Page 32 of The Gentleman’s Thief

“This passage must have been in use for years to spy upon boys!” I was horrified. A rush of apprehension rushed over me. It felt as if a band had been wrapped around my chest I was unable to breathe. My vision tunneled and I knew I needed to get out of this place, NOW!

I turned and staggered down the passageway and out into the hall where blistering sunlight poured through a line of windows I hadn’t noticed before. I knew how to find my way out and so I hurried through the halls to the backdoor and once again found myself standing in a stinking alleyway. I didn’t care about the smell, I needed to be outside. I leaned my back on the wall and rested my hands on my knees as I fought to catch my breath.

Moments later my companion was by my side.

“You okay old man? You’ve turned rather green!” I gave him a withering look.

“Say, let’s find a pub, or go to Lyon’s Tea House and get you something to drink?” He suggested. The thought of sitting in a public house with people repulsed me. I did not want to be anywhere near the hoi-polloi. My immediate reaction was to hide away until my affliction passed.

“I need to go home, and I’m going alone!” I righted myself and walked away from Sebastian. I hated that he had seen me so unmanned once again, so weak, and pathetic.

“Not bloody likely, dear heart. I shall accompany you!”

“No”, spat roughly and saw the wounded look in his eyes. I continued in a more measured voice.

“Look. If you want to be useful, find a way to gain access to the Cavendish Ball. I do believe I am a lamb to the slaughter.”

Cavendish Ball

After the debacle preceding the erotic ritual, I decided that should the evening at the Cavendish Ball take an unpleasant turn I did not want my servants to, once again, become spectators in my undoing. With this foresight, I informed my servants that I wanted the house to myself and so, they would be receiving two days off, fully paid. I suggested they take the time to visit their families. Mr. Troy had gone to Brighton to visit his sister. Mrs. Twigg prepared several pies and cold cuts for me and left them in the chiller cabinet to ensure I did not starve. She took the foundling housemaids Maud and Anne-Marie with her when she left to spend the time with her ailing mother in Kent. Mr. Wilkins assisted me to dress in my evening attire before he too left the house and I awaited my conveyance.

Reflected in the hall mirror, it felt peculiar to stand and stare at myself, my evening suit hugging my frame, with not a sound in the house apart from the numerous clocks. I wondered what life would be like without my servants. Even more lonesome than it had been, I presumed mournfully. The sound of horse’s hooves on the road drew me from my introspection. I opened the front door to find my carriage waited. My entanglement with Fratres Seminis was about to become even more complicated.

My carriage moved slowly down Piccadilly, waiting in line as other guests carriages pulled up to the door of Devonshire House and deposited the occupants to join the line of guests waiting for admittance.

It was ten-full-minutes until I could disembark at the front door of Devonshire House. I watched each second pass by on the dial of my exquisite Eugene Lecoultre eighteen-karat-gold keyless pocket watch, which was one of the jewels of my collection. Watching time pass helped my anxiety as I had still not replaced my silver cross. This evening was not within the remit of what I would call a relaxing soiree, but having been drawn unwillingly under the wing of the Brothers of the Seed, I had no choice but to attend.

After the announcement of my attendance, I entered the lobby to see that no expense had been spared and Mrs. Cavendish was aiming to throw the most outrageously lavish ball of the winter season. The scent of the woodland was pure and clean, this was because swathes of evergreens trailed on pillars and fronds of ivy, were woven around the balustrades of the staircase. The vast house was festooned with vases of hothouse floral arrangements in red and gold. Privately I mused that the flowers gilded the lily somewhat as Devonshire House was already a magnificent jewel, filled with priceless antique furniture and fine artwork. To my practiced eye, no further adornment was needed.

I could see that the drawing room held guests who sought conversation, the dining-room was laid with a sumptuous supper spread, and the ballroom was alive with music, laughter, and dancing. I strode to the hat-room and divested myself of my hat, cane, and greatcoat. The attendant issued a ticket that I eased into my waistcoat pocket.

I was feeling quite out of sorts. I did not enjoy socializing or the crush of crowds and this ball was brimming with the high and mighty of British society. If Sebastian and I were correct, our interference this night could prevent the ruination of a young nobleman foolishly led into a den of wolves. On my first perusal among the several hundred guests who moved between the rooms I did not see Blake or two of the six acolytes we had identified—Benjamin Cavendish, and Lord Spencer.

