Chapter 7
I t was an hour or so before supper and Dominick was in the library enjoying the glass of port Jarrett had already poured before he arrived. He’d been unsurprised to find Alfie and Gil there, sat either side of the chessboard, and was happy to settle into a chair by the fire while they frowned over the inscrutable game, taking turns moving their pieces in patterns Dominick didn’t understand, nor care to learn.
“There’s an advertisement in the paper that might interest you,” Gil said distractedly, moving one of his pieces in a way that made Alfie scowl. “Page four, I believe.”
Dominick picked up the discarded paper from the chair beside his, something with the outlandish name of The Caledonian Mercury, whatever that meant. He squinted at page four, the tiny print almost impossible to read. He had to read it several times to himself before he was sure of all the words, then groaned and read it aloud.
“Esteemed Architect, CAPTAIN CLYDE MCCONNELL, formerly of the CORPS OF ROYAL ENGINEERS, who has designed such fine works in both the COLONY OF NEW SOUTH WALES and in SCOTLAND, is honoured to announce his latest assignment for the RT HONOURABLE ALFRED PENNINGTON THE EARL OF CRAWFORD at the earl’s residence, BALCARRES HOUSE in County Fife. Captain McConnell is assisted by his esteemed wife OLIVE in the construction of both a folly—his finest work—and gardens for the earl that will soon be marked as the most beautiful in the county if not nation.”
“Kind of him to mention his wife,” Gil added. “There’s another in The Times and that edition’s some weeks old. He must have started running them as soon as the ink was dry on the contract.”
Alfie moved one of his black pieces and took a smaller one of Gil’s off the board. “I suppose I don’t mind him using my name, but I’d have preferred he asked first.”
Now it was Gil’s turn to scowl at the board. “You wanted to improve your image,” he said at last.
“Yes, but I’m not sure it needed improving to the point of being ‘the most beautiful in the county if not nation.’”
“I was thinking I’d go offer them a hand tomorrow,” Dominick said. “Me being there should improve its looks enough to at least get you best in Scotland.”
He remembered too late that they were trying to be discreet, but it wasn’t as if the other men in the room would go pointing fingers.
Alfie huffed out a small laugh, but Gil looked pained.
“I’d advise against that,” he said evenly. “In line with improving Alfie’s image, at best, the cousin of an earl lowered to such physical work upsets the natural order. At worst, it could be seen as taking a day’s wage from an honest labourer.”
“You’re joking.”
Gil shrugged. “I’m only the second son to a second son to a barony and while I was certainly put to work as a child to learn the land , I haven’t been allowed to do so much as hang a painting since I was old enough to ship off to university. Since then the only proper things I can get my hands on are the accounts.”
From how fiercely Gil tackled those, they probably wouldn’t need to hire any other labourers at all if the man was allowed to wield a hammer.
More toff nonsense.
Dominick read the advertisement again, then glanced through the rest of the paper. The world seemed to be in the same mess it always was and deciphering the tiny letters hurt his eyes, so he set it aside. Watching the chess match quickly bored him, but fortunately, there was a much more entertaining game going on.
Jarrett had taken it upon himself to be unusually attentive tonight. Normally, that would be a trial as Dominick was forced to fend off the man’s constant advances, but tonight he found himself being ignored. Thinking back, Jarrett hadn’t been nearly as much of a pest these last few months as he’d been before they’d left, and Dominick was starting to suspect why. While he sat ignored with his glass of port nearly down to the dregs, Jarrett had stepped forward to refill Gil’s glass any time the man took more than a single sip. And if the soft looks Gil gave him every time were anything to judge by, the poor fool was completely besotted. With Jarrett of all people.
Well, well, well. The two had been dancing around each other since before he and Alfie had left for London. Clearly, they hadn’t been the only ones having adventures in the last few months.
He tried to catch Alfie’s eye so he could share this revelation, but Alfie was too absorbed in his game to notice. So he missed the next time Jarrett leaned in to refill Gil’s glass, placing his hand on the back of Gil’s collar as he did as if it steady himself, his thumb running over the skin at the back of Gil’s neck, the intimacy and intent of the motion unmistakable.
Gil shivered, which was the exact moment the door to the library was violently flung open.
All four men froze in place.
Mrs. Hirkins stomped in, hand on one hip, baby on the other. She took one look at the tableau and narrowed her eyes at Alfie.
