Read A Private Gentleman Online
Authors: Heidi Cullinan
A Private Gentleman (9 page)
put a pistol to his head before he would let his father hear of this—
He didn’t realize he’d become so anxious that he’d passed out until he was
lying on the floor, Rawlins bent over him with smelling salts.
“My lord! My lord!” Rawlins’s face was gray. “Oh, I am so sorry—I should
never have let the man bully me into giving you that note. I will call the
authorities straightaway—”
“No!” The word came out in a sharp, desperate bark, the stammer not even
able to rouse itself in time, Wes’s panic was so acute, though it quickly regained
its ground. His plea of “Do not call anyone” stalled at the back of his teeth,
reduced to desperate spits of Ds and Ns.
“Very well, my lord,” Rawlins interrupted him, clearly trying to soothe his
distraught master. “I shall not call. But I shall stand ready, should you need me.”
Wes wanted to balk at that as well, but practicality won out in the end. After
ten minutes of sputtered assurances to Rawlins, he dismissed the man and
continued to his apartments, where he took some pills and poured himself a
large tumbler of brandy.
Ten minutes after that, after growing impatient for Doctor Jacob’s opiates to
take effect, he brewed himself some poppy tea.
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When the knock on his door came at four, he had drugged and drank himself
into a strange sort of calm. There was little he could do now but meet this R and
hope his demands were reasonable. Upon reflection, he suspected Rawlins had
been blackmailed as well, which would explain his nervousness and breaking
form to meet him on the walk. Whoever this was would not be easy to dispatch.
But Wes resolved not to panic. He would face this calmly and rationally.
And very, very drugged.
Wes opened his door ready to face down Rawlins escorting a greasy, shifty-
eyed miscreant, or perhaps a leering, gap-toothed thug. Which was why when he
found instead a polished, well-tailored man of fashion standing beside the butler,
he was taken aback to the point that instead of returning the man’s polite nod he
glanced around the empty hall, still looking for a scoundrel.
“Lord George,” the stranger said smoothly, as if Wes weren’t gaping at him
slack-jawed. “Such a pleasure to meet you, and so kind of you to agree to
interrupt your affairs to see me. I begin our acquaintance already in your debt.”
The man bowed low. “I am Rodger Barrows.”
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Chapter Four
Knowing he wouldn’t be able to utter much beyond consonants, Wes
dismissed Rawlings with a stiff nod and motioned for Barrows to take one of the
chairs in his sitting room. Barrows sat and waited patiently, Wes knew, to be
spoken to so he could begin.
It was with some pleasure that Wes
didn’t
speak. He studied his visitor
instead.
Rodger
. That was who Vallant had mistaken him for at the Gordons’s, wasn’t
it? Surely he must be the same man. They were of the same height, Wes and his
guest, and roughly the same build, though Barrows was a bit beefier across the
shoulders than Wes. His clothes truly were exquisite. Like Barrows, Wes favored
darker tones and clean lines, though he saw Barrows adopted the more modish
necktie and pin rather than the cravat Wes wore. There was also a hint of
flamboyance to Barrows’s dress in his tie, the detail on his lapels and
embroidering on his collar, ostentation that Wes himself eschewed.
Barrows, likely realizing he would wait until Doomsday to be invited to
speak, cleared his throat and began, though he didn’t seem put-off by the silence
at all. In point of fact, he was easy, breezy and smiling.
“Perhaps it is best if I get right to the point, my lord. I understand you
recently met my good friend Mr. Vallant. You did him no small service at Mrs.
Gordon’s party. Relieved him of the attention of a particularly rude guest.”
Wes nodded once and waited for the rest.
I understand afterward he thanked
you in a rather singular fashion.
Heidi Cullinan
But Barrows only nodded, the gesture almost a bow. “I must thank you. By
rights I should have been there to rescue him myself. I am grateful from the
bottom of my heart that you were there to do what I could not.”
