Chapter Twelve
Delauney drummed his hands on his thighs as he leaned against the carriage.
“It’s been a while,” he said.
“Can’t rush these things, Laney.” Ned stood upwind with his pipe, his jacket draped over one arm. “Even Peter hasn’t come back from the garden yet. He wanted to see the new wall of statues.”
“The new wall?” Delauney asked. “Leo’s giving them too much money for the estate.”
“Well, he isn’t officially the Marquis yet,” Ned pointed out. “He’s going a bit far by giving them an allowance in the first place.”
“Don’t tell them that.” Delauney pushed away from the carriage. “I’m going to look for him.”
“You won’t go far being possessive this early in your courtship, Laney,” Ned teased.
He paused, lowering his pipe, as a man emerged from the gardens.
His glossy curls were disheveled, his right sleeve was ripped, and there was a bruise forming on the exposed skin of his upper arm.
His eyes filled with tears when he saw Ned, and he raised a shaking hand to his hair.
“Peter.” Ned dropped the pipe in his rush to reach his husband. Peter stumbled into Ned’s arms, tears rolling down his cheeks.
“I tried to stop him, Ned,” Peter said.
“Stop who?” Ned pulled Peter closer to the carriage, out of sight of a gaggle of curious footmen. “What happened to you, Peter? Who hurt you?”
Peter’s gaze flicked to Delauney. “I saw Wes walking out of the ballroom with one of the gold cups from your parents’ table. I know he just wanted to get revenge for what they said about him and his brother, but I couldn’t just let him go. I didn’t... I didn’t think he’d strike me.”
“He couldn’t have,” Delauney said. He tried to wrap his mind around Peter’s words, but nothing connected. He couldn’t hold onto the idea of Wes stealing from his parents, let alone attacking Peter.
“Wes said he was going to speak to his brother,” Delauney said. “Are you sure he was stealing a cup, or just drinking out of one?”
“Maybe he was meeting his brother on the way,” Peter said. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The last time his hands had trembled like that, he’d just slapped Alain. Delauney tried to look into his eyes, but Peter’s gaze kept sliding away from him.
“What did you do, Peter?” Delauney asked.
“Delauney.” Ned’s voice was sharp. “I understand that you must be in shock at the moment, but my husband was just attacked.”
“Peter!” Footsteps pounded on the grass as Alain burst through a hedge, looking ragged and miserable. “Peter!”
Ned raised a hand as Alain raced toward them. “He’s all right, Alain.”
“No, he is not,” Alain said. “He wrote to the de Mazets when we reached the harbor. They had Wes taken—”
“Alain,” Peter said. The tremor in his hands was worse now, but he clasped them together when he saw Delauney watching. “Alain, don’t.”
“They conspired to have Wes taken by your parents’ guards,” Alain said, turning to Delauney. Delauney felt a cold chill run through him despite the warm evening air. “They expected Wes to come here, because Peter told them in advance. He didn’t like what Wes did to Captain Lennox.”
“What did Wes do to...” Ned’s voice broke as he realized what that meant. “He was the sailor who whipped Lennox? And you brought him onto our ship?”
“You know what Lennox is like,” Delauney snapped. “Where is he? Where did they take him?”
“Alain, no,” Peter cried.
“We are very cross with you,” Alain said, and there was a rumble in their voice that made Peter go dangerously pale. “All of us. They’re taking him to Lennox’s home in Duciel.”
Delauney cursed. He shot Peter a look that must have been truly terrifying, because Peter cringed back in Ned’s arms.
“He nearly killed Lennox,” Peter said. “And he told such terrible lies about him...”
“Lies?” Delauney asked. “Did Ned never tell you why I left Lennox’s crew?” Ned looked down, guilt in his eyes.
“Ned?” Peter asked, his voice faint.
“I didn’t want to sully your memory of him,” Ned said. Peter clutched his hair, tugging at his dark curls.
“You mean he actually... Wesley was right? He beat children?”
“I don’t have time for this,” Delauney said.
It felt cruel, since Peter was clearly falling apart under the weight of his actions, but it was true.
He didn’t have time to figure out why Peter cared about Lennox, or how long it would take for him to grapple with whatever internal war he was waging.
Delauney left Peter, Ned, and Alain without a word, striding into the ballroom.
He’d made it roughly ten paces across the floor before his father found him.
Delauney barely heard what he said, weaving around him on his way to where the king stood with a glass of lemonade, speaking softly to Sabre de Valois with Captain Ferrin at his back.
King Adrien smiled warmly at Delauney as he approached, but his expression froze as Delauney grabbed Sabre’s arm.
