Page 34 of Rears & Vices

That gave Everard a happy thrill. The truth.

“And so Varfolomey…” he prompted.

“Is my grandfather’s name. Also was Russian.”

“I gathered,” Everard said dryly. “And so has everyone else—I suppose that’s the idea? Russians are goddamned vicious sailors, I’ll give you that.”

Vitaliy smiled. “And there are almost none of them in America.”

“But we have—the English, I mean—the Royal Navy—I trained a company or two of Russians. They’ve been allies once or twice. Is that not also too close an association?”

“Mm,” Vitaliy agreed. “Yes, you are seeing my predicament. And now”—he pointed to Everard—“three Englishmen have saved me. The Navy let me run. How does it look? It looks like I am now the Crown’s.”

“Let you?” Everard gestured round the coffeehouse. “You haven’t even run yet!”

Vitaliy ignored this. “But you see that they will not attribute it to my especial skill in escaping fetters.”

“They’ll credit me, the supposed bribee.”

“The supposed bribee, who is following lead from the admiralty, maybe.”

“That is bloody absurd.” Everard laughed bitterly. “The admiralty were going to arrest me! Is this the whole problem, my being English? Is that why you were so angry at me, pulling you from that hold? I saved your life, maybe, but also wrecked your legacy? Well, I’m sorry I am who I am, but there’s nothing I can do about having been in the service. I may forge evidence, create it out of almost nothing, but it doesn’t go the other way. I can’t erase myself and my record from existence.”

Vitaliy leaned in close, so that the stream of sunlight fell over him in profile. His eyes were lit into turquoise ocean, his hair ignited into gold.

“Do not never be sorry for who you are,” he said fiercely. “I am not angry at you for being Navy. To be upset at that thing would make me… a hypocrite. Especially since you gave that thing away for me, my life.”

Everard was stunned. “All right,” he agreed. “I shan’t, then.”

Satisfied again, Vitaliy sat back. “You forged evidence, too?” he asked, after a moment.

Vitaliy really hadn’t gone through his trunk. If he had, he’d have seen C’s letters.

“I did,” Everard said. “That was my plan when I thought you were innocent—not a pirate. Before it all went to shit and murder. I’d kept a few letters from an old acquaintance whose hand I know quite well… it was a matter of hours to forge more.”

Vitaliy looked even more resolved. Towards what, Everard was becoming increasingly curious.

“Look here,” Vitaliy said. “Your being Navy is only a… complication. A fact. But it still may ruin my reputation… if we do not make it popular that your motivation for saving me was something else than money, or king and country.”

“Oh, well, good,” Everard said, sarcastically. He crossed his arms. “I hope you’ve remembered that I am not at all motivated by such things as sentiment, nor nights shared.”

Vitaliy laughed. “No, no—you’ve guessed it! That is my solution. If you will agree to it.” He grinned, and three years were gone, disappeared.

“Er… what? What do you mean?”

“It is perfect,” Vitaliy said. “It suits both our needs. You do not want to be left behind, and I cannot be known as in bed with the English.”

In the corner of Everard’s vision, Vitaliy’s right hand reappeared from beneath the table, came close to his own. He tapped something solid-sounding onto the table.

“Unless actually in bed. With one Englishman.”

“I’m not really…” Everard looked down. Between his thumb and forefinger, Vitaliy held⁠—

“What?” Everard exclaimed.

—a wide golden band of a ring.

“Yes,” Vitaliy said seriously. “Everard, marry me.”