Five
“This is the last time you will ever accompany me anywhere!” Lavender hissed once they were on the terrace. He checked to make sure they were alone before he pointed a finger at Reginald. “Damn near everyone saw you and anyone who hasn’t has heard by now. This will be all over London by morning.” He poked Reginald and backed him down the steps and away from the house. Reginald looked behind him before holding up his hands and taking them around a tall hedge and into a maze.
“It doesn’t matter! None of this is real!” He insisted.
“It’s real to me and I don’t want that American in my business. I’ve heard about his type and you’d do well to stay very far away,” Lavender warned but Reginald hummed sarcastically.
“Like that’ll happen. There isn’t a force on earth that’ll keep me from him. He’s everything, Lavender.” He stopped when they reached a statue of Aphrodite.
“He’s trouble. I know why he’s here and you don’t want to get involved,” Lavender said then turned when a twig snapped in the shadows.
“What do you know about my business, Lord Lavender?” Paul asked. One hand was pushed into a pocket as he flicked the end of his cheroot away and Reginald had never been more turned on in his life. Paul’s accent was more American and had a bit of a twang, and he carried himself with even more defiant swagger.
Lavender gave Reginald a hard look before aiming his shrewd glare at Paul. “You work for that fellow named Pinkerton, out of Chicago. You’re one of his new policing detectives. Pinkerton is creating his own version of Scotland Yard in America,” he said to Reginald, earning a soft clap from Paul.
“Looks like you’ve been warned as well.”
“Were you warned about me?” Lavender asked sweetly. There was a soft hum as Paul nodded. Reginald smacked his forehead and groaned as his hand dragged down his face.
“Must we do this here too? We’ve all gotten past this,” he told them but Lavender and Paul continued to stare each other down. “May I borrow him for a moment?” Reginald asked Lavender as he hooked his arm around Paul’s. He had to pull hard because Paul wasn’t inclined to follow and there was a low chuckle from Lavender.
“I find myself rather underwhelmed with your Mr. Everything,” he murmured. Paul’s brow fell before he went to lunge at Lavender but Reginald towed him away.
“I don’t know what the hell you two are talking about,” Paul began, his finger whipping around in Lavender’s direction. “But I’m not done with you.”
“I’m certain I didn’t bring you here so you could pick at old wounds and start silly fights,” Reginald scolded as he tugged. Paul’s feet dragged and his arm yanked but Reginald held on until they came around another hedge. They’d found the fountain at the center of the maze but the water had been drained for the winter and the pool was filled with dead leaves.
Paul laughed incredulously as he swept a hand through his hair. “And I’m certain that I’ve never laid eyes on you before in my life.” His hair was longer and fuller on top than he usually wore it and Reginald was dying to run his fingers through it. “Now, I am mightily flattered, my lord, but I didn’t come all this way—”
“Why should you be flattered?” Reginald interrupted.
“Well… You are a lord and I’m a mere—”
“A mere what?” Reginald countered as he drew himself up and advanced on Paul. “I may not know everyone inside that house but I can tell you that there are many lords and they’re all nearly worthless.” He reached to cup Paul’s cheek, but his head swung back, leaving Reginald momentarily wounded, bereft as the evening’s chill seeped through the layers of wool and velvet. “Imagine not being able to touch that which you cherish most in all the world,” he whispered, then sniffed hard, becoming effervescent and brave again for Paul. “There are many worthless lords in London but there is only one Paul Sloan.”
“That may be true but you don’t know me!” Paul insisted, adamant and frustrated. “If I was at my leisure and on more familiar territory, I might be more inclined but I came here to do a job and I don’t have time to indulge in whatever…this is,” he said as he gestured between them.
“Fate?” Reginald suggested, making Paul snort.
“My lord,” he gave Reginald a patronizing look. “Neither of us are children. You seek…carnal pleasure, not affection and companionship. And while I am not opposed, I’m not here to dally. Several young women have died and I mean to find answers.”
“Of course, you do!” Reginald exclaimed and reached for Paul. But, once again, he danced back out of Reginald’s reach. He felt another cold ache but Reginald told himself the rejection and the fear weren’t real and pushed forward. “Because you can’t stand by and be idle when there’s a wrong to be righted or a victim to be rescued. And if there’s an answer out there, you’ll stop at nothing until you’ve tracked it down.”
“A touch fanciful but you’re not wrong…” Paul conceded hesitantly. “It’s a pretty safe bet to say that about any of the men and women at Mr. Pinkerton’s agency, though.”
Reginald laughed and decided that was a challenge. “Alright. Here’s what else I know: you’ve still got your cocky American father’s chivalry and your immigrant mother’s determination and self-reliance. You’re just like your father and he’s a judge—” Reginald paused and his head tilted as he considered, then smiled. “He’s a sheriff and you were born in a brand spanking new state called Missouri in the very heart of the booming American Midwest. You started out as a lawman, following in your father’s footsteps until you heard about Pinkerton’s new agency and headed up to Illinois.”
“You probably heard all of that secondhand from Lady Coonan. The Commissioner must have told her,” Paul said weakly but Reginald shook his head.
“I don’t know Lady Coonan,” he said, then wrinkled his nose. “At least, I don’t think I do, but I know you! You’re terrified of bugs, you adore cats, you’re a pretty decent dancer and you love slow-dancing, you like to play with my hair while I’m falling asleep, and you like it rough and really nasty,” Reginald purred, making Paul jump. He swallowed hard and shook his head.
“You can’t know,” he choked out and this time, Paul didn’t pull away when Reginald’s fingers trailed along his jaw.
“Oh, Paul. I told you before, I know who you are and what you like. You’re a very good man—the very best—but you love bad things. What we have isn’t just carnal. It’s spiritual and it’s chemical. I’d know the taste of your arse and your cum, the smell of your sweat and your piss if I was blindfolded. You’ve bound me, gagged me, choked me, whipped me, fisted me, flogged me, caged me, collared me… I could go on and on because the only thing I’ve never done is say no.” He watched as Paul reeled, enjoying the pink stain that spread across his cheeks and down his neck.
“I…” Paul gave his head a quick shake and cleared his throat. “I didn’t understand half of that or know that some of those things were possible. Almost wish I did and I had time to make sense of this but I’m here to track down a murderer. I can’t afford to let myself be distracted.” He let out a heavy, regretful sigh and tried to make his escape but Reginald braced a hand on Paul’s chest, halting him.
“I need help, Paul. I’m here for a reason and I’d like to know what that is before I wake up. If I can wake up…” He added with a sheepish cringe. “I may have broken something and I might be stuck,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. Reginald looked around and back at the house. “D’you think there’s any chance the Coonans are serving morphia with the ratafia tonight?”