Chapter 4
Chapter Four
T homas wasn’t sure what was more shocking—that Evan Devere, all-round hapless idiot, had just killed a man with such ruthless efficiency or that he was so casual about asking Thomas to help him with body disposal.
No, it was definitely the killing part.
“You… what ?”
Evan reached up lightning quick and grasped Thomas’s wrist, pulling his arm away from Evan’s throat. The duke spun Thomas on the spot and twisted his arm halfway up his back before he had time to blink. The knife clattered to the floor and Thomas found himself shoved against the wall with a strength that belied the duke’s lean build.
“That’s better,” Evan said, his breath warm against Thomas’s ear as he pressed against Thomas’s back. “Now, I’ll ask again. Are you going to keep your mouth shut and help me with the body or do I have to kill you as well?”
Thomas threw his head backward sharply, hoping to catch Evan off guard. It was dirty fighting, but since he’d just had his life threatened, he felt this was one of those situations where the rules of sportsmanship probably didn’t apply.
Evan, though, just dodged and laughed. “Captain, you fight like a street brawler! I knew there was a reason I liked you! Mind you,” he added as he yanked Thomas’s arm further up his back, “I also fight dirty.”
Thomas froze as something cold and sharp nudged at his ribs.
What the hell was Evan doing with a knife? He could barely manage cutlery!
Thomas closed his eyes, barely daring to breathe. His mind whirled and spun as he picked through what he knew and tried to make sense of this whole mess.
Evan—bumbling, scatterbrained Evan—had killed someone, and he wasn’t the least bit bothered about it. And furthermore, he’d snapped the viscount’s neck with an ease that suggested he’d done it before. He’d escaped Thomas’s grasp, which was no easy feat, and now Thomas was the one being held at knifepoint. It didn’t make any sense.
Except suddenly the pieces fell into place, and it did .
All the air rattled out of Thomas’s lungs in one long breath at the enormity of what he’d discovered.
Evan Devere was a joke. Everybody said so. He was a man who moved between kingdoms at will, swanning over borders with no rhyme or reason, and nobody ever questioned him, because why would they? He was known to be a fool. And certainly, if you looked closely, he was always where he shouldn’t be, at the periphery of a scandal or an unfortunate accident, but nobody ever did look closely because again, why would they? Evan was harmless.
Right until he wasn’t.
“You’re… you’re him, aren’t you?” Thomas said finally. “You’re the Rogue.”
Evan leaned his chin on Thomas’s shoulder and let out a long sigh. “You know, it’s almost embarrassing that after all these years, when I finally get caught out, it’s by one of the bloody guards. ”
“You. You’re the Rogue,” Thomas said, because he felt it bore repeating, if only to help him come to terms with the way his entire world view had just been tipped on its side. “And you just killed the viscount.”
“Guilty as charged,” Evan said, “but he was a threat, and he would have killed me if given half a chance. I just beat him to it.”
Some of the tension left Thomas at the confirmation that at least Evan was on the side of Lilleforth and not just a murderous lunatic who went about snapping necks for entertainment.
Thomas dared to turn his head slowly to the side, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Evan regarding him with a raised eyebrow. “So, what’s it to be, Captain? Are you keeping my secret and helping me, or are you and the viscount going to be found dead in each other’s arms in the morning by the Duke of Ravenport when he wanders into the wrong guest room?”
Thomas considered his options.
True, the duke had just killed a man, but it wasn’t like he’d killed him on a whim. It was to keep the king safe, and that made it acceptable. Thomas himself was prepared to take lives in his service to the crown. It was part of the job, and Thomas understood the weight of an oath to protect the king. Really, there was only one possible answer. “I’m helping you.” After a moment’s thought, he added, “If only so people don’t think I slept with that overbearing oaf.”
Evan’s laugh was warm and rich and nothing at all like his usual mindless tittering. “I knew I could trust you to make the right choice.” He released Thomas’s arm from where it was held up his back and the point of the knife disappeared from his ribs.