“Are you actually the king’s spymaster?” Delauney asked.
Sabre’s mouth fell open. Laurent de Rue, standing just behind him, smiled coldly.
“Don’t be foolish,” he said, a sharp, cutting dominance in his voice. “He’s my submissive, nothing more.”
Sabre blushed, but Delauney barreled through regardless, ignoring the way his skin prickled at the thought of displeasing a dominant.
“No, but really. Are you? Because I need you if you are. My parents just had Wesley taken to Captain Lennox’s home in Duciel, and I can’t ride a horse to save my life, let alone his.
So I’m hoping you have someone who can.”
Over Adrien’s shoulder, Ferrin went cold and still, a hand on his sword hilt.
“What?” Adrien looked almost disappointed. “I didn’t see that whatsoever.”
“You can’t see everything,” Sabre said. He glanced at Ferrin, all pretense of surprise gone.
Instead of the kind, easy-going man Delauney knew, he was faced with a curt, authoritative submissive with confidence in his tone.
“I have people in Lennox’s home. I might be able to reach them first if I leave now. ”
He bowed shortly to Adrien and turned on his heel.
“If we leave,” Laurent said, striding after him. “I’m not risking you injuring yourself on some hare-brained chase through the countryside.”
“It involves horses,” Sabre said. “And a great deal of mud.”
Laurent shuddered.
Delauney turned to look at Ferrin, who was speaking softly into the king’s ear.
“Absolutely not,” Adrien said. Ferrin scowled.
“If you’re going along, I can’t very well stay here.
Besides, a member of the gentry just tried to abduct one of my subjects under my nose.
Imagine how it will look if I don’t address this personally.
” He extended a hand to Delauney. “Would you like to join me in my carriage? We’ll probably miss all the fun, but at least we’ll get there in style. ”
“Watching me beat a man half to death won’t be particularly fun, your majesty,” Ferrin muttered.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Adrien said.
He glanced into his drink, raised his brows, and handed it to a passing nobleman.
The nobleman stared at it in confusion as Adrien took Delauney’s hand, tugging him toward the entrance.
“Come along, Delauney. You should be there when we find him. Oh, and Ferrin? Do send some of your people to escort the de Mazets to Duciel. Make sure it’s noticeable. ”
“Not Leo, please,” Delauney tried to say, but Adrien was already dragging him past the crowd of flabbergasted guests and into the drive, where Ned was helping Peter into their carriage.
Ned met Delauney’s gaze briefly, and Delauney realized with a pang of grief that if he spoke up about Peter to the king, it would mean the end of their relationship.
Ned must have realized it, too, because he nodded somberly as Delauney passed, pain clear on his lovely face.
“Of course we’re bringing your brother,” Adrien said, practically shoving Delauney into the royal carriage. “I have plans for him.”
Delauney didn’t think Leo would appreciate the king considering him more than was strictly necessary, but he supposed that his parents had ruined that.
He settled in the carriage next to the king.
The darkness of the carriage closed over him, finally giving him room to feel the panic threatening to fill his body like a fog.
He forced himself to breathe through it, hands clasped tightly in his lap.
The only thing stopping him from losing control was the thought of what Wes would say when he found out that Delauney had involved the king.
Wes hated using any connection to the nobility, and Delauney had gone straight to the most powerful nobles in Staria.
Not to mention Ferrin, who stood at the door of the carriage with the air of a walking storm cloud.
He directed guards to the outer benches and handholds of the carriage before regarding the king with his mouth pressed in a hard line.
“Wes makes that expression when he’s displeased,” Delauney said. At first, he thought he’d misspoken, but Ferrin met his gaze after a short silence. Delauney instinctively looked down.
“We’ll find him,” Ferrin said. He turned to address the king. “You’ll stay in the carriage when we arrive, your majesty. There could be a fight.”
“Yes, very exciting.” Adrien crossed his legs, leaning back against the carriage cushions. “Don’t look so glum, both of you. No one will be hurt tonight, I promise.”
Ferrin looked so much like Wes at his most contrary that Delauney would have laughed if he had the heart for it. When Ferrin spoke, his voice was so low that only Delauney could hear him.
“I wouldn’t be so certain about that.”
He pushed away from the carriage, and as the guards moved into position and the carriage slowly started rolling, Delauney watched Ferrin unhitch a horse from a post and climb onto it without a saddle. He urged it ahead of them and onto the dark, quiet road.
“Was that technically theft?” Delauney asked, leaning to get a better view of Ferrin’s retreating back.