Page 38 of Enlightened

“Isn’t he? I told him I had no idea what he was talking about, but if he’d care to explain, I was happy to listen. That prompted him to tell me that I was as bad as his father-in-law.”

“Compliments, then?”

Mr. Carr gave a chuckle, but then he sighed. “He was not merely guessing, Mr. Lauriston. Heknowsshe is here, in the city. He does not know where, but he knows.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. But I could see there was no doubt in his mind about it. He was by no means sure of my involvement, but he was sure about that.”

“I’ve told her she should leave London. There are many other cities she could easily disappear in.”

“I couldn’t agree more. We were lucky there were no trust papers here when Sir Alasdair sent his men. Her address is recorded in the files. The papers are being kept safely with my bankers now, but you should identify a new solicitor to deal with the trust, someone with no connection to her.”

“I will do so. But Elizabeth needs to decide where she’s going first.”

“She does,” Mr. Carr agreed. “And the sooner she leaves London, the better.”

Mr. Liddle answered the door when David knocked on the front door of the Curzon Street house an hour later.

“Good afternoon, sir,” the butler said, holding the door open. “His Lordship is in his study. Shall I show you through?”

“I think I’ll go to my bedchamber first, thank you,” David said, but when he went to move toward the stairs, the butler placed an impertinent hand on his forearm.

“I believe His Lordship would appreciate it if you would let him know that you are back, sir,” he said quietly. “He was a little concerned when you did not return last night.”

“Oh,” David said, mortified at being so softly rebuked. He’d rather hoped to wash up and put on clean clothes before confronting Murdo, but if Murdo had been worried about him, he supposed he should show face as early as possible. “All right, then.”

Abandoning the stairs, he followed Liddle along the corridor, past the drawing room and on to another door that presumably led to Murdo’s study.

The butler knocked softly at the door, but there was no answer. He knocked again, a little louder this time.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” he said to David over his shoulder. “Perhaps His Lordship has returned to his own rooms.” Having delivered that pronouncement, he opened the door, only to halt in the doorway—David behind him—when he saw that room was, in fact, occupied. Murdo half reclined in the large chair behind the desk, eyes closed and head lolling on his shoulder. He was asleep, and given that he still wore the clothes he’d been in when David left him yesterday, perhaps that wasn’t a surprise. Had he waited up for David all night?

David glanced at the butler, who seemed suddenly paralysed by indecision.

“Leave us, please, Mr. Liddle.” When the butler opened his mouth to protest, David cut him off before he could speak. “I will take responsibility.”

The butler didn’t look particularly reassured by that comment, but he gave a stiff bow and withdrew, closing the study door quietly behind himself. David crossed the room, glad of the rug below his feet that muffled his steps. He stopped in front of Murdo’s chair and gazed down at his lover. The other man looked exhausted and rumpled. Utterly done in. It was close to noon now, and David found himself wondering how long Murdo had been sleeping. If his drawn, pale face was anything to go by, it hadn’t been long.

Staring down at Murdo, knowing that his lover had been worried about him, David felt a pang of guilt—and something else too. A bewildered sort of tenderness, an odd protectiveness that made him reluctant to wake the other man.

David rarely saw Murdo like this, quiet and passive. When they were in bed, Murdo took charge. He was naturally assertive, and since David preferred to cede control, they had fallen into a rhythm that suited both of them. It was easy to forget that Murdo was as breakable as anyone else. Seeing him like this now, tired and vulnerable, was a reminder of that.

The odd spell that held David locked in place was broken when Murdo began to stir. His wakening began with a soft moan and a series of tiny shifts of his body, until he finally lifted his head and, with a slow blink, opened his eyes.

“David,” he breathed, smiling. Then, as memory returned, he sat up abruptly in his chair, demanding in a rusty, too-loud voice, “Where thehellhave you been?”

David had to suppress an urge to snap back in the face of that aggression, answering calmly, “I stayed the night with Euan and Elizabeth. It seemed a better option than walking home in the pitch-dark.”

“You stayed the night!” Murdo exclaimed. “Didn’t it occur to you to at least let me know you were safe?”

“And how was I supposed to do that?” David asked, his own voice rising now.

“A dozen ways. You could’ve sent a note.”

David gave a disbelieving laugh. “By whose hand? Euan and Elizabeth don’t have a retinue of servants like you, you know. They don’t even haveoneservant!”

“I’m sure you could’ve found someone who’d’ve been willing to bring me a note for a coin or two,” Murdo snapped. Then he sighed, and the anger seemed to go out of him. He rubbed his hands over his unshaven cheeks in a weary motion.