Chapter 10
Ten
It was a glorious day, by far the most joyful occasion Yves could remember.
Every one of his fears that police would arrive to arrest him, and Howard, had proved to be utterly unfounded.
Part of him felt deeply ashamed for allowing his fear to keep him from the people who loved him and whom he loved for so long.
“Do not feel foolish for one second, my darling brother,” Yvette told him as he and Howard donned their coats and scarves in preparation to leave.
“It was Guillame. This entire time, it was Guillame who posed the threat to you. He has not been gone more than a fortnight. You could not have rejoined us any sooner than that.”
“Thank you, Yvette,” Yves said, hugging his sister tightly, regardless of whether it was unmanly for him to do that, now that they were both grown.
“I am so happy you have found Mr. Bradford,” Yvette whispered in his ear while they still embraced. “But have a care for him. I believe his heart has been more bruised by this day than he is letting on.”
Yves pulled back from his sister and gave her a curious look. Howard was saying his goodbyes to Cavanaugh, so when Yves studied him anxiously, he did not see it. “I will help him if I can,” he said to his sister in a quiet voice.
The goodbyes took some time to say. Throughout the day, the boys, both Yvette’s and Charlotte’s, had warmed up to Yves considerably, and they were sad to see their new favorite uncle go. Yves hugged and kissed them all and promised he would return as soon as he could.
Because Ben had merely dropped them off in Fulham but did not stay to wait all day on Christmas for them to be finished with their festivities, Yves and Howard had to walk back toward Hyde Park until they were able to find and secure a hired hack.
It gave them some time to talk together in the festive dark of the end of Christmas Day.
“Your family is quite wonderful,” Howard said, hunkering into the new muffler Charlotte had given him.
“I had forgotten how much,” Yves said, smiling inside his own muffler, which had also been a gift from Charlotte and the boys.
It had likely belonged to Guillame, but it seemed very little used and did not smell of his brother, so Yves was happy with it.
“Regardless of Yvette’s warmth and forgiveness, I am ashamed of how long I kept myself separated from such lovely people. ”
Howard glanced at him as a few, fluttering flakes of snow began to fall. “She was right about you not blaming yourself,” he said. “The danger to men like us is real, particularly when one has a brother such as you did.”
Yves hummed and nodded, but he wasn’t certain he could be as forgiving of himself.
They walked for a bit longer before Howard said, “I suppose you will take Cavanaugh up on his offer of opening a second green grocer under his auspices.”
Yves’ brow shot up in surprise as he glanced to his lover. “Why would I do that?”
Howard looked as surprised as he felt. “It is a capital offer,” he said. “Your brother-in-law seems quite prosperous. It would be a boon to work under his supervision.”
“But I know nothing about grocers or shops,” Yves said.
“I am quite certain Cavanaugh would be all too glad to instruct you in everything you might need to know,” Howard said.
“Perhaps,” Yves said.
It was not all he wanted to say, but they were lucky enough to happen upon a hack that was ready for hire, and considering how frozen Yves’ feet were beginning to feel, he was grateful for it.
The inside of the hack was warm and smelled of cinnamon and spices, as if its previous occupants had transported delicious baked goods to wherever they’d come from.
The lull in the conversation gave Yves far too much time to contemplate every potential meaning behind Howard’s words, however.
Was his savior suggesting he go work for Cavanaugh because it would be the distraction he needed to slip out of Yves’ life?
Did he care enough to see that Yves was provided for and had gainful employment, but not enough to stay with him?
After everything that had been said and felt earlier, was Howard done with him after all?
He hated the thought, but he could not stop himself from pondering it extensively as the hack rolled through the streets of London toward Park Lane. He had only just discovered Howard, and through him, rediscovered a part of himself. He did not want to lose any of that so soon.
By the time they reached The Chameleon Club, Yves’ anxiety had blossomed within him to the point where it was difficult to force himself to step out of the carriage and into the world where people might see him.
Howard noticed, of course, but he had to pay the driver and see the carriage on its way before he was able to address Yves about it.
“Has something gone wrong?” he asked, stepping up to Yves and resting a hand on the small of his back as they walked up to the club’s front door.
