Three Nights with a Scoundrel (Stud Club #3)(100)

Back in the coach, Julian pushed back the drapes from the window glass to let in as much light as possible. He and Lily situated themselves at opposite ends of the front-facing seat, and Faraday sat across from them. In this manner, they formed a triangle, so as best to facilitate conversation.

“So if you rode out here on horseback,” Julian began, “you must not have been so gravely injured.”

Faraday replied, “I was gravely injured indeed. No deceit there. But I worked hard to recover from my wounds. I was determined to regain my strength.”

“But you led us to believe you were still an invalid.”

“I was planning to return to London anyway. When your friend Ashworth showed up in Cornwall, I reckoned I might as well ride with him.”

“And stay at Morland’s house?”

Faraday shrugged. “There’s been some curiosity about the duke amongst my superiors. He wasn’t raised on English soil, you know, and he’s always been a recluse. I couldn’t pass up the chance to stay in his house. If I’d uncovered something shocking, it surely would have meant a promotion.” He sighed. “As it turns out, Morland is the furthest thing from shocking. He’s rather a bore, and quaintly devoted to his wife. Now his ward, on the other hand … she is interesting.”

“Can we please go back,” Lily said, “and begin at the beginning? I want to understand what happened.”

“The beginning.” Faraday rested his head against the tufted seatback and sighed. “Yes. The beginning was lovely.”

“How did you meet?” she asked.

“The club, of course. Back during the war, I was given interesting assignments. Lately, it’s all stuff and nonsense. What’s this ‘Stud Club’ about, my superiors wanted to know. An elite membership, open to anyone with luck? It sounded suspicious to them. They thought there must be something more behind it. So I won a token, gained entrée to the club. And I learned there was nothing behind it, except the best, most kindhearted man I’ve ever known. Divinely handsome, to boot.”

Julian glanced at his wife, amazed by how she was taking this all in stride. His own thoughts were still cycling through a sequence that went much like this: Leo, a molly? No. Surely not. But it must be. Lily says it’s so. Truly, though. Leo?

So shocking, this new intimation of his friend’s private life. He didn’t want to let it change his high opinion of Leo, but Julian couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever truly known the man.

“Did you know?” he asked Lily. “Of Leo’s …?” God, he couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“That he preferred men to women, romantically? Yes, I’ve known since we were youths. We never really discussed it, but he was my twin brother. How could I fail to notice something like that? I wish I’d been brave enough to talk to him. I … I just had no idea what to say.”

“He struggled with it, too,” Faraday said. “Living outside the rules comes easily to a man like me. But it didn’t come as easily to Leo. He was a very honest, loyal sort.”

“I worried about him so,” Lily said. “Always surrounded by friends, but isolated at the same time.” She looked to Julian. “For the longest time, I thought you must know. You didn’t even suspect?”

“No,” Julian answered numbly. No, he hadn’t. He’d been too busy guarding his own secrets to wonder about Leo’s. But he understood well the strain of presenting one face to the world while living a different life entirely. Under that burden, Julian had grown bitter and vengeful. But Leo was a better man than he. Perhaps this explained his friend’s endless quest to make everyone around him feel accepted and at ease.

His hands clenched in useless fists. He wanted to go drag the river for Stone and Macleod’s corpses, revive them, then kill them all over again.

“Let me guess,” Lily said to Faraday. “It started more than two summers ago. That’s where Leo was that July. With you, not his Eton classmates.”

Faraday nodded in confirmation. “He hated lying to you, but it seemed the only prudent course. We went to—”

“Cornwall,” Julian finished, finally piecing it together. “That house. You said you’d spent a pleasant holiday there once. With a … with a blond.” And he’d never said that blond was a woman. Faraday had just let them assume.

“Very sharp, Mr. Bellamy. High marks to you. After Leo’s death, I returned there to convalesce. And to grieve. My bones healed faster than my heart, as it happened.” His eyes slid to the window. “That particular organ is still not all of a piece.”

“But the letters,” Lily said. “They made it sound as though you’d ended it.”

“Leo ended it. Last spring.”

“Did you have a falling-out?”

“No. Not exactly.” He tossed his hat aside and pushed a hand through his hair. “He’d learned the truth of my … profession, as it were. Leo was always scrupulous about discretion. He wanted to protect you from scandal, Lily, and he was doubly concerned about exposing you to danger. Too ironic, in the end.”

“So the attack in Whitechapel was related to your profession?” Julian asked. “Enemies of yours?”

Faraday shook his head. “No. Nothing so logical as that. Stone and Macleod were just a pair of bloodthirsty brutes, riled up on liquor and violence after the boxing match. They weren’t out to get me specifically, nor Leo, nor you. They were just bullies looking for amusement, and they found it. It’s a time-honored pastime, roughing up the mollies.”