I know that you know that everyone in this room knows I’m fucking you. Please, don’t do this. Crane made himself meet Stephen’s neutral look with an equally blank one. “I can ask. Cryer will recall a name if anyone does.”
“Then you and I will go to Mr. Cryer. Esther and Mr. Merrick will stay with Mrs. Hart for now, in case of rats. Es, whistle up the others please. If the rats come after Mrs. Hart again, keep a couple alive for me, and we will track this back. If not, we’ll leave her with Joss, and the rest of us will go chase down any connections or, failing that, turn Limehouse over for friends or relatives of this man Xan.”
“You’re assuming Lord Crane and Mr. Merrick’s cooperation,” Esther observed mildly.
“Yes, I am,” Stephen said. “You’d better change, Lord Crane.”
Esther and Stephen left them in the drawing room. Crane changed his clothes rapidly, knowing Leo didn’t care.
“Well, this is a fuck-up,” remarked Merrick in Shanghainese, handing him his trousers.
“It is, yes.”
“That’s him? The little one? Yours?” Leo asked.
“Yes.” I hope.
“Not your usual type,” she observed.
“His usual type is dangerous buggers,” Merrick said. “And there’s no change there. Do not piss Mr. Day about.”
“What are they going to do to me?” she asked in a thread of a voice.
“Nothing,” Crane said. “You’re not in their jurisdiction. Things are different here. Their job is to stop people misusing magic. They might not be very impressed with that story, but unless they find out you personally murdered Xan or the girl, they’ve nothing to say to you.”
“Then why are you scared?” asked Leonora.
Crane pulled on his coat with no respect for its quality. “Let’s just get on, shall we?”
Chapter Thirteen
Crane and Stephen took a hackney to Town’s lodgings, which were in the Holborn area, more for private conversation than to save the walk, although no conversation was forthcoming at first. Finally, Crane took a deep breath and started somewhere.
“Are you all right? With the Golds?”
“Maybe. Probably. It depends how Esther feels once she’s stopped being happy I’m not a warlock. But, well, I said I’d understand if she wanted a new partner, and she said yes, she wanted one who wasn’t congenitally stupid, so I think things might be all right. You can say ‘I told you so’ if you want.”
Crane let out a long breath, feeling one knot of tension ease. “I’m glad.”
“I suppose they always knew, really. Dan wasn’t surprised, was he?”
“Not at all.”
“What were you talking about with him?”
“He was trying to decide if I’m good enough for you.” Crane grinned at Stephen’s expression. “Not quite in those words, of course.”
“He, er, can be a bit blunt sometimes,” Stephen said cautiously.
“So can I. It’s entirely reasonable, Stephen. He’s your friend, he’s concerned for you.”
“And look what I did to him, what I put him through. I’ve told you about the craving for power—well, you saw it then. It was a foul thing to do to him without warning.”
“He said he’s had worse,” Crane commented. “And, if I may say so, you had the same thing happen to you out of nowhere four months back, and you haven’t been madly craving power ever since, have you?” He paused. “Have you? Shit. Stephen—”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it isn’t. How hard has this been for you?” Crane felt a surge of guilt, another unfamiliar sensation. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s nothing I can’t manage,” Stephen said. “It’s hardly as if I’ve been practising self-denial. Every time we go to bed—”
“But that’s on a different scale. I know that’s different and I’m no practitioner.”
Stephen rubbed at his face. “Look, I have three choices. I never see you again so I’m not tempted; I give in to temptation and milk you for power until I’m a raging madman; or I control myself. I don’t like the first two options.”
“Nor do I.” Crane reached for his hand. Stephen’s fingers were still humming with power, the familiar needles stabbing Crane’s nerves. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Can I make it easier for you?”
“It’s fine. This is my problem, Lucien.”