Infernal Vices (Resurrectionist #3)

CHAPTER 6

THE SCOOP

When I finally arrived at my place of business Annie stood up abruptly from her desk with a harried, concerned look on her face and waited anxiously for me as I unbuttoned my greatcoat.

“Apologies for my lateness, it has been the most frightful morning,” I informed, as she took my hat, cane and greatcoat from me. Annie knew about the burglary from the notes I’d sent her earlier, and no doubt, if the newspapers had gotten hold of the story, the whole of London would know about it soon.

“Oh sir, it’s the most frightful news. There have been many, many telegrams, sir. I’ve put them with the letters on your desk.” She paused and chewed on her lower lip, appearing worried.

“There’s also a guest waiting in your office,” she admitted nervously.

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. “You know well and good that I don’t permit visitors to be left alone in my office!” I reprimanded.

“Yes sir, sorry sir. I do beg your pardon, but the gentleman said he’s your dearest friend and he was assured you would be coming up the rear, right behind him,” Annie said with sincere innocence. “He was correct sir. The gentleman has only been alone for a minute.”

The man said I would be coming up the rear, aye! I wondered if Sebastian was japing. Would he visit me at my place of work, and so soon after we had parted? That pleasant thought made butterflies in my chest take flight. Or was Lawrence Blake waiting to speak with me again? The butterflies plummeted like hailstones. Blake was the last person I wanted to see today! Whoever it was, I would not encourage any more distractions or leave him alone in my office for a moment longer.

I strode down the hall and paused at the threshold to my office seeing not Blake or Sebastian, but the sturdy bulk of Charles Ashe standing at the mantle. He was warming his hands at the gas fire and looking at the silver framed photograph of my long-passed parents I displayed there.

“Uh, hmm,” I coughed. Ashe turned from the flames, his handsome visage beamed at seeing me. The younger man was broad of shoulder, much like a Rugby player, yet his waist was svelte. He wore a thick, waxed chestnut brown moustache. His wavy, tousled hair was close cut to the nape and parted to the left with a rebellious curl over his brow which he seemed to brush away as an affectation. The suit he wore was the finest of tailoring, made of heather hued tweed. His complexion was usually apricot, but now his cheeks were ruddy. Had he been standing too close to the fire, or had the fellow jogged to my establishment? Oh dear, I knew exactly the reason why he would rush to my side! The predatory, unabashedly sexual way Ashe looked at me always made me feel deeply self-conscious. It was as if he wanted to eat me up! And I suppose, after the events of the thwarted initiation ritual, he’d already made it abundantly clear that he did! Again, I was struck by the lasciviousness of his gaze and felt rather awkward as he observed me with heavy-lidded chocolate brown eyes, artist’s eyes, tracing my features to imprint into his memory. If he looked at me like this in public there would be no doubt that he was a sodomite.

“Ah, the man of the hour! Forgive the intrusion but I was most eager to parlay with you,” Ashe brightened as he strode across the room to meet me. He gripped my biceps with his strong, capable hands, pulling me in for an embrace. “Bless-ed is the seed,” he whispered at my ear then pulled back and arched his brows waiting for my rote response. I kept my hands clasped behind my back, my stance rigid.

“Ah, yes, Bless-ed is the seed,” I responded stiffly.

He must have experienced alarm in my rigid countenance because on meeting my gaze he loosened his grip and instead caressed up and down the arms of my navy frock coat, petting me in a gentling fashion. His skin was not pressed to mine, but still, I was distressed by the unsolicited intimacy of the gesture. Did he think we were on those terms because he’d seen me in a state of undress at the thwarted ritual?

“Are you alright, old man? You’re trembling?”

“I understood from Brother Blake that, in the circumstances, it would be best for all concerned to cease contact,” I said, confused. “He explained that just the other day when he and Benjamin came for tea. He directed that after the explosion at Exeter Hall we must protect one another’s interests and regroup when the dust settles and a new meeting location has been decided.”

