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I t was already evening by the time they finished their plans, and Carlo had recognized that and spent some time in the kitchen preparing dinner for everyone. Will had slipped out and purchased oysters, which were served on the half shell with melted butter and slices of fresh-baked bread.

Carlo had roasted two chickens, which were served with onions that had been sautéed in butter until they were caramelized. Carrots had been roasted and shaved into curls and were accompanied by sliced roast turnips.

“Your cook is truly a marvel,” Pemberton said. “Had I a larger household I would be tempted to steal him from you.”

“So far he and Will are quite happy with us, and we are happy with both of them,” Magnus said. “We shall have to make you a regular guest at dinner in the future.”

“That alone would be an excellent motivation for me to secure Mr. Curiel’s release,” Pemberton said. “I am sure with such an excellent team behind me I will triumph in court.”

Carlo had also baked an apple tart, topped with whipped sweetened cream, which left all the guests asking for more.

Finally, they all left, and Magnus and Toby reclined in the lounge with glasses of brandy while Will and Carlo cleaned up. “This has certainly been a surprising day,” Magnus said.

“I knew something of the sort would happen as soon as you read out the article in the Times this morning,” Toby said. “My work is clear. I must fit a visit to Gervase Quinn into my Monday schedule and attempt to insinuate us into any investigation of the deal between the Suez Company and Disraeli. If there is indeed an inquiry.”

“I will speak with Gerard Houghton,” Magnus said. “I’ll send Will around tomorrow morning with a request and see what kind of response I get.”

Sunday morning, after a sumptuous breakfast of porridge, fish, eggs and bacon, Magnus sent Will around to Houghton’s lodgings, and the boy returned soon after with an invitation for Magnus and Toby to join him for tea that afternoon at three.

When that was settled, Magnus sent a note to Sylvia and Jess asking if he could stop by, and Will returned with a welcome any time that morning. So while Toby remained at home to work on a translation for a client, Magnus set off on foot to the mews off Jermyn Street.

The air had cleared and a bit of sun warmed the chilly air. Magnus tipped his hat several times to well-dressed ladies out for a stroll.

“This is a treat,” Jess said, when she answered the door. “We haven’t seen you since Sylvia’s birthday two weeks ago.”

“December is always a busy month,” Magnus said, handing Jenny the maid his coat and hat. “How have you been?”

“Sylvia keeps us on a whirl with her charity work. She’s in the lounge now, writing out invitations to a party in January.”

Magnus and Sylvia kissed cheeks, and Magnus accepted the offer of a cup of tea. “What brings you out?” Sylvia asked.

“Were you aware that Mrs. Curiel’s husband has been arrested for murder?” he asked.

Sylvia nodded. “Yes, Jess read that in the paper yesterday. We have been debating what action to take. Whether to send her a note, or try to arrange a visit.”

“And that is what I have come ask. We recently learned that Mr. Curiel, the boxer, is an invert. Do you recall meeting our friend Silas Warner at your birthday dinner?”

“The law clerk? A very lively fellow. Yes, I remember him.” She looked closely at him. “Didn’t you say that the two of them were lovers?”

“They are. And on the Saturday night in question, Ezra boxed in an early match, and then left the arena to dine with Silas at the Tabard. From there, they came directly to our home for a soirée. So it is impossible that Ezra could be in the alley behind the boxing arena at the time of Walpert’s death.”

“And yet according to the Times , Rebecca implicated her husband,” Jess said.

“Exactly. Which is why Silas would appreciate it if you could visit Mrs. Curiel and see if you can determine why she would do so, when there is evidence to the contrary.”

“What an intriguing puzzle,” Sylvia said. “Yes, I think we could arrange to pay a call on Mrs. Curiel to comfort her in this distressing time.”

“She is quite keen to continue acquaintance with anyone in society,” Jess said drily. “I feel confident we will be received.”

Sylvia turned to Magnus. “Why do you think she has lied in this manner?”

“Could it be to access her husband’s wealth and establish herself as a woman of independent means?” Magnus asked. “You are both aware of the strictures that come of being a wife.”

“And she has expressed to us a distaste in the past about how her husband earns his living,” Jess said. “Removing him from the picture could allow her to find a new husband with greater status.”

Sylvia shook her head. “She is a Jewess, remember. Short of marrying into the Rothschilds, she is not about to enter society.”

They discussed various scenarios over tea and cakes, and then Magnus returned to Ormond Yard in time to head to Gerard Houghton’s. “I think I shall float away on an ocean of tea today,” Magnus said.

“It is the British way, after all,” Toby said.

Houghton’s address led them to a narrow door adjacent to a doctor’s surgery on Bond Street. They rang the bell and a young housemaid answered the door and led them up a staircase.

“Welcome to my ancestral home,” Houghton said. “The surgery below once belonged to my father. When he passed the practice was sold but I retained the apartment.”

He was in his shirtsleeves, which revealed more of the hair that seemed to cover his body—fine, dark ones on his lower arms, and a tuft that peeked out of his open collar. He led them into a fusty salon, one which had not been decorated since before Victoria ascended to the throne. A silver tea service had already been laid out on the table, along with very good bone china—all, Magnus presumed, inherited from the late Houghtons, since none of it reflected the character of the man in front of them.

He poured the tea, and then said, “To what do I owe this honor?”

“You may have read about the fate of the boxer Ezra Curiel in the Times ,” Magnus said.

“Indeed I did. Tragic thing. I suppose that type of man must be violent in nature, to choose a career in the ring.”

“The thing is, we have direct evidence of Curiel’s innocence,” Toby said. “At the very time of the alleged crime, he was at our home.” He paused for impact. “Discussing, if I recall correctly, your mutual lack of foreskin.”

Gerard put his teacup down on the saucer with a clatter. “Really? How odd.”

“You do recall the conversation?” Magnus asked.

“Of course. It is not often that the topic of foreskin comes up in polite conversation. Even at a soirée like yours.”

He stared at them. “But you can’t imagine that I would give evidence of that in a court,” he said.

“Not the particular topic of conversation, of course,” Magnus said. “But if we were to need to establish Mr. Curiel’s alibi, would you be willing to acknowledge your presence that evening?”

Before Gerard could respond, Toby hastened to add, “While there were several men there who might be called inverts in less polite company, such as Magnus and myself, there were others present as well with sexual bona fides relating to women. So you would not be incriminating yourself by stating