The Gentleman's Thief - Isobel Starling Page 0,48

any moment.

“How did you get into my bathroom last night, the door was locked from the inside?”

“I called at the house to ensure you had returned home. Your valet and houseman were in a bit of a state and said you were unavailable to visitors. In fear, I shimmied up the drainpipe beside the kitchen door, jimmied the bathroom window and climbed in, not a moment too soon either.”

Shame burned in me. What had I been thinking?

“I’m sorry you found me like that.”

“I’m not. If I hadn’t found you…Don’t you ever do anything like that again, or so help me, I’ll kill you myself!” Cavell scolded. I was touched that he cared. Something electrifying passed wordlessly between us. He moved in and laid his head upon my chest and all of the twisted sinew anxiety I’d been experiencing melted away. The warmth of his cheek on my chest was a balm. He pushed a hand under the covers and rested it on my abdomen. We lay like that listening to the house awake and my servants going about their morning routines. I was at peace, content. I did not want this moment to ever end, but I was a realist and I understood that my life would never be the same again—not now that I had witnessed that ritual.

“What am I to do?” As I said those words aloud I was unsure if I asked myself or my lover.

Sebastian kissed my chest and rubbed his hand comfortingly over my belly. He looked up and said, “Honestly, dear heart, the wisest course of action would be to play along and gather as much information on this cabal as you can. Information is power.”

“Do you believe I am in danger?”

“Short answer, yes.”

“And the long answer?”

“If you tell the police what you saw, you will most certainly be arrested. In the eyes of the law, you are a voyeur who has not only witnessed the sexual performances of other persons, you were watching sodomites. Therefore, you are guilty of sodomy by association. We don’t know who those men are—the well-connected tend to look after their own.”

Again, these observations were very astute.

“What do you plan to do?” I queried.

“Oh, I know exactly what I will do.” Sebastian purred. “I will be removing Baron Leopold Freiherr Von Liebenstein from their clutches one way or another, you mark my words. And when I do I fear that there will be hell to pay for ruining their plans.”

An Invitation

Sunday 9th January 1898

I remained abed for two-whole-days recovering from the effects of that beastly drug concoction. Cavell left my servants to care for me, and after Mrs. Twiggs Beef broth, a dose of Dr. J Collis Browne’s Chlorodyne, and many hours of rest I was feeling more able to face the world again.

The morning of the third day brought two surprises after I had attended the Sunday church service. The first surprise was Mr. Foxford Robins, who decided to call and breakfast with me, and the second surprise was in the stack of mail that had accumulated since I had been unwell.

Mrs. Twigg was delighted to have another mouth to feed and she appeared to be very fond of Birdie. It was uncommonly good to not breakfast alone. I had been too long in my own head with questions I could not answer tying me in knots. I longed for a conversation with a man who was on my level. And so we ate and conversed as if we had known one another for years when in reality we were just over two weeks into our friendship.

When I sorted through my small stack of correspondence I discovered a square cream invitation card. I picked it up and at once noted the lion and unicorn motif of the House of Commons. I turned the card over and the script read.

Mr. Benedict Hannan

You are invited to celebrate the New Year of 1898

with

Mr. & Mrs. Benjamin Cavendish MP

Devonshire House,

Piccadilly.

11th January 1898 at 7 p.m.

R.S.V.P

Soirees to celebrate the New Year stretched out well into January to ensure a busy social calendar for socialites. I received the occasional social invite but rarely attended an event. This particular party was a different matter.

Sebastian’s pipe smoke was billowing in a blue-grey cloud from behind the copy of The Times newspaper that he was reading. We had enjoyed a hearty breakfast of toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, and sausages.

“What do you think of this?” I said casually. The newspaper was lowered and I held up the card