There was an odd sharpness to Barrows’s tone, and Wes’s already churning
insides rolled over themselves. Dear God, was Barrows Vallant’s lover? That
sealed it then, didn’t it? Possibly the only thing worse than being blackmailed by
an opportunist wanting to expose his sodomy was a jealous
sodomite
wanting to expose his sodomy. Vengeful lovers could rarely be bought off.
Barrows had paused again, giving Wes an opportunity to speak. He didn’t
take it.
“Ah.” Barrows’s smile slipped just slightly before he continued. “Well. As I
have said, I am grateful to you. We both are, in fact.” His smile righted itself.
“Which brings me to my errand today. I hope I may humbly appeal to more of
your good nature and implore you to do my friend yet one more service.”
Wes laced his fingers together and leaned back, not bothering to hide his
grimace.
Lend us the figure of, say, five hundred pounds. To send me and my good
friend packing from London—at least until we need another five hundred pounds.
Barrows barely paused this time, adapting to Wes’s unwillingness to
participate in his conversation. “I ask you, my lord, to pay a visit to Mr. Vallant.
At your convenience, of course, but I implore you to come sooner rather than
later. Tonight in fact would be most welcome. It is a matter of utmost
importance.”
Wes frowned, waiting for the rest, but now it was Barrows who kept his
silence, and after a full minute, Wes was compelled to rouse his words. He said a
small prayer that just once he could control the stammer, but as usual, his prayer
went unanswered. “I d-d-do not underst-t-t—” He stopped, closed his eyes and
visualized the word. “Understand.”
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A Private Gentleman
“A visit, Lord George. To Mr. Vallant, at his residence.” Barrows paused,
though this time Wes could tell it was for effect. “His business residence.”
Wes’s eyes went wide, and even if words had come easy to him, he doubted
he could have spoken them, not at that moment.
Barrows continued breezily, as if he had not just asked a marquess’s son to
visit a brothel. “It would be a particular kindness to me if you would do so. So
much, in fact, that I should be happy to give you a much reduced rate.”
Wes had to bend forward and press his fingers against his lips to strangle his
exhalation—a laugh? A gasp? Whatever it was, it tasted of madness and terror in
his mouth.
Friend.
No. Barrows was not Vallant’s friend. He was his
procurer
.
Come fuck my whore, please, and I’ll give you half off.
Even before the shock receded, memories were rising inside of Wes:
memories of blond hair in his hands, of a sweet mouth on his, of long slender
hands clutching him as a hot cock slid against his own. Of wicked laughter, a
bright smile and dancing eyes.
Mr. Barrows, tell me where he is, protect my anonymity, and I would pay you
double.
Wes had a feeling that blackmail still lurked in this somewhere—likely if he
refused. What he didn’t know yet was why Barrows had sought him out.
“H-how do you c-care for p-plain sp-p—” Wes gritted his teeth.
Damn
the
stammer. “Sp-speech,” he finished at last.
Barrows’s composed face broke into a wry grin. “Plain speech? You mean we
stop dancing around like ninnies and say what we actually mean? Fine by me,
guv.”
Wes blinked. And then, whether it was pent-up shock or simply insanity
settling in at last, he laughed.
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“Careful,” Barrows said, though he smiled as he settled back in his seat.
“Now, I know you have trouble with words, and I already know you peg me for
a blackmailer. Which”—he flashed Wes a dark grin—“I might yet be, though I’d
rather have you as a customer. So I suggest you sit back, my fine lord, and listen
as I do my best to explain.”
Wes leaned into the corner of the sofa. “V-very w-well.”
Barrows grinned.
“So, I’ve checked into you a bit, Lord George Albert Westin. As someone
who looks into people regular, I don’t mind telling you that you were something
of a challenge. You’re a very private gentleman. At first I thought, no, a man
can’t be that reclusive without having something to hide.” He chuckled. “You do,
of course. But I fell out of my desk laughing when I saw it was
plants
you was smuggling. Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he said, when Wes glared at him. “I
don’t care about that. It was me I was laughing at, really. Thought for sure it’d be
guns or little girls.”
