Speak Its Name: A Trilogy (13 page)

“We may as well. In fact, we should have taken it to Sir James. It’s possible that little souvenir has something to do with our mission. Sit down for a moment, would you?” Lord Robert looked at his book again, lifted the cover, then flipped it shut and placed his drink on the table. “Darling, there’s something I need to ask you. It’s prying—damned rude, in fact—but I’m not asking out of personal curiosity.”

Darling took the chair on the other side of the table. “My lord?”

“This business with McDonald—much as I hate to admit it, I’m reluctant to trust him.”

“I agree, my lord—and I see nothing rude in that.”

Lord Robert smiled faintly. “I haven’t got to the nosey part yet. Darling, when you first met Cecil McDonald, it was pretty clear you didn’t think much of him. I didn’t want to press you then—none of my business, really, and he was gone the next day. But under the current circumstances I’d like to know why you dislike him. You’re a perceptive chap. What put you off?”

Jack hesitated. “I meant no offence at the time, my lord. It seemed that the two of you were old friends.”

“We’d known each other at Oxford,” Lord Robert said “Our paths crossed occasionally after that, but by the time I arrived in India, I hadn’t seen him in ages. The friendship was casual at best, we had little in common, and I found that he had changed in ways that I could not appreciate. What was your impression?”

Jack hated to resurrect the old complaint, but he couldn’t think of any other way to explain his dislike. “Captain McDonald did make an unfortunate first impression, my lord. As I recall, your orders were along the lines of seeing to his comfort, finding him a room and something to eat.” He glanced at the curtains stirring lightly in the gentle spring breeze. “You might say he put an unreasonably broad interpretation on the term ‘comfort.’”

Lord Robert’s eyes narrowed. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

Thank God for a good vocabulary; this was definitely an occasion for euphemisms. “Captain McDonald was under the misapprehension that the scope of my service to you was of a more personal sort, and that your orders included similar service to himself. Service of what I might call an intimate nature.”

A slow flush crept up Lord Robert’s fair skin. “That—that smirking son of a bitch!”

“Yes, my lord. I told him that he was mistaken. He declined to believe me. I concluded the discussion by advising him to consult with you if the accommodations did not meet his needs, and I left the room. I may have judged him harshly—he made no attempt to interfere with me in any physical way.”

“I should hope you’d have knocked him on his arse if he had!”

Jack released the breath he’d been holding. “Indeed, my lord.”

“That explains it, then,” Lord Robert said. “He made himself obnoxious that night, teasing me about my devoted, ‘darling’ batman and—well, suffice it to say I saw nothing amusing in his attempt at humour. Even if the fool weren’t completely mistaken about you, to suggest that I would take advantage of a man under my command—!”

His face was still flushed—whether with anger or embarrassment, Jack could not tell. “It was enough to make me wish for the old days of pistols for two at dawn and coffee for one afterwards. I wanted to smash his teeth in.”

Jack said nothing. He didn’t dare. The truth was stirring in him like a living thing, but he simply did not know what to say.
No, he wasn’t mistaken. I would love to have you take advantage of me!
That would hardly do. In fact, he was grateful for his lordship’s integrity. How wretched it would have been to serve under an officer who expected sexual favours, if the attraction were not mutual.

But was it mutual? Jack could not deny what he himself felt. And hope stirred again, a tenuous thread of possibility. A man who would not take advantage might be exercising self-restraint, not indifference. Did he dare speak?

Lord Robert was still fuming, oblivious to Jack’s dilemma. “He must have thought me absurdly naïve. I suppose I was. It had never occurred to me that anyone would stoop so low as to make such an assumption about me. Or about you!” He looked up, his eyes full of some unspoken emotion. Anger? Guilt? “My dear fellow, I am deeply sorry. You must believe I never intended to subject you to anything like that. I can’t do a damned thing about my own nature, and I’m grateful beyond words for your tolerance. I had no idea you would be offered such an insult.”

“Insult, my lord?” Jack’s chest felt tight, and his heart was suddenly pounding. Here it was, then—the chance of fulfilment or the destruction of all he had come to know.

“That you were my—that I would—” Lord Robert flung a hand into the air, helplessly.

