Page 42 of Brave Truth

“The broom closet— and then his flat— were Tuesday. I was out all day yesterday and most of today. And we’ve been going for a drink for a couple of months now, after the Tuesday meeting.” She knew Matty was running it. Claudio had talked about the various bits a few times. Both because it was highly relevant to Hypatia’s professional interests, and because she’d helped him figure out how to approach a couple of shortages sensibly.

“Right. Sit down, start from the beginning.” Cammie went back to perch on the arm of the chair she’d been sitting on. “Good gods, when you do a thing, you do it thoroughly. And fast!” She sounded entirely approving. “When do we get to meet him in these new circumstances?”

Claudio glanced at Hypatia, who was technically the one who got to decide this, being the lady of the house here. “I was going to say next Thursday, if it wouldn’t put anyone out, but maybe the Saturday would be better if we can manage it? He wouldn’t have to work in the morning, and I’m not on call that night. We could go late if we wanted. I can’t this week, I’m on call.”

She tilted her head, obviously mentally reviewing six calendars and the current nanny scheduling, as well as the plans for food. “Saturday would be quite convenient, actually. Achilles was going to be out, and Eleanor mentioned supper with friends, too. Bring him, please. But more details, yes.”

Claudio took a deep breath, reached for the glass that Orion was holding near his hand. He started at the beginning, as much as he could, with what he’d learned about Matty so far. It came out to a tidy amount, which carried through to actually sitting down for supper.

Supper involved sorting out the strategy for who to tell and how to get Matty to meet the key people. Not Mother, obviously. Everyone agreed on that. But Thesan and Isembard, Claudio desperately wanted their approval. The Edgartons, singly and communally. They had an excellent eye for people, and if they had worries, better to know now.

The rest of it focused on the larger stage of Albion, which none of them quite knew how to tackle yet. As Orion pointed out, it was fundamentally a joint project, and Matty ought to get to have opinions about a lot of it. They were, however, fascinated by what Claudio had learned about Hereswith Rowan and others on the Council who had walked at least a similar sort of path in the past.

By the time they split up for the evening, Claudio didn’t have many more solid answers. But he was absolutely clear that his friends— his brother, but all of them— had his back. They would be there and would bring every one of their considerable skills to helping this work out.

Chapter 28

Tuesday, June 6th

Matty made his way into the pub on his own. He knew this was necessary; he knew why. But he didn’t like it. Not for himself, and certainly not for Claudio. They’d had time on Sunday, before Claudio went off to see his daughter, enough to kiss and lean and mostly talk.

Claudio had told all three sets of people whose opinions he actually valued about Matty, and it had apparently gone well. It meant Matty was now anticipating various introductions, or introductions in a new context. He’d deal with that challenge to charge at when it was time. Later this week, mostly. One problem at a time.

Tonight, though, it felt like Claudio was going into battle, and he ought to have support, and he wouldn’t. Saying it, even inside his head, felt overblown, but it wasn’t. Not really. Not the ways that mattered.

Matty was going to be here, in a pub that was as safe for him to be himself as any public place in Albion. Claudio would be telling his mother he was Challenging for the Council. And also, if he managed it, gesturing at the fact that he was exploring a relationship she wouldn’t care for.

Claudio had sketched out the various strategic options on Sunday. He’d even brought out a charm for it, that let him project various choices on the wall. But Claudio had to face his mother, and he probably would not be able to come back and see Matty after, depending how it went. Matty liked none of it.

As he opened the door and waited for his eyes to adjust, he glanced around. Treeve Dixon was leaning against the bar, chatting with York, but looked up and immediately waved Matty over. That was unusual. Treeve had his usual table, and he wasn’t in it. “Sir, something a problem?” The deference was instinctive.

Treeve smiled slightly. “Some people I wanted to introduce you to. They’re in the back room; they prefer things a little quieter. You mind? Were you meeting anyone?”

Matty felt himself stumbling over what to say. “Not tonight.” That sounded fine, didn’t it? He glanced at York, then asked, “People you know too?”

“Not regulars here, but they come by often enough, good sorts. Once a month or so,” York made the answer promptly enough, like he’d had it ready. “Your usual? Wait for me to get it together, and you can take it back with you.” York went about briskly getting the beer and going to get a serving of fish and chips from the kitchen, while Matty stood awkwardly. Treeve did not make conversation, but it didn’t seem to be a problem that Matty was quiet.

A couple of minutes later, Matty had been provided with a tray, his food, and his beer, and Treeve went ahead. People moved out of their way, not making a fuss about it, but obviously recognising Treeve had something specific in mind.

Treeve opened the door to the smaller of the back rooms, just big enough for a table for four or five, depending on how friendly they were. Two men were settled there, in comfortable conversation, both well into their eighties. Maybe nineties. One man had the sort of shoulders that suggested he’d been brawny when he was younger, and his body hadn’t entirely forgotten how that worked. The other man was slimmer, certainly less broadly built, and looked more like an academic or senior member of the Ministry staff.

“Here we are. Shall I let you get on with it?” Treeve had stopped behind Matty at the door.

“Ta, Treeve.” The comment from the slimmer man was amiable. “Chat with you when we get a chance? Or I’ll make an appointment, shall I?”

“For what you were going to talk about, an appointment. So I can properly enjoy it. Matthew, have a good evening, see you around.” Treeve disappeared, the door closing.

The slimmer man gestured. “Put your tray down first? It’d be a shame to drop it.”

“Is that likely, sir?” Matty wondered if he should be feeling afraid. He knew plenty of men where the way this story went had been bad. Entrapment by the police— all right, that was in London. A touch of blackmail, any number of places. A proposition Matty would have to figure out how to turn down without causing problems, short and long term. On the other hand, York had clearly known who was in here, so had Treeve. “Pardon.”

“Tray?” The man repeated it gently, and Matty put the tray down because it wasn’t actually a bad idea. It’d leave his hands free. He wasn’t much of a duellist, not these days. It wasn’t like he’d been able to do that sort of practice for the better part of the last decade. But he’d always been best at the protective charms.

He felt himself shifting slightly, which produced a slight twitch of amusement on the larger man’s face. Then the slimmer man made a series of gestures, the same privacy charms that Claudio used. And Doyle. And apparently Gabe Edgarton, not that Matty had seen that.

He rocked back onto his heel, cursed the fact he’d put himself off balance, then said cautiously. “Sirs?”

“Pardon, but some people do like skulking for gossip.” The larger man held out his hand. “Magni Torham. I was the Duelling Master for the Guard for many a year.”