Wes sputtered. Barrows waved his indignation away.
“After everything I’ve seen, I’ve learned not to be surprised.” He shook his
head. “Anyway. Like I said, you’re private. And you’re clever. And excepting
your little moment with Michael, you are the most discreet buggerer I’ve yet
met.” He smiled sadly. “Unfortunately I’ve two servants who will swear they
saw the two of you together. You and Michael, that is.”
In his seat, Wes went very still. So it would be blackmail after all. What he
had feared all afternoon now had come true. Odd, how after his earlier terror, he
felt oddly calm. Perhaps it was shock.
Or opium.
He straightened and gathered his words. “H-how m-much do you w-want?”
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A Private Gentleman
Barrows pursed his lips and tilted his head back and forth, considering.
“Well, regular at Dove Street is fifty pounds for an evening. That’s in a posh
room, mind you. For weeklies we drop it back a bit, thinking of the long term
and all, and I wouldn’t mind setting that up, especially if this goes like I hope.
He’s right worth fifty as you well know. And should this become a regular
event—which is my goal, if this works at all—you’ll pay the regular rate, period.
Perhaps a bit more, seeing as you’re such a fine gent with pockets deep enough
to bribe shipmen.” He sighed. “But just now, since it’s me asking you, and since
even I don’t know how this will go down—” He winced, then nodded in
resignation. “Ten. Ten pounds, up front. And no money back, you got me?”
Wes was getting dizzy from all the earthquakes in this conversation. “You
only w-w-want t-t-ten p-p-pounds to k-k-keep qu-qu-quiet?” Then he
remembered the part about a “regular event”. Ah, now it made sense. “A m-m-
month?” Even so, that was a bargain. Goodness, but Barrows was a reasonable
blackmailer.
“Well, you can come weekly, you know. And at that rate you know you can
afford to.” He stopped. “Wait. Keep quiet?” He laughed. “Guv, this ain’t hush
money. I want you for a
customer.
”
“C-C-Customer?” Wes repeated.
“You didn’t figure it yet? I’m the madam, or the mister, or whatever you like.
I run a house on Dove Street. Right posh we are at that. We serves all kinds, no
questions. I inspect anybody who wants a private room, but once you’re cleared,
you’re in. And before you start worrying about discretion, we keep the right
palms greased, if you know what I mean.”
“I kn-new who you w-w-were,” Wes said, trying to take his time, but he was
desperate for understanding now. “B-but wh-why—?”
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“Why did I scare the piss out of you and your uptight butler? So you’d give
me the time of day. I didn’t feel like waiting around for you to ignore the trash
on your doorstep. Same reason I put on the duds and the talk.” He winked at
Wes and slipped back into his formal speech. “I daresay I did quite well, don’t
you think? And I imagine Michael is correct. Your tailor is Garret on Bond
Street?” He grinned as Wes nodded, and he went back to his colloquial speech.
“Yeah. I knew an actress awhile. She taught me how to blend in. Right handy for
a man in my profession. But you want to know why I bludgeoned into your life
to get you to come fuck my friend for half-price, yes?”
Wes nodded. Yes, he couldn’t wait to hear the answer to this one.
Barrows snorted. “Well, you ain’t gonna hear. So you can sit and wonder.
But the offer stands. For ten quid, you come—tonight would be lovely—and you
shag Michael Vallant good and proper. In return, I will keep your visit a secret
and any such visits in the future. And if you don’t agree to my offer, I will spend
as much effort as I did in getting your attention in letting any and everyone you
don’t want to know you fucked a sodomite that you did. That speech plain
enough, my lord?”
Wes was hanging on to the edge of the sofa now in a vain attempt to keep
the world from spinning crazily around him, but the problem wasn’t with the
