Page 29 of The Confessions of a Lady
Liam glared at the baron’s son. ‘Don’t you have some important errands to run, Charles?’ The young man stumbled in his haste to get away from Drake and Killian, clearly intimidated by the imposing men.
‘Hopefully one of them includes a bath.’ Killian’s gaze rudely swept from the top of Charles’ oily head to the bottom of his scuffed, heeled dancing shoes.
Charles gave a final glance to Liam’s pocket where the letters bulged – his hand still pressed against his bleeding mouth – before he nodded. Spinning shakily, he wove through the crowded coffee house to the street beyond.
Before Liam could stand and greet his friends, Killian took Charles’ vacated chair and Drake pulled another one over from the nearest table, much to the bluster of the man about to sit in it. One glare from the scarred major general had the manstuttering an apology and looking for a different table entirely, far from Drake.
Liam pointed to Charles’ mug. ‘I would get a fresh mug if I were you. I’m not confident whatever Charles has isn’t catching.’
Killian moved the mug to the edge of the table and winked at his friend. ‘Wasn’t that Barrington’s son? I’m sure his father would be highly disappointed to see young Charles hanging out with a reprobate like you, Liam. Rumours in the beau monde abound about your devilry.’
Liam snorted. ‘I’ve no doubt the baron is disappointed in his son, but I hardly think it has anything to do with me.’ Liam noted the subtle changes in his two friends as he watched them over his coffee mug. He hadn’t seen Killian and Drake in over a year. They were two men who knew the darkness of Liam’s soul because they carried their own demons.
A long-forgotten feeling effused Liam. Comradery and the warmth of friendship. He’d almost forgotten the joy of being with two souls so similar to his own. There were a few more streaks of silver in Killian’s black hair. New wrinkles fanned around Drake’s eyes. But what was most notable was the air of contentment each man exuded. They seemed… happy. And he found himself happy for them, though he was curious to understand how they had vanquished their demons.
What has changed in the last year?
Killian and Drake had married, but that couldn’t possibly be the reason. How could men like himself, brothers in arms, partners in sin, ever find peace?
‘What the devil are you doing with him?’ Drake thrust his chin in the direction Charles had scampered. He was never one to waste time on niceties.
Liam shrugged. He wasn’t sure how much to reveal. These men were still probably his closest friends, but they worked for the prime minister. He knew this, because he had beenwith them when Prime Minister Russell had offered Killian and Drake positions. He had offered one to Liam as well. But the Queen got to Liam first. And one certainly did not refuse Her Majesty. While they all fought for the same goal, they employed very different methods.
Drake and Killian hadn’t understood Liam’s refusal of service. It drove a wedge in their friendship. But he could hardly betray the Queen’s confidence. So, he worked to drive the wedge deeper.
They had survived hell together. Knew everything about each other. Stood on the brink of madness and held firm, refusing to let any one of them fall into the abyss unless they all went. It would be impossible to keep secrets from them if he maintained his friendship. When Liam began his search for Theodore, only a few months after they returned from the Anglo–Afghan war, it was easy to let his ties with Killian and Drake fade and blame it on the search for his half-brother. So, he let them disappear from his life, ignoring how much he missed them until now. Sitting opposite them, it was so easy to slip back into their easy conversation and pretend the four years had never happened.
‘I owe you an apology, Drake. I meant to come to your wedding celebrations, but I couldn’t leave?—’
Drake waved a hand in dismissal, cutting off Liam’s excuses – which was a blessing. They knew about Theodore. The beau monde had been fairly buzzing when news erupted that the Marquess of Stoneway had a bastard brother, and even more scandalous, he’d taken the sick man into his home to nurse him. People couldn’t decide if it was heroic, or an unforgiveable breach of etiquette. Killian and Drake had both reached out to Liam, but he hadn’t time to respond to them before first Reynard then Theo passed.
Drake’s rough voice pulled Liam back to the present. ‘You don’t owe me a thing, least of all an apology. I only wishthings had ended differently. Reynard…’ The gruff man shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
‘It was an accident, Drake. A stupid misfiring of his hunting rifle. Hardly your fault.’ Liam knew the truth of his brother’s death, but he couldn’t share that with his friend. He couldn’t relieve his friend of the obvious guilt Drake felt for playing a role in Reynard’s death. Because to do so would be admitting that Liam was working with the Queen. He knew about the investigations his friends were entangled in to ferret out the leaders of the Devil’s Sons. They were all working to infiltrate the same evil group from the opposite side of the law, but Liam must keep his role secret.
‘Damn it, Liam. The last thing any of us wanted was for Reynard to die.’ Drake rarely showed emotions. The pain flashing in his pale eyes was akin to an emotional breakdown in any other man.
Liam ran his hand through his hair. It was too long and needed a trim, but he couldn’t be damned. ‘But you couldn’t have stopped it, Drake. No one could.’ It wasn’t a complete admission of Reynard’s true end, but it was the closest he could come to alleviating some of Drake’s guilt.
Liam couldn’t stop the double-edged sword of grief and anger that sliced through him when he thought of his brother. Not anger toward Drake. But rather focused directly on his brother. Reynard hadn’t been strong enough to fight the sickness swimming in their blood. A deadly disease passed onto them by their father. And the fool was too stubborn to ask for help or accept what support was offered. ‘You know we were never close, as I’d hoped we might become. I only wish I could have done more for him.’ The words rang hollow in Liam’s ears as a burn spread over his chest, up his neck, and coloured his cheeks in shades of shame.
Killian smacked his hand on the table. ‘You did what you could, Liam. Punishing yourself for the distance between you helps no one. Reynard is gone now, but you are here. We are here. And we… well, we…’ Killian looked around the crowded room. ‘Where the hell is that coffee boy?’ Raising his arm, Killian flagged the young man down and ordered two mugs of coffee for himself and Drake.
Liam knew what Killian was trying to say. He missed his friends as well. But he still had secrets he must keep.
An errant image of Miss Smith flitted through his mind. It struck him, the women being targeted by the Devil’s Sons were part of her social sphere. Young maids looking for a future in the grand houses of England’s wealthiest families. Just the thought of Penny being drugged, nailed into a coffin, and forced into a life of prostitution filled him with rage so raw, he feared he might lose control. He needed to spend less time obsessing over bedding her and more time devoted to destroying a group of men threatening women just like her.
Despite his determination to reframe his thoughts, she lingered there just as the maddening scent of vanilla and cloves lingered in his room after she made his bed, the trace of her fingerprints lingered on the desk after she polished his study, a stray mahogany hair lingered on the pillow after she thumped it to plumpness in his sitting room. He felt her presence everywhere, like a ghost. Even here in the coffee house, talking to his closest friends about his brother’s death. He wished he could share with them his dilemma. They had both found happiness in unusual unions; perhaps they might have wisdom to guide Liam. But his obsession with Miss Smith was one more secret best kept to himself.
He shook his head, refocusing on the men in front of him instead of the woman crowding his thoughts.
‘Speaking of sins, there are rumours circulating about you, Liam.’ Drake’s closely cropped blond hair caught the light, shining like a halo for a man decidedly more dragon than angel.
Liam raised his brow. ‘Since when did you listen to the gossips, Drake? Has marriage softened you so quickly?’
‘Contrary to my own opinions, marriage has only improved me.’
‘How is that possible when you’ve always claimed to be perfect?’ Killian smiled at his friend, deftly avoiding the spoon thrown at his head.
