Chapter 21
D ominick awoke the next morning to his favourite sight in the world. After cutting it all off to blend in back in Spitalfields, Alfie’s hair was finally back to its old length.
The auburn curls, so resistant to taming at the best of times, were at their wildest in the morning, sticking every which way and resembling the nest of creature with a fondness for red but few building instincts. Alfie had his head on Dominick’s shoulder, where beneath the unruly mass his mouth was open in a very un-earl-like fashion. He was snoring softly as he commonly did and yet denied completely, giving the outrageous lie that Dominick was the one who snored.
Ridiculous.
Looking down at him, Dominick doubted any man in the history of the world had ever loved anyone more than he loved Alfie. Their bond was unlike anything he’d ever felt before, and Dominick would spend the rest of his life marvelling at being lucky enough to have not only found his perfect match, but to have found him again when they were old enough to appreciate it.
Then Alfie wormed the ice blocks he called feet between Dominick’s own and Dominick remembered that this was a demon who had been put on this earth solely to vex him. He reached out to brush the curls away from Alfie’s face so he could have a better view of his tormentor and was surprised to find himself wearing mittens.
The events of the night before came flooding back, disrupting the peace of the morning. Not mittens, bandages from pulling a burning corpse from a bonfire in front of the entire county. The smell of the scorched flesh had been revolting, but even worse had been the feel of it under his now-wrapped hands.
His fingers flexed at the memory and he hissed as the bandages rubbed against his raw skin. At the sound, the nest stirred against his shoulder.
“M’Nick? S’it morning already?”
The faintest grey light was peeking around the curtains, just enough to illuminate the man beside him, but not truly enough yet to be considered dawn.
“Nearly, love. I should get back to my own rooms. No reason for Jarrett to start his morning with an eyeful.”
“I think Gil handles that now.” Alfie yawned and wiped his mouth with his hand, eyes blinking open in surprise when it came back wet. “Besides, he can try, but I locked the doors last night. After everything that happened, I just needed to know the outside world couldn’t touch us for a few hours. Is that silly?”
Dominick pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Not silly at all. Many grown men hide from their valets.”
Alfie slapped Dominick’s chest at the jest, then left his hand there. After a minute or so of silence, Dominick thought he’d fallen back asleep until Alfie said, “It really was horrible last night, wasn’t it? How are your hands?”
Dominick held them both up for examination. In the weak light, they looked like the wraps he used to wind around his hands before a boxing match. Although these were far more extensive, as if he’d started winding and simply forgotten to stop.
“They hurt, but I’ve had worse. Looks like you bruised my wrists though. That’ll be hard to explain to Doctor Mills when he changes the bandages.”
Alfie shot up in bed. “Did I really?”
Dominick grinned. Alfie’s knots had been far too loose to cause any actual damage, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy winding up his lover. “Terribly. Since I’m unlikely to recover, you might as well do it again.”
Instead of searching for a fresh cravat, Alfie just slapped his chest again and settled back down.
“Arse,” he said. “You did enjoy it though? It wasn’t too much?”
“Bloody hell, Alfie. What do you think? I’m only mad we didn’t try that ages ago.”
“Oh good.” Alfie sounded smug, but Dominick could admit he’d earned it. “It was for your own good, you know. So you wouldn’t injure yourself further.”
Dominick raised an eyebrow. “No other reason? How noble of you.”
Instead of laughing, Alfie tensed against him.
“What’s wrong?”
Alfie sighed heavily, but only relaxed a few degrees. “Nothing. It’s just… I don’t feel especially noble. In the very real earldom sense. I tried to throw a celebration for my tenants and gave them a nightmare instead. A man I brought here to do a job ends up strangled. My house is swarming with people I don’t know or trust. If Gil tries to explain grain tariffs to me again, I’m going to scream. And to top it all off, a murderer has been terrorising us for months and is growing bolder.
"Oh, and let’s not forget that the strangled man was already found dead once, disappeared, then found dead again in a fire. So that’s quite the fun little conundrum to puzzle over when I’m too overwhelmed by the rest.”