“Indeed, indeed, but I heard on the grapevine what happened to you this morning. I could not leave a brother to deal with such a burden alone,” Ashe explained sympathetically. “It must have been the most dreadful shock.” He paused for a moment, and then almost shyly asked,

“Did you perchance, see him?” he wheedled. “What did he take? What did Scotland Yard say about the investigation?” The questions barrelled through Ashe’s pretty, moustache framed lips .

“I beg your pardon?” I exclaimed in faux confusion as I stepped away from his burning touch to take a seat behind my desk, ensuring I was out of the reach of his roving hands.

“The Dandy Rogue, the robbery! Did you not know? The story will make the nationals, afternoon edition!” he relayed excitedly.

“Oh dear!” I groaned and rubbed a hand across my mouth with worry. Now I understood why he was here.

I leaned back in my leather chair and rubbed at my temples. The damnable headache from earlier was coming back! I did not court attention, I did not want to be the subject of society chatter, and this burglary would bring the worst kind of attention to my home and business.

“According to Ardmillan this Dandy Rogue is the very thief who half-inched our magical prick. We cannot complete the great work without it.” Ashe surmised.

I could see by the desire and excitement on Charles Ashe’s face that, just like Detective Inspector Dancer, he was thirsty to get a lead on the identity of the Dandy Rogue. I picked up the first telegram on the stack of correspondence, opened it, and saw it was from the London Standard newspaper who wished to arrange an appointment to interview me about the robbery. The next telegram was from The Times, then the Westminster Gazette. There were ten telegrams and each wanted the same thing.

“Ahh, the dogs are on your scent,” Ashe chuckled as he came to my side and uninvited, picked up one of the telegrams and read it.

“But I’m sure that, as my bless-ed brother, you will of course allow me an exclusive insight into what occurred…for the Illustrated Police News.” He laid a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. I looked up and saw how he grinned oh-so confidently. I knew then that I was in a bind. I wanted nothing from Ashe whereas he wanted more than I was prepared to give. Alas, I had no choice but to be cordial and forthcoming with him. I was required to help my brother, as he was required to help me.

“It has been quite a trying morning, Mr. Ashe,” I stuttered.

“Benedict!” Ashe sighed reproachfully, “I thought we’d done away with such formalities,” he licked his lips and held my eye contact. My skin heated and my cheeks flushed. I could not say a word that would upset a member of the cabal and cause suspicion of my loyalty. This was interminable! I was sure now that I would be required to bow to all requests the brothers had of me. I was under the thumb and I didn’t like it, not one bit.

“What can I do for you…Charles?” I drawled resignedly.

“You can offer me a bally drink for a start!” he guffawed. “It’s freezing outside and a man could die of thirst, you know!”

“Very well. Forgive me, I need to deal with this blasted headache first or I’ll get nothing done today,” I grumbled. I opened my desk drawer and retrieved the small green bottle of Laudanum I kept in there.

“Brandy would be welcome to warm the cock … les , but I’ll pass on the Laudanum!” he grinned boyishly.

I stood; grateful to have something to do that would remove me from his grasping hands. He seemed to reach out and touch me without thought, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. But it was only with one man such touches felt appropriate.

I moved to my credenza and poured two tumblers of Napoleon Brandy. My eyesight blurred a little. I put the bottle down and steadied myself, fingers gripping the dark timber sideboard. I rubbed my temples again before I collected my wits and added ten drops of Laudanum to my brandy. I turned to see Ashe slouched on my couch as if he were attending a bohemian soirée.

I collected the drinks and carried them to my seating area, then passed a glass to Ashe before easing myself in the armchair to his right. I took a swallow welcoming the taste of candied fruits and spice that disguised the bitterness of the Laudanum. As the liquor and pain reliever rested in my stomach I felt warmth radiate and flow into my blood. Finally I began to relax, my limbs easing into the comfort of my armchair. I looked up from my glass to see Ashe was watching me, a mixture of humour and lust in his eyes.