“The only insult Captain McDonald offered,” Jack said carefully, “was the assumption that I would be willing to lie with
him.”

It was Lord Robert’s turn to hesitate. “I’m not certain I understand.”

Their eyes met once more, and Jack could not look away. “He was not mistaken about my nature.” And, since at this point there could be no going back, he added, “Nor my feelings for you.”

His heart sank at the look of shock on Lord Robert’s face, and he rose hastily. “I’m sorry, my lord. I’ve said too much, I’ll go to my—”

“No.” Lord Robert caught his hand. “Jack, sit down, please. I had no idea—”

Someone knocked on the door.

They just stared at one another for a moment. The knock came again. “I’ll see who it is,” Jack said automatically, not moving.

“Yes. Do.”

Another knock, and Jack shook himself out of his paralysis, moved to the door like a sleepwalker, and opened it.

Cecil McDonald stood outside, a carpetbag in his hand. “Don’t just stand there, you fool,” he said, shoving past Jack. “I’ve had a hell of a day.”

Lord Robert was on his feet, his face a courteous blank. “So have we,” he said icily. “You’re making quite a habit of ill-timed visits, aren’t you?”

“I needed to change our meeting tomorrow,” McDonald said. “I’d have told you so last night, but your nursemaid wouldn’t let me in.”

“He was acting on my instructions, Cecil,” Lord Robert said. “And if you came here to insult my man, you can leave now. You’d have saved us both some trouble if you’d just told him what you were about last night. Saved even more trouble if you had delivered the parcel to him while you were there.” He did not seat himself, nor did he offer McDonald a chair. “And where were you at seven this morning?”

“I was in a damned Austrian police station, answering stupid questions. They took me off the train at Linz. Some fool of a French detective had mistaken me for someone else and told them I was carrying stolen goods.”

“And were you?”

McDonald gave an unpleasant smirk. “You’re in fine form this evening, Robert. You might offer me a drink.”

“Certainly. What would you like?”

“Gin and tonic. A large gin and tonic.”

Lord Robert nodded to Darling, who silently fixed the drink and handed it to their unwelcome guest.

“The police couldn’t find any reason to hold me, so they finally let me go. I took the next train to Vienna and only arrived here an hour ago.” McDonald threw himself into the chair Darling had just vacated. “I knew I was being followed. I didn’t realise it was the police; I thought it had something to do with the parcel I have to give you.”

“If you were arrested,” Lord Robert said, “I presume you were searched. How is it they didn’t find that parcel?”

“I wasn’t stupid enough to have it in my possession. The papers are in a safe place, here in Vienna. I came straight here from the station to change the time of our meeting.”

“You could have arranged that last night. Darling knows my schedule better than I do.”

“My orders were to contact you, not your servant. Why should I assume he was in your confidence?”

“You didn’t need to, did you? You could simply have said you wanted to meet me—somewhere—for a chat. There’d be nothing top-secret about that!”

“Well, you don’t have to fly off the handle,” McDonald said crossly. “Do you want the papers, or not?”

“Of course. The sooner the better. Right now would be best.”

“I don’t have them with me,” McDonald said. “They’re in a safe place—I need to go fetch them. When would you like to meet?”

“Would it be possible for you to retrieve them now and come right back here?”

“What, tonight?”

“Why ever not? If you’re concerned about being seen in daylight tomorrow, why muck about?” Lord Robert pulled out his watch and consulted it. “It’s not quite nine. It would be convenient if you could be back in two hours. I’m still feeling a bit rocky from being knocked on the head, and I want to see if the Turkish bath downstairs is open. Could you return at eleven p.m.? If you’re worried about being out past midnight, I’m sure the Sacher can find you a room.”

McDonald frowned at Lord Robert, then at Darling. “I must say you’re taking a matter of national security very casually.”

“Oh, I’m taking it seriously,” Lord Robert said. “You have no idea how seriously. It’s your Cheshire Cat behaviour that fails to impress.”

McDonald snorted, and tossed down the rest of his drink. “Very well. I’ll see you here at eleven p.m.—if I’m not murdered by footpads. Do have a lovely time together in the bath, won’t you?”