Dominick shifted so he could get both his arms around Alfie, then rolled them so Alfie lay completely on his chest. It was a bit tricky without using his hands, but Alfie obliged him, settling his long body between Dominick’s thighs and folding his arms into a pillow on Dominick’s chest so he could look up at him. He was heavy, but it was a welcome weight.
Dominick kept his arms looped around him, resting his bandaged hands low on Alfie’s back.
“I didn’t know it was all weighing on you so heavily,” he said. “I don’t know how I can help with most of it, but I can toss Gil into the horse trough at least.”
Alfie chuckled. Pressed this close, it felt like the sound came not just from him, but from them both.
“As much as I appreciate the image, he isn’t exactly the worst of it. It’s just frustrating. And every time I feel like I’m failing, I remember I wasn’t actually supposed to have any of this and that makes it all the worse.”
“Well,” Dominick said cautiously. It wasn’t the first time Alfie had worried about his less-than-noble blood. While everyone agreed that the careful breeding of the aristocracy made them superior, from what Dominick had seen, it hadn’t actually done much but make them prone to large teeth and weak chins. “If it means anything, you’re already doing more for Balcarres than your so-called father did, noble blood or not.”
“Easy for you to say,” Alfie muttered. “You’re half-king.”
“And half-maid. And all French, which I’d appreciate you never bringing up again.”
Dominick took advantage of their proximity to flick Alfie on the nose. Or he attempted to, but due to the bandages only succeeded in batting him in the face.
“You’ll get your bearing on the rest of it soon enough,” he said. “It’s really only the murderer that’s the problem. Once we figure out who he is and stop him, the rest will fall into place.”
“Is that all?” Alfie sighed. “But you’re right. And the sooner the better. What do you make of it?”
“Not much more than I did a few weeks ago.” Dominick shifted to a more comfortable position amongst the pillows, Alfie swaying above him like a ship at sea. “Although I can’t help but think that our reappearing corpse is the key to it.”
“I agree, but that doesn’t exactly clarify the matter. As I see it, either Doctor Mills was wrong and Captain McConnell really has been dead since the drawing room. In which case, what happened to his body the first time?”
“Or else Doctor Mills is right,” supplied Dominick, “He’s only been dead a few days. In which case, what the devil happened in the drawing room?”
Alfie nodded, the motion digging his crossed wrists into Dominick’s breastbone. “Either way, that still leaves us with the question of who killed him.”
“And why did they try to kill us?” Dominick added. “I don’t think there’s any arguing that was an accident anymore.”
“I agree.”
Dominick squeezed Alfie tightly, memorising the feel of his body pressed against Dominick’s own. They’d had so many near misses, yet here Alfie was, in his bed and in his arms. He’d never take for granted how lucky he was to have that.
They went through the list of suspects one by one, but little had changed since they’d discussed it in the gymnasium after the rockfall. At least now they knew for certain Captain McConnell was dead, although that was a hollow victory.
“Something strange did happen last night with Mrs. McConnell.” Dominick had almost forgotten in the horror that came after.
“Right as the bonfire was lit, I saw her looking at a man in a mask, a villager I suppose, but not one I recognised. His mask was a terrible one, all scarred and hateful, but then he took it off, his face was worse. It might have been nothing, just her eye catching on someone, but she looked frightened. And when I looked back, the man was gone. That's about when the hue and cry went up, so I might be misremembering, but I swear she was afraid before we found her husband's body.”
“Well, that certainly does add a new wrinkle,” Alfie said. “And an important one by the sounds of it. Do you remember anything else about the man? Could he have been one of the workers?”
Dominick hesitated, stroking his fingertips idly over Alfie’s back as he thought. “I didn’t get much of a look, but I’d swear he wasn’t, at least not any of them that I’ve seen since we started paying attention. I’d remember a face like that.”
“Definitely suspicious,” said Alfie.
“And makes me wonder about Mrs. McConnell too,” added Dominick. “If she knows this man, might she know more she's not telling us?”