“Well…” he said seductively as he took a sip of brandy and licked his lips. I spoke again to cut off his train of thought, “Before you ask, no, I did not see the thief!”

Ashe sat up like a spotter dog, alert and keen. “Damn your eyes!” he harrumphed. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. I’ll tell you exactly the same as I told the Old Bill. I was in bed when the theft occurred. My valet, Mr. Troy saw the blaggard escaping through a rear window into the garden but he didn’t see his face. I have no idea what the reprobate looks like.”

Ashe absently twirled the ends of his waxed moustache, “Damn it. This is most vexing.”

“Indeed. Now what can I do for you Charles? Forgive my impertinence but I’ve already lost the morning to this debacle and I need to inspect a delivery of paintings that has just arrived on a ship from the continent. ”

“Very well, I won’t beat around the bush. My editor would be delighted if our publication was center stage in the revelation of the facts of this most exciting story. Could I call on you at home later this afternoon? I wish to interview the member of your household who saw the thief, get a first-hand account, and draw the scene of the robbery from life.”

I put my tumbler on the side table, steepled my fingers, and took the pose of a man deep in thought. I did not want Ashe in my house, nor did I want him speaking to my servants without my presence.

Ashe continued without waiting for my acquiescence. “My editor wants an exclusive for the Friday edition, so you mustn’t speak to anyone else from the press about this!”

I knew that journalists were an underhand lot and would pinch Ashe’s words for their own articles. Maybe then they would leave me alone.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I said haltingly.

“Why ever not? Do you not trust me, brother?”

“Of course I trust you,” I lied. God forgive me, but the lies now fell from my lips as easy as my next breath.

“So give me the story,” Ashe sat forward and faced me, beseeching, “Allow me to do a piece for The Illustrated Police News. I will ensure that the truth will out. If you speak to any of the other chaunter-coves they’ll twist your words and make you a laughing stock.”

“And you won’t?”

“No, brother, of course I won’t.” he sounded a tad wounded and slumped back into the couch, winded.

“I promise. I’ll endeavour to paint a picture of truth with my words and illustrations. I’ll tell the readers that a rogue broke into the house of a true gentleman, and a devilishly handsome one at that!”

I glared at him, unimpressed by his attempt at flattery.

“—a pillar of society, a kind, and charitable man,” he continued. “You are a victim, my dear friend. You deserve nothing but sympathy and justice.” Ashe narrated this speech as if he were a politician, then he paused before asking, “So. What exactly did he steal?”

I remained silent for a moment as the Laudanum continued to work its magic, untangling the knots in my mind. “My silver collection,” I admitted finally. “All items were small enough to be pocketed. Vesta cases, stamp boxes—he even stole the exquisite silver fish spice box I purchased from Brother Lawrence just last week.”

Ashe sat up then and looked at me quizzically.

“A fish shaped spice box?”

“Yes, Dutch silver, ruby eyes, it was the new prize of my collection. Lawrence asked me to auction a group of silver items that his followers gifted to the cause, but I purchased the pieces for my collection instead,” I explained.

“Is that so?” Ashe said in a slow, perplexed tone. He stared at me for a moment too long, then tossed back the tumbler and drained it. I got the distinct impression I’d just said something wrong.

“What else did you purchase from him?”

“A monogrammed silver stamp case, the fish shaped spice box and a snuff box.”

Ashe’s eyes narrowed and if I wasn’t mistaken, he was unhappy at hearing this. I waited on his response for a long moment before he said,

“How very beastly that they were stolen from you not a week after purchase.” If I wasn’t mistaken there was a tone of suspicion as Ashe said that.

“Indeed, it’s the damndest luck. I’m hoping the police can locate at least some of the items. I have photographs of everything that was stolen.”

“You do!”

“Indeed. I employ a photographer here and he ensures my insurance agent receives photographs of all items that pass through my auction house.”

“You are most wise, dear man. So, back to business. Do we have an agreement? May I call on you this afternoon?”

“Fine,” I agreed resignedly, “I’ll be home just after five o’clock.”