As was expected on a night when The Chameleon Club was hosting a Christmas ball, the night’s attendant opened the door as soon as they reached it, gesturing for them to come inside with a smile.
Yves used the fuss of going inside and peeling out of his winter things to delay answering Howard. He handed his coat, hat, gloves, and scarf off to one of the footmen, who would take it directly to his room, then stood back and watched as Howard did the same.
Yves could not help but smile. Howard was the handsomest man of his acquaintance, despite his white hair and beard. Perhaps because of it. Even if the time they spent together was about to come to some sort of end, Yves would always be glad he’d had these moments with a man as lovely as he was.
Once Howard had handed his winter things over to a footman, he offered his arm to Yves.
They were safe within the confines of the club, so Yves took it as though he were an affectionate debutante and allowed Howard to lead him down the hallway to the dining room, now arranged as a ballroom, where bright, festive music was playing and where the sound of men talking and laughing filled the air.
The Chameleon Club had outdone itself for the Christmas ball.
The ballroom was bright with the light of candles and tin lanterns that had been punctured to create patterns of stars and trees along the walls.
The greenery that Yves and Howard had helped to put up the other day was everywhere, glittering with red ribbons and shining baubles.
But it was the members of The Brotherhood in their holiday finery that truly made Yves smile.
They were all happy and relaxed, even the ones who danced the waltz together, holding each other close in a way they could never dare to in the world outside of the club.
A few had even donned gowns for the event and swirled around the ballroom with carefree joy.
“Home and hearth have their appeal, but I do so love the freedom and solidarity of The Brotherhood,” Yves commented with a happy sigh as he and Howard surveyed the scene.
Howard seemed surprised as he turned to look at Yves. “You would prefer a company such as this to that of your cozy loved ones?”
Yves had just spotted Bolingbroke and waved to him across the room. He felt the impact of Howard’s question a few beats late.
“Why would you ask that?” he asked, blinking at his savior.
Of all things, Howard looked flustered and boyish for a moment. “You seemed so happy in the Cavanaughs’ parlor,” he said. “You have been without the love of family for so long. I would understand entirely if you wished to choose them over…all this.”
The way Howard’s face flushed as he spoke had Yves’ heart beating faster, with astonishment as much as anything else.
“Did you think I would spend one day with my sister and her family and immediately decide I wanted nothing more to do with The Brotherhood and the one place in all of London where I actually feel safe?”
“Well, I…I did not know,” Howard said.
Yves’ heart flipped in his chest, and he was suddenly overcome with sentimentality. He would have expected a man like Howard to be filled with confidence at all times and in all things. It was an utter surprise to discover that he might not be.
In answer to the insecurity he suddenly felt from his lover, Yves smiled and offered his hand. “Would you care to dance?” he asked.
Howard grinned back at him and took his hand. “I would love to,” he said.
They walked out to the center of the room, where couples were swirling in three-quarter time under the flickering lights of Christmas.
Yves slipped gladly into Howard’s arms, perfectly content to allow him to lead, in the dance and in everything else, and they glided into the steps along with everyone else.
“Howard, you know that I adore you, do you not?” he asked once they had established enough of a rhythm that they no longer had to pay much attention to their steps.
“I…I did not wish to assume,” Howard said.
Yves laughed, squeezing Howard’s hand in his. “But of course I adore you,” he said. “You are so much braver and bolder than me. You are a man of the world and a man of experience.”
Of all things, Howard looked slightly cowed by those observations. “I understand,” he said. “I am too much for you at this time. You wish to have a quiet life, and I have disturbed that.”
Yves’ eyes widened, and he gaped at Howard.
“That is not what I mean at all,” he said.
Slowly, the things Yvette had said to him about Howard being bruised returned.
“I still want you, Howard,” he said. “Regardless of the return to my family or the change in my situation, I still want you very much.”
“You do?” Howard asked, hope causing him to look years younger than he was.
“Yes, of course,” Yves laughed. “You are Howard Bradford, perhaps the most sought-after member of The Brotherhood. How could I not want you?”