When Thomas spun around, Evan was crouched over the corpse, uncurling the viscount’s tightly clenched fist. He prised the man’s fingers open and plucked a small vial from his palm, holding it up. “Hemlock. Meant for one of the royal family, but he wouldn’t say who and refused to tell me who sent him. I’d like to think I could have got him to talk, but he was being remarkably stubborn about it. Said he’d die before revealing his secrets.”
“Well, he wasn’t wrong,” Thomas said before he could stop himself.
Evan let out a startled laugh, but then his expression turned serious as he stood. “It’s funny because it’s true, but it also leaves us at a dead end.”
Thomas blinked, unsure if he’d heard what he thought he’d heard. “ Us ?”
“You just said you’d help me, so yes. Us.”
“I thought you meant disposing of the body!” Thomas’s heart thumped against his ribs as just for a moment, something close to panic washed over him. But he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths and reminded himself that as the Captain of the Royal Guard, he’d been hired for exactly this.
Whatever this was.
Evan shoved the very dead viscount with his boot. “We do need to shift him, but I also thought we could work together and figure out who’s behind this before another bloody assassin turns up. You’re observant, and you’re smarter than people give you credit for. Besides, nobody gives the staff a second look. So really, you’re perfectly placed to poke around a bit and find things out. Or you can be my cover story while I look around. Think about it. The duke’s where he isn’t meant to be again, but it’s all right. The captain is keeping an eye on him.”
He flashed Thomas a brilliant smile and his eyes sparkled. It made desire surge inside of Thomas, hot and molten and startling. He told himself that now was not the time to think about how much more attractive Evan was when he was clever and confident instead of acting like a tipsy fool.
Sadly, telling himself now wasn’t the time didn’t make Evan any less attractive. And it didn’t help that Evan’s logic was flawless. People would assume Thomas was there to keep an eye on the errant royal, and because he was always around, they’d also promptly forget they’d seen him. There were times when he got tired of standing in the corner of the room like part of the furniture, but he could see how in this instance, his constant presence in the background could work to his advantage.
Their advantage, since apparently he and the duke were now partners.
“Fine, but you’ll have to teach me the basics of spying.”
Evan’s face split into an easy grin, and the heat in Thomas’s belly flared again. “Oh, that’s easy. Just act like you’re meant to be there.”
“Where?”
“Wherever it is that you’re not meant to be. Now, what about the back stairs to the guest wing?”
“What about them?”
Evan rolled his eyes. “For the viscount to fall down and break his neck, obviously.”
“That’s quite brilliant,” Thomas said, his admiration for the duke growing. “They’re known to be tricky.”
The staircase was close by, but it was also mostly deserted due to the stone steps being narrow and set at an awkward angle. It was handy for when someone didn’t want their comings and goings to be seen, though, so it was feasible that the viscount would be using it.
“I thought so, yes,” Evan said, rolling his shoulders before crouching and grabbing an ankle and starting to drag the viscount towards the door. “We can prop him up between us so it looks like he’s in his cups and carry him that way.”
“Or,” Thomas said, “I could check if there’s anyone about.” He ducked out the door and strode along the passageway at an unhurried pace, just as he would if he was doing his regular patrol, his footsteps echoing through the silence. He turned left, then left again, and then right, until he could see the staircase in question.
There was nobody in sight.
He walked casually back to the viscount’s room, where he found Evan sitting on the side of the bed, his ankles crossed as he leaned back on his elbows. It showed off the lean length of his body, and it was incredibly distracting. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that instead of his normal bright colours, Evan was clothed from head to foot in black and the fabric of his clothing was clinging to him in a way that was guaranteed to set Thomas’s pulse racing. “There’s nobody about,” Thomas said, averting his gaze. This was not the time to be thinking about the duke’s narrow hips or finely shaped calves. He bent and scooped the cooling corpse into his arms, which was an excellent way to kill the flare of lust in his belly.
The body was—quite literally—a dead weight, but Thomas was able to lift it without any trouble, and he didn’t miss the way Evan’s gaze lingered on his straining biceps.
