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“Fascinating. Are they so very different from you and me?”
“Not at all. It’s a common misconception that one might know a criminal just by looking at them, but that is simply not the case. Criminality is as complicated as each individual. There are those who commit crimes out of necessity—thieves trying to feed their families, for example—and those who commit crimes for enjoyment. The latter is the most dangerous and often hides in plain sight. The most vicious of killers can appear like you or me. In fact, they can be very compelling, even seductive.”
“That’s a sobering thought, and not one I’d like to dwell on, considering recent events.” Rochefort brightened at the sight of a lamp above a doorway. “Here we are.” He gave the door a knock, and as it opened from the inside, all manner of laughter and chatter rolled out onto the street.
A gentlemen’s club. I hadn’t known Minerva had them. But I’d left as a poor boy and returned as a working gentleman who walked with a lord without raising any eyebrows. There was likely a whole other class to Minerva I hadn’t known existed and certainly never would have seen before now.
Cigarette smoke fogged the air. Someone played a jolly tune on a piano. Drinks were served here too, by men and women not much younger than me. It all appeared to be above board, with no scantily clad servers to be seen.
Rochefort procured us drinks from a tray and introduced me to a circle of male acquaintances, all of whom were dressed for the evening, whereas I still wore my day suit. Although, they didn’t seem to care. Rochefort’s company likely bought me some social leniency.
The drinks flowed, as did talk of banks and investments, land and taxes. Things I knew too little about to truly be invested in, but I could hold my own. Then talk turned to murder, and Rochefort—who had asked me to call him Thomas, which I’d smiled at and continued to call him Lord Rochefort—told the crowd, with great glee, how I regularly conversed with the ill-minded. Was I a doctor? Of sorts. Who was the most fiendish person I’d studied, what were their crimes, and on it went, until I’d drunk too much and talked too much, and realized Thomas’s hand had been on my hip for longer than was socially acceptable. Nobody had noticed, but they would. That was not a mistake I wanted to bring with me back to Minerva.
I discreetly removed the man’s hand. Hopefully that was all the hint he’d need.
Activity at the club wound down after 1:00 a.m., when Thomas and I stumbled out of the front door into the bitter air. A carriage clattered up alongside us.
“Why don’t you stay at the house?”
Alcohol had dulled my senses. Staying at the lord’s house was a terrible idea, but it also sounded rather wonderful. “I er—”
“Seems silly you spending half your payment on a room you do not need.” He opened the carriage door and climbed inside, his back to me. I admired the man’s figure and how well he carried himself in such fine clothing. We were both beyond intoxicated, and the moment he leaned back in the seat, knees spread, I knew exactly what would happen if I climbed into the carriage beside him. Even ifnothinghappened, rumors would swirl. His charming smile, easy personality and, frankly, firm grip that would take charge were all things I struggled to resist when sober.
“I er…” I mumbled again. “I should really walk back to the inn.”
He tilted his head, his smirk growing. “Get in. I’ll have the carriage take you.”
It was a short carriage ride, less than five minutes. All I had to do was sit and behave. He’d certainly try and repeat something like the hand-on-the-hip moment, but a firm rebuff should do. And this would never happen again. To refuse would be rude.
“Thank you.” I climbed in.
“Driver, to the inn,” Thomas barked, and thumped the roof.
The moment the door closed and the horses clopped into motion, I feared I’d made a mistake. I sat opposite, which seemed the better choice than beside him, but our knees bumped with every jolt, each touch sparking a current, like one of those new electric lights that had been installed in every house in Massalia. I dropped my head back and closed my eyes. It had been… months since I’d indulged in a man’s touch, and only then because I’d paid him to touch me in a grubby bathroom stall. Just the thought turned my stomach. Before that sordid encounter, it had been… years.
Of course, the man I’d paid to get me off—an awful encounter that had done the job but left me feeling wretched—had later seen my photograph in a newspaper article about the new science our agency used to locate criminals, and he’d threatened to ruin my business unless I paid him a handsome sum. So here I was, working for a lord, needing money beyond my means, knowing if I refused him too hard, he might simply not pay and my career would be over anyway.
Firm fingers dug into my knee.
I snapped my eyes open. “Sir. Please—”
“Please?” His grip roamed higher, up my thigh, and by God, if he didn’t know I was more inclined toward men, he would soon enough.
“My lord, I am in your employment. This is inappropriate.”
He shifted to the seat beside me, keeping his hand on my leg. He leaned closer, his shoulder against mine, burning where it touched. “Saymy lordagain.”
I couldn’t do this. I didn’t want to do this. Regardless of my filling erection, and the heat racing through my veins, I couldn’t go down this route again. In the past, it had always ended in disaster. I swallowed, head spinning, thoughts whirring, body pumping hot.
“My lord—” I hadn’t meant to say the words, but they were out, and he took them as an agreement. His tongue swept the corner of my mouth and his hand shot to my cock, squeezing. A willful moan escaped my efforts to control it, and his tongue sought mine, inching me open. His hand rubbed, his kiss smothered, and all of him was everywhere at once, too hot and loud. By God, I didn’t want this, but also, I very much did. The alcohol, my head, my body, they all conspired against my will. Would it be so terrible to surrender to desire?
Yes, it would. As I already knew, Rochefort was my employer, and I had rules. Never fuck a lord. Never mix business with pleasure. For the sake of a quick, desperate fuck, not much else that was good would come from it.
Then he rubbed me harder, and I somehow had my hand on his fine, well-tailored trousers, rubbing his dick.
The carriage rocked.
“We’re here, milords,” the driver called.