“Are you building a hareem ?” she hissed.
Alfie started, his eyes going comically wide. Then he looked over at Gil and Jarrett and his eyes went even wider. Dominick could see the moment it clicked into place. Alfie gaped, but didn’t say anything, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.
Dominick couldn’t help it. He laughed, and once he started, he couldn’t seem to stop. He’d been wondering how long it would take Alfie to notice their property manager’s interests didn’t actually lie with women but instead with their valet.
Alfie was one of the smartest men he knew, but utterly oblivious sometimes. Yet Mrs. Hirkins only needed to see them together once, the crafty old bird.
The image of a feathered Mrs. Hirkins looking disapprovingly down her beak made him laugh even harder. Then she turned her narrow gaze on him and suddenly everything seemed less funny.
“I don’t know what you’re laughing at,” she hissed again. “As well he should. Master Alfie can do far better than the useless sod you are. You said you’d sort a crib for the kitchen.”
Dominick shrank back in his chair. “I—”
“I, I, I,” Mrs. Hirkins muttered. “No crib. No other kitchen staff hired, just a lot of sweaty men digging up rocks in the garden and stealing our water to pour all over themselves without refilling the buckets!”
Jarrett made a noise at the mention of wet, sweaty men, briefly drawing Mrs. Hirkins’ ire before she turned her focus back to Dominick.
“Try carrying a raw chicken in one hand and a babe in the other when it’s time to start the pot. Not a mistake you’d want to make. So. You said you’d arrange a crib, and here we are. No crib.”
Then to Dominick’s abject horror, she came over and gently but forcefully sat James in his lap. Dominick’s hands came up to cradle the baby’s head instinctively, which earned him the briefest nod.
“Not as good a proper crib, but you’ll have to do. I’m needed back in the kitchen. Master Alfie, supper will be ready in half an hour.”
While Alfie got a smile, she gave the rest of them a long look. Then she sniffed, turned on her heel, and was gone, leaving the library door pointedly open in her wake.
The four—well, five—of them sat there in stunned silence. Then James began to cry.
Dominick looked down as James' face fell. One tiny hand gripped Dominick’s sleeve as he gazed back up, his little eyes welling with tears. Dominick’s heart tugged. He’d always had a soft spot for poor little things, and James was so small and helpless. Dominick was afraid to move in case he’d fall apart in his hands.
He gave the other men a pleading glance.
Gil raised his hands. “Don’t look at me.”
“Whisky,” Jarrett offered. “I’ve heard a little on the gums quiets them right up.”
“I’m not giving a baby whisky,” snapped Dominick, then immediately regretted it when that seemed to make James cry harder.
“Sorry, dove,” he whispered, bouncing James gently on his knee. Babies liked to be bounced, didn’t they?
This one didn’t, so Dominick looked at Alfie, his last hope.
The expression on Alfie’s face was one he didn’t recognise, but his voice was gentle when he said. “Perhaps some fresh air?”
“We’ll see to a crib while you do that,” Gil said, rising from his chair and giving Jarrett a pointed look. Dominick imagined they’d be up in the attics for quite a while, coming back down with cobwebs in their hair, having only spent a minute of that time actually looking for a crib. He hoped spiders bit them in unpleasant places.
They filed out, but Dominick remained rooted in his chair.
Alfie rose and stood over Dominick with his hands on his hips, his stance an uncomfortable mirror of Mrs. Hirkins’.
“You knew about this,” Alfie said accusingly.
“What, James? He’s a bit hard to miss. If I’d known I’d be stuck with him though, I’d have done a better job of remembering that crib.”
Alfie shook his head. “Not him. Gil. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Ah. That.” Dominick shrugged, careful the movement didn’t dislodge his charge. “It wasn’t my place to tell.”
And it was damned funny watching you figure it out, he didn’t add.
Alfie let out a sniff as disapproving as any of Mrs. Hirkins’ best.
“I’m still not happy.” Alfie’s mouth twisted. “But really? Jarrett?”
“You’re the one who added him to your hareem. Clearly you and Gil have similar tastes.”
“Don’t you start. Come on, if we’re going to take this one on a walk we’d best start now before it gets dark.” Alfie started to walk away.
“Alfie?”
“Yes, Nick?”
“How am I supposed to hold onto this blasted thing and stand at the same time?”
This time, it was Alfie who couldn’t stop laughing.