It occurred to him that perhaps Evan had posed on the bed like that deliberately. For the first time, Thomas considered that maybe the attraction he felt went both ways.
He shoved the thought aside as something to ponder when he wasn’t carrying a dead man, and strode toward the door.
They made their way to the top of the staircase without being seen and once there, Evan said, “We’ll carry him down to the first landing. It’s important that we arrange the body so it seems like he fell. Otherwise it will look suspicious.”
Thomas eyed the treacherous staircase. “Or I could just do this.”
He hoisted the viscount up in his arms and threw him down the stairs.
He winced as the crack of a skull on stone steps rang out, followed by a series of meaty thuds as the body tumbled downward, gathering speed as it raced toward the first landing. Thomas expected it to stop there, but the force of his initial throw meant it rolled merrily over the smooth patch of stone and careened halfway down the next set of steps before coming to rest with one arm at a peculiar angle. The viscount’s head lolled to one side, and sightless eyes stared up at the ceiling.
He looked exactly like a man who’d fallen down the stairs.
Evan cleared his throat. “Well, yes, that’s one way to do it.”
He turned and headed back towards the guest wing, his steps rapid, and Thomas hurried to catch up. “Wait, are we just leaving him there?”
“Obviously. This is the perfect chance to look around his room for anything that might tell us who he’s working for.”
Well, that made sense, but Thomas still felt a lingering sense of guilt. “But we’re not leaving him there for too long? I don’t want one of the maids stumbling on the body.”
Evan turned the door handle of the viscount’s chambers. “Trust me. I’ve done this before.”
They stepped inside and Evan wasted no time, lighting a lantern and tipping the contents of the viscount’s trunk out onto the bed. He went through all the pockets of his clothing with a quiet efficiency, and in the inside pocket of the man’s coat he found a square of parchment folded over into tight squares. Unfolding the paper, he held it up to the light. Thomas leaned over his shoulder to get a better look and snorted.
It appeared to be a crudely drawn rendering of a cock and a pair of oversized balls, similar to the scribblings the younger guards sometimes did when they were bored. It was decorated with little pairs of circles around the edges where whoever drew it had been doodling.
“Good to see the viscount was paying attention in all those meetings,” Evan said. “Doesn’t help us, though.” His brow furrowed. “Damn. I never checked the pockets of his robe before you threw him down the stairs.”
A flash of memory came to Thomas then, of the day Evan had swanned down the passageway wearing a coat belonging to the Earl of Aramanthe. That hadn’t been the first time he’d seen the duke in someone else’s jacket either. Another penny dropped. “Wait, is that why you’re always taking people’s clothing?”
Evan turned to face him and raised an eyebrow. “You’re really not just a pretty face, are you? Smart and handsome. How is it that you’re single, Thomas?”
He blinked. Was Evan flirting with him? Heat rose in his cheeks, and he did his best to ignore it.
Evan’s smirk suggested he’d noticed, but he didn’t mention it. Instead, he said, “And in answer to your question, can you think of a better way to rifle through a man’s pockets?”
The lamplight flickered, casting shadows over his features, and Thomas was suddenly all too aware of how close they were standing and the elegant curve of Evan’s throat where he’d tilted his head back.
“Should we go back and check his pockets now?” Thomas asked, stepping back and fixing his gaze on the wall in an effort not to be distracted by the very pretty man in front of him.
“Oh, I’ll do it when I go back and discover the body,” Evan said. “I don’t know why all these idiots think the best place to store their secrets is in their coat pockets, but that’s invariably where I find them.”
“Perhaps they think that keeping them on hand is safest, and they aren’t taking jacket-stealing scoundrels into account?” Thomas suggested.
“I suppose that does make sense,” Evan said. He looked at the paper in his hand again before slipping it into a pocket in the lining of his cloak.
“So what do we do now?” Thomas asked.
“I’ll have another look around in here while you keep watch, and then we both go back to bed. In an hour or so I’ll make a terrible discovery on the back stairs, and someone will come and fetch you,” Evan said.
Thomas nodded and headed for the door. Just as he went to open it, Evan said quietly, “And Thomas?”
