Every day he awoke, dressed, met people, Darius had to lie. He lied about his whereabouts, his desires, his needs. Even to the people who knew who and what he was he lied, to save them more than to save himself. Would they care that the kiss he’d planted on the prim and proper lawyer last night had meant more to him than any other kiss?
Not even Val would understand that. Darius never told him. He rarely kissed anyone, not on the lips, at any rate. He’d stopped touching people as much as he could, withdrawing, wondering if celibacy was the answer to his problem.
Not after last night, it wasn’t.
Andrew Graham had lit something that Darius, for all his experience, wasn’t ready for. Andrew Graham, proper lawyer, cold as ice, with steel-gray eyes that cut through to the truth, had roused Darius. He had meant that kiss as a lesson, as a declaration and defiance. Not as passion.
When his plans evaporated, when he lost control of the situation he had organized, he’d flown up to the boughs, furiously defiant. He’d struck out at the first person he’d seen, determined on some kind of revenge, even of the pettiest kind. He’d wanted to punish Andrew Graham for interfering in his plans, of trying to intercept the man he’d been pursuing before he did. He’d wanted to strike him. Failing that, he’d kissed him.
And nature had struck right back.
Even now, that kiss filled him with the kind of passion he’d turned his back on years ago. At least, he thought he had. The embrace had taken him over, and for a moment, he’d known total happiness. Even now the memory filled him with awe. How could that have happened?
Andrew Graham had done his family a great service last year, but apart from that, he barely knew the man.
He spun and walked. No, that was a lie. Darius refused to tell himself lies, even though he spent his life living one to the rest of the world. He had noticed him then and wanted him, turning away almost automatically. Darius sought his pleasures where he could and where he knew he was relatively safe. Not in public, not in the company of others. Never in the open.
He’d watched his brother’s wedding with joy, glad his restless twin had finally found what he needed, but also with deep envy. He would never find that place, never have anyone he could acknowledge in public as his love. Not unless a miracle occurred and he found a woman.
That would never happen. He liked women but could not imagine being intimate with one.
He took another turn around the cell. The stink pervaded the space so badly he didn’t know if he’d ever rid himself of it. He should have gone home and changed before going to that place last night. Then he wouldn’t have to throw away a nearly new evening coat and waistcoat. He’d wager his valet would never get them clean. In any case, he had no desire to wear them again.
The rattle of keys heralded the arrival of the jailer. He had already eyed the buttons on Darius’s coat and assured him that each gold disc would buy him food and lodging for a week. Darius had assured him they were pinchbeck and watched his disappointment. He couldn’t see much point in telling the man they were genuine. He intended to remain here until he had straightened out his thinking—and no longer.
A sense of doom filled him. His father must have heard of his son’s latest exploit. Darius was headed for an encounter in the study. Although he was full grown, his father still took it upon himself to lecture all his children when he considered the onerous task necessary. Either a fully equipped shouting session or the worse option, a sorrowful recounting of his failures as a father.
Darius would enjoy the shouting, but his canny father would probably choose the latter. Darius would end the session feeling like the worst beggar alive.
He braced himself for the coming ordeal, and he didn’t mean a brief appearance in court. Did he have the nerve to bolt for the country without stopping at the London house first?
No, he couldn’t do that. For one thing, his father would track him down, and then he would know how disappointed his mother was in him, too.
The door opened on well-oiled hinges. Darius blinked against the shaft of light arrowing into the cell. This being an inner-room, his only light had been from the narrow, barred window set into the door. Candles, as the jailer had informed him the night before, were extra. Darius had not bothered to purchase any.
The jailer stood silhouetted against the light, his face in shadow. He wore shirtsleeves and a ragged waistcoat over baggy breeches, no doubt with capacious pockets to hold the bribes the prisoners provided him with. Without the bribes, prisoners didn’t have blankets, and they didn’t eat. Unless they could catch one of the rats that raced through the area now and then.
“You got a visitor,” the jailer said, and beckoned to someone who stepped forward, striding into the cell as if he owned it.
Raising a mocking brow, Darius bowed. “Mr. Graham, I’m honored. You favor my humble abode.”
Irritably, Graham gestured at the jailer, flicking him away. “Don’t lock the door.”
“This one won’t ’urt yer.” The jailer wiped the back of his hand over his nose in a disdainful sniff.
“He won’t try to escape, either. The stench in here is powerful. Leave us some air, pray.”
The jailer grunted, but left.
“The air coming in from the door isn’t much better.”
Graham ignored Darius’s words. “Why did you not leave last night? A word, a few guineas, and the deed is done.”
Darius decided to tell the truth. Some of it, at any rate. “This is the most peace I’ve had since I arrived in London.” Partly true, but he would not admit he preferred the busyness of his life. He could stop himself thinking too deeply that way. “I decided the stink was a small price to pay for one night without the din of society.”
“Poor you.”
Darius blinked. He’d never heard this man so laconically and obviously disbelieving. He had been respectful but decisive before. Darius liked it. He allowed himself a smile. “Indeed. Born into wealth and forced to dress in gold and diamonds. Poor me.”
“That was not my meaning.”
Darius shrugged and folded his arms over his chest. “Were you sent for me?”
“No. I came on my own account. I am on a mission.”
“Explain.” Darius was in no mood for riddles or elegant dancing around the subject.
“Sir, what were you doing in that house last night?”
Darius curled his top lip in a sneer. “Did you not know that part about me? I considered my proclivities an open secret. Perhaps not so much, if you do not know. You are a perceptive man, Mr. Graham. What do you think I was doing at Mother Fleming’s?”
For that matter, what had Graham been doing there? The thought had not occurred to him before, but it did now, in full force. “You acted for my brother as a favor. You are an important man in your field, which is not criminal law. Why were you attending that raid last night?”
Graham nodded. “I do not think you were at Mother Fleming’s for the company. Except for the young man with you.”
Darius heaved a sigh from the bottom of his soul and thought of all the curse words he wouldn’t say until he reached the privacy of his bedroom. Damn the man for noticing the boy. “What young man?”