The string quartet in the ballroom struck up a jaunty seasonal tune as I strode in. Couples took to the dance floor. I stood at the side of the doorway and glanced around the room, my vision a swirl of floral arrangements, ladies in the season’s most colourful dresses, and their partners sporting the latest fashionable suits and exquisitely crafted boots.

Nerves made my guts all of a-judder. Among this esteemed company I had once felt at home, but now, after years on the outskirts of London society, I was a rudderless boat upon a stormy sea. I had not seen Sebastian or received a letter from him since I’d selfishly abandoned him in the alley outside Exeter Hall. I hoped he had not taken my rejection to heart. I was feeling so damnably lost and wretched at the time and it embarrassed me that, again, he saw me so unmanned. To my eternal shame, he had pulled me from drowning in my bath. I did not believe that after that sorry episode I could be an attractive proposition for a long-term arrangement any longer. How could I be? How could Sebastian feel anything but pity for me now? I hoped in my heart that he had not abandoned me in return because I missed having a special friend with whom I could converse. I wondered, was he here, maybe in the guise of a waiter, or a doorman? If so, I hoped he would make me aware of his presence as he alone could be my lighthouse and guide me to safe waters.

My eyes searched the periphery of the dance floor to the collection of wallflowers who gripped their fans and empty dance cards, their eyes painfully seeking a man’s attentions. And then to the gentlemen engaging in conversation—the gentlemen who were too shy to approach a lady, to those who were not interested in the dancing at all, and those men who were covertly more interested in perusing other gentlemen!

And there, across the large ballroom, I spied a tall, willowy nobleman, his head of blond curls shining as if he were a heavenly being. A gap in the crowd allowed me to take his measure from head to toe. The young Baron had the most pleasing and dignified countenance. In fact, Leopold Von Leibenstein was prettier by far and more elegant than any of the women I had yet seen. His suit was emerald silk and he was clearly here to dance as his footwear was the finest John Lobb leather dancing pumps. He unconsciously swayed in time to the music and looked on longingly, as if he ached to join in.

The last time I had set eyes on the German noble he was being defiled by a group of sexual scavengers and seemed to take great pleasure from it. Leopold began clapping merrily to the music, while occasionally sharing conspiratorial words with a female companion whose back was toward me. The lady turned and I saw that she was pretty as a peach and with the cut of her frock, she was not English. The lady looked my way and as our gazes collided, her eyes widened. She held my gaze for longer than necessary, then opened and fluttered her fan and placed her lace gloved hand upon Leopold’s. She spoke into his ear. This directed the angel-haired man to look in my direction. And as dancers spun and twirled on the dance floor between us, our eyes met and fixed on one another. I fasten my features dourly so that I did not give the impression that I was at all interested or impressed by what I saw, but the other man could not repress a smile. Heat rushed from my head to my toes at the power of those flirtatious glances.

“Quite distracting, isn’t he!” Benjamin Cavendish drawled in his cut-glass society accent. He clapped a broad manly hand on my shoulders and squeezed. I was shocked at his sudden approach and my immediate reaction was to shrink away from his unwanted touch. It appeared that no one had thought to inform the Tory that I did not wish to be manhandled, or touched in any way. I stepped back to release myself from his grasp and noticed that he too wore the same ring as Lawrence Blake.

“I’m glad he’s found a pretty cunt to play with—” Cavendish said his voice full of malice.

“Poor boy’s been rather homesick, you know. We had to keep him sequestered at my country house in Oxfordshire for months—didn’t want to dilute the influence we have over him, you see.”

So, that was why Leopold vanished from London. The cabal kept the Baron in Oxfordshire away from the many temptations of London.

“He’s been desperate to have a little fun. Leo is always so much more open with his affections when he’s indulged in dancing and frivolity.” The man mused as if forgetting that he was in company.

I locked my jaw with disgust. I found the Tory MP to be rather objectionable, but I needed to remain on good terms with him if I was to find out who had put my name forward for Fratres Seminis.

“Thank you for your generous invitation; it’s a rather grander affair than I expected”, I said conversationally. “Devonshire House is indeed a spectacular venue.”

“My wife insisted on no less than three hundred guests. I am relieved Devonshire House was available as we would all have been crushed like tinned sardines if we had attempted to squeeze into my London townhouse.”