things that matter to me.
He could almost see Esther rolling her eyes. He could never have had this conversation with her in reality, but he knew what she’d say all the same:Well done, Steph. Why settle for a bit of simple pleasure when you could turn it into a hopeless passion for a man who could have anyone, and probably will?
He sat on the four-poster bed, looking round at the faded wallpaper that splashed great pink peonies over the room, lit by the rapidly fading evening sun. He was extremely conscious that Crane was just beyond the connecting door, could hear him talking to Merrick in that extraordinary language that made it impossible even to guess at meaning. He thought they might be laughing.
When he emerged from the house, the last of the golden light was turning cold but the evening air was like bathwater, a shock after the bone-chilling freeze of Piper.
Crane was lounging, looking predictably perfect in an impeccable dining suit. You wouldn’t have thought he had a body like a sailor, or a mouth like one. Stephen gave a brief, convulsive shiver at the thought of that mouth.
Crane gave Stephen an up-and-down glance and waved him to the dogcart. There was no groom.
“Are you driving?” asked Stephen.
“Yes. So we can talk.”
“Oh.”
Crane flicked the reins and set the horses moving down the long avenue that led away from Piper. Stephen took a deep breath.
“I think I should apologise for that performance earlier. I made rather a fool of myself.”
“If you think that was making a fool of yourself, you have a lot to learn,” Crane said. “Some day you should bring a bottle of brandy down to the kitchen and get Merrick to tell you about the occasions I’ve really made a fool of myself. I promise you, the brandy will run out before the stories do.” He shot Stephen a sideways glance. “Besides, it gave me the opportunity to put a smile on your face. I enjoyed that.”
Stephen had no idea how to answer that. The horse trotted on. It was dark down the tree-lined lanes, and there was the occasional rustle of birds above and the harsh calls of nesting rooks and, probably, magpies.
“Tell me,” Stephen said eventually. “Your local reputation...is it as widely spread as Aunt Annie suggested?”
“I dare say.” Crane didn’t sound concerned. “I was expelled from five schools, three of them for gross immorality. My father was happy to tell all and sundry that was why he was getting rid of me. And of course, there’s no laws against it in China, so I lived as I chose, and word got back.”
Stephen stared at him. “No laws?”
“No laws, no moral objections. Nobody cares. It’s just one of the things people do. I’m sure my father didn’t knowthatwhen he sent me there.”