Alive hummed. “All right, we’ve added the mysterious stranger to the list of suspects and moved Mrs. McConnell higher. Are we forgetting anyone? I feel like there’s an invisible key hanging right in front of us. It would unlock everything, but we just can’t see it.”
“What about McConnell?” Dominick offered. “The captain, I mean, not the wife. Let’s say, the drawing room was some cruel trick on her. She faints, Mrs. Hirkins flees, and he makes his escape.”
“It could be, but why? Just to sneak out of the woods later to try to kill us? He was an engineer. If he wanted us dead, I have to think he’d find a more precise way of going about it.”
“And why would he want us dead in the first place?” Dominick pointed out.
“ And ,” added Alfie, “that still doesn’t answer the question of who killed him. He certainly didn’t do that to himself. If you consider hanging a form of self-strangulation, fine, that’s certainly possible. But how does a man hang himself and then after he’s dead, cut himself down, get rid of the rope and shove himself into a bonfire?”
“He had help?” Dominick offered weakly. “But that still leaves who. And why.”
Alfie snarled and thudded his head against Dominick’s chest several times. “It just doesn’t make any sense. And I can’t make it make sense and there are so many people relying on me to make everything make sense. I’m an earl, damn it, but I don’t know what to do about any of it. It’s all just so bloody frustrating.”
Dominick stroked a bandaged hand over Alfie’s ear. It wasn’t as tender a gesture as usual, but Alfie still leaned into it.
“You’re doing a better job than you think,” Dominick said softly. “And you’re trying, which is more than most toffs would do. And you know what you’ve got those other toffs don’t?”
“The ability to tell dog meat from rat in a workhouse stew?”
Dominick rolled his eyes. “That, and you have me. You might be an earl, love, but you don’t have to be one alone.”
Alfie stared at him for a long moment, then leaned forward for a kiss. The motion dug his elbows into Dominick’s ribs, but he’d suffer a lot worse for one of Alfie’s kisses. When they broke apart, Alfie didn’t go far, burying his face in the crook of Dominick’s neck.
The moment was interrupted by the growling of one of their stomachs or possibly both, Dominick wasn’t sure.
He laughed. “We won’t solve anything on an empty stomach. Up you get. Since you’ve locked Jarrett out, I’ll need you to help me dress. Can’t do a damn thing with these mittens on.”
Alfie looked delighted to be useful, which should have immediately made Dominick suspicious.
In no time at all, Alfie was up and had dressed himself, but was having much more difficulty helping him. It wasn’t so much that the process was any more challenging with the bandages in the way, but Alfie was in a playful mood, taking his time slowly pulling on Dominick’s shirt, letting his hands skate the length of Dominick’s body through the fine linen. The trousers were a torture. The buttoning of his fall even more so. By the time Alfie finally got to his boots, Dominick just leaned back in his chair and threw an arm over his eyes.
“You do know this is only fun when you take clothes off, not put them on?”
“Are you not enjoying yourself?” Alfie asked, which was an incredibly cruel question to ask when he was kneeling between Dominick’s thighs.
“I’m just wondering, if there were two of you, would this process take twice as fast or twice as long?”
Alfie narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t have the first idea what to do if there were two of me.”
Dominick grinned. That was far too obvious an opening to ignore. “I absolutely do. It might take a while, but the very first thing I’d do is—”
He was interrupted by a commotion in the hall. First the sound of raised voices, then loud footsteps, then a desperate pounding on the door. Alfie snatched up his cane and immediately pushed himself to his feet. Serious now, he slid Dominick’s coat over his shoulders, neither of them breaking stride to do so as they made their way to the door.
Alfie unlocked it to reveal Mr. Howe. The butler's usually neat clothes were dishevelled, as if he’d thrown them on at a moment’s notice, and there was a frantic look to him so uncharacteristic of the always composed man that Dominick was taken aback.
“What’s wrong?” Alfie demanded.
“My lord,” Mr. Howe panted. “It’s little James. He’s missing.”