He paused, his heart beating faster. Was Evan going to mention the simmering attraction between them? Perhaps he was going to suggest a tryst later. “Yes?”
“If you feel the urge to share that you know who I am, rest assured I won’t hesitate to kill you, and whoever you’ve told as well.”
Or not.
T homas was shocked at how easily people accepted the lie that the Viscount of Calthrope had slipped and fallen to his death. Of course, the story was greatly helped along by the absolute hysterics Evan pitched.
Thomas could only stare in admiration as Evan wrung his hands together, moaning and wailing to anyone who would listen about how he might never recover from the shock of finding one of his dearest new friends dead on the staircase and wasn’t anybody going to fetch him a large brandy?
The remaining guests had gathered at the top of the stairs and were staring wide-eyed as the body was carried away to wherever bodies went—Thomas didn’t know, and didn’t care to find out. Since they had a convenient audience, Thomas cleared his throat and said, “I’m sorry to ask, Your Grace, but did you notice anything suspicious about the viscount’s death? Only, we’ll need to investigate.”
Evan turned to face him, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief he’d produced from his pocket. “I don’t think so,” he said. “To be fair I didn’t look very closely, what with all the blood from where he hit his poor head. But I don’t think Stephen would have been involved in anything unsavoury. He was mainly interested in wine.” His brow creased. “Perhaps it was the wine that caused him to take a tumble.”
“Possibly, Your Grace,” Thomas said. “He did like a drink.”
“That’s why we were friends,” Evan said with a nod. “Man after my own heart.” He stumbled slightly and steadied himself by clutching at Thomas’s sleeve. “I need to sit down. Perhaps you’d like to escort me to my chambers, Captain?”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
Evan leaned against his side and Thomas placed a careful arm around his shoulders as they walked slowly away from the staircase, and it seemed to act as a signal for the rest of the onlookers to disperse. Once they were inside Evan’s chambers, the duke straightened up and ran a hand over his jaw. “Right. Obviously, the ambassador for Falsmark is involved.”
“The ambassador for Falsmark is fifty if he’s a day!”
“And yet he was fully dressed in the middle of the night. Doesn’t that strike you as odd? I mean, most of the lookie-loos were yawning in their nightclothes, but this man was wide awake and dressed. I say he was up to no good.”
“You’re usually fully dressed at night,” Thomas stated.
“And I’m usually up to no good.”
“You make a fair point,” Thomas said, “but I don’t think it’s reason enough to start pointing fingers at the ambassador.”
“No, but it’s something, which is more than we had before.” He strode across the room and flung himself into the armchair next to the fireplace, hooking one long leg over the arm and sprawling sideways. “I need to think about this for a bit. And you need to sleep.”
“I’m fine,” Thomas protested, but his body chose that moment to make a liar out of him as an enormous yawn escaped. He placed his hands in the small of his back and arched backward to combat the stiffness there, fighting another yawn as a heavy cloak of weariness wrapped itself around him. So far this evening he’d witnessed an assassination, been drawn into a spy plot, been threatened with his own murder, and had to deal with the same dead body twice. It was starting to take its toll. But as tired as he was, the night wasn’t over yet. “What will you tell Their Majesties?” he asked, hoping they weren’t expected to have a meeting with the king at this late hour.
Evan let out a yawn of his own. “I’ll tell them nothing tonight. It’s too bloody late. Tomorrow I’ll meet with them and tell them that we’ve dealt with a potential assassin, that you’re assisting me, and that we have it all in hand.”
“But we don’t have it all in hand. We don’t have anything in hand!”
Impossibly, Evan grinned. “You forget that I’ve been doing this for a long time, and I’m very, very good at it. Go and get some sleep, and by the time I talk to Leo and Felix tomorrow, I’ll have more of an idea who’s behind this.”
And the thing was, despite all evidence to the contrary, Thomas believed him. After all, Evan Devere was the Rogue, and according to the stories Thomas had heard, he’d never failed yet.
Thomas just hoped the stories were true.