“What are you frightened of?” Curtis demanded.
“Frightened?” Daniel’s mouth twisted. “I’m frightened that I’ll hurt you, you idiot. That you’ll be hurt through me. You’ve no idea what it is to be sneered at for what you are. To have people cut you dead, or look at you with contempt, or have your friends and family turn their backs— You don’t know what that’s like. I don’t want you to know what that’s like. God damn it, I saw your face when you thought your uncles would get those bloody photographs!”
“Daniel—”
“No. I can’t do that to you. To see you look like that, because of me—I couldn’t bear it.”
Curtis reached out and cupped Daniel’s face, feeling the freshly shaven skin smooth against his palm. “Enough about me. What are you frightened of?”
Daniel shut his eyes. He said, very quietly, “I don’t want to be hurt either. And I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who could hurt me as much as you.”
“I don’t intend to hurt you.”
“I know you don’t.” He took a deep breath. “I think you will.”
“No. Daniel—”
“It’s very easy to be swept away when you’re getting your cock sucked.” That nasty bite was back in Daniel’s voice. “But I assure you the appeal will diminish when the whispers start.”
Curtis’s fingers bit into Daniel’s chin, forcing it up. “Look at me. I am not that bastard at Cambridge. I’m ten years older—”
“And have about five years less experience than he did then.”
“Experience of this, perhaps. I’ve plenty of experience facing things a damn sight more dangerous than a gross indecency charge.”
“Danger.” Daniel’s voice was scathing. “You’re rich, your uncle’s Sir Maurice Vaizey, you’d have to bugger the Chancellor of the Exchequer on the Woolsack to get yourself gaoled. We both know you could get out of that sort of trouble. It’s the gossip and the giggles, the cold shoulders and the awful talks with your uncles, and the looks— God damn it, you can’t even begin to understand, can you? If you had the imagination to feel what you’re blithely letting yourself in for, you’d be thanking me for saving you from it before we both get hurt.”
“Well, I don’t, so I’m not. I told you before, I’m not hiding behind you. I’ve a say in this.”
“Yes, and so do I, and I’m telling you now, it’s done with.” Daniel’s face was very pale. “You may not call on me, and I don’t want to see you, and I am not going to be instrumental in your ruin, and you will not blame me for it. That’s an end to it. Don’t look at me like that.”
“I had your promise,” Curtis said. An awful, hollow sense was growing in his chest that Daniel meant it, that he would not be persuaded. “You gave me your word—”
“That’s dagos for you,” Daniel bit out. “Can’t trust them.”
“Archie!” The voice came from the corridor, a stentorian bellow. Sir Maurice, his uncle.
“Hell’s teeth. Daniel—”
Daniel was already moving away, staring out of the window.
“Archie!”
“Here, sir,” Curtis managed to call.
Sir Maurice Vaizey slammed into the room, glancing from his man to his nephew, thick brows set in their habitual scowl. “Da Silva? I thought you were resting. What the devil are you lolling about in here for?”
“I am quite rejuvenated.” Daniel arched a brow at his chief. “Your charming nephew and I have been having a delightful tête-à-tête.”
Incredibly, he had adopted his most effete, drawling manner. Curtis glanced at his uncle with apprehension, waiting for the explosion, but Sir Maurice appeared unmoved.
“Stop playing the fool. What are you up to?”
“Discussing the coroner’s inquest, dear sir. I felt we should get our stories straight on poor James.”
“You won’t be giving evidence,” Sir Maurice told him. “Any self-respecting jury would hang you on sight and I shouldn’t blame them. Go on, get out, make yourself useful, if you’re capable of it. I need to speak to Archie.”
“Charmed as ever. Sir. Curtis.” Daniel left, without a backward glance, and with a pronounced sway in his hips.
“Bloody pansy,” Sir Maurice said, with an astonishing lack of heat. “You’d hardly believe he was one of my better men. Well, I wouldn’t, after the mess he’s made of this.”
“That was my fault, sir,” Curtis said. “I got in his way.”
“Yes, you did. Why didn’t you tell me what you were planning, boy, before heading up here like a lone crusader?”
“Lafayette said he’d already been to see you, sir. He said you didn’t believe him.”
“He did, and I didn’t.” Sir Maurice snorted. “More fool me. Well, we’ve three corpses—or four; is Mr. Holt’s body likely to turn up?”
Curtis shut his suitcase. “No, sir.”
“Good. Three corpses and a cabinet full of treachery, sodomy and adultery. I’m going to need your silence on this, Archie.”