He closed the door behind himself with a little more force than necessary and once more the two of them were left to stare at one another. The moment stretched out with no end in sight, and Jack was almost afraid to speak for fear of saying the wrong thing. What more could he say? Finally he tried, “I have a suggestion, my lord.”

“What’s that?”

“Do you think we might let the personal matter lie for a little while? I would hate to say or do something hasty and risk making a mistake about something so important.”

“But—” Lord Robert stopped, considering. “Yes,” he said. “I believe you’re right. And in any case, we have all the time in the world for that. We need to keep our minds on the job at hand.”

“All the time—” Jack caught himself. “Then you wish me to stay in your service?”

“Jack, for God’s sake—yes, of course I do. But you’re right, we have two separate matters to think about. There’s no point in getting them muddled. Once we have Cecil’s papers in hand and deliver them to the Embassy, our time is our own. We can sort it out then.”

Lord Robert held out his hand, not a gesture a man would make to a servant. “In the cab, I told you I was lucky to have you. I meant that.”

The firm, warm touch was almost painfully intimate. Jack fell back on force of habit to break the mood. “Did you also mean what you said about visiting the bath?” he asked, releasing the handclasp. “If so, I should inquire immediately.”

“Yes, I did. Still do.”

“Very good, my lord. And—my lord, if Captain McDonald had been taken into custody this morning, doesn’t it seem likely Sir James would have heard of it?”

“Yes.” He shrugged as if shaking something off his shoulders. “I wonder if anything Cecil said just now was true. It’s rather sad, but after being around him for even those few minutes, I feel the need for a thorough cleansing. Just ring for the bellboy, would you?”

~

The bath was indeed open and would be for another hour, time enough. When they stopped at the desk to drop off their room key, Scoville took a moment to send a message to Sir James at the Embassy. It wasn’t likely that McDonald had let anyone else know of his arrival in Vienna, and if he went missing again, it would be Woodward’s job, not theirs, to set the hounds on the trail.

It wasn’t until Scoville was in the changing room of the men’s bath that he felt a faint shock at the change reaching into the very core of his life. He was no longer performing a relaxing ritual of hygiene with his manservant; he was undressing beside a potential lover. He had never felt self-conscious around Darling before, but he felt naked, not merely unclothed, when they exchanged their garb for voluminous white robes of Turkish towelling. Jack was unusually silent and had turned away slightly. Scoville wondered if he, too, was feeling exposed.

They put on cloth slippers and followed the attendant through the bath’s anteroom. A few other men, pink as boiled shrimp, were sitting wrapped in robes and towels, letting their bodies cool before they put their clothes back on and ventured out to the hotel proper.

Beyond that area was the low-ceilinged steam room itself. Heat and moisture swirled around them as they stepped inside. Despite being tiled in dazzling white the room was dim, since the only light came through a thick plate glass panel in the door. Two heavyset older gentlemen were sitting on the bench to the left of the doorway, so Scoville automatically turned toward the one on the right. Jack sat down beside him, a judicious foot away. Scoville leaned back cautiously against the warmth of the tiles and took a slow, deep breath of the heated air. It was only when his body began to relax in the comfortable quiet that he realised how thoroughly tense he had been.

The chamber’s other occupants were conversing quietly in German, not his best language. What little he could understand suggested that they were concerned with the quality of last year’s hops, and speculating on the coming season. It was good to know that despite international intrigue, unreliable colleagues, and sudden emotional revelations, someone was still looking after life’s real essentials.

He stole a glance to his left. Jack was leaning back against the wall, his eyes closed. The poor chap must be exhausted, though he never showed it. No matter where they went or what he had to contend with, Darling was always alert, always on hand with the answer a half-second before Scoville uttered the question, always ready with a neatly phrased quip to turn attention away from his deeper feelings.

Until this evening.
“He was not mistaken about my nature. Nor my feelings for you.”

Dear God
. Scoville closed his own eyes. Darling had first met McDonald when, ten years ago? No, closer to twelve. It wasn’t that long after he’d assumed command in India. Had Jack been carrying a torch all this time?

That would answer one of the perennial questions, though, wouldn’t it—why Darling had been willing to settle for a position so far below his potential. Love could do that to a man. If Darling had been a woman, his motive would have been clear as daylight. Of course, if Darling had been a woman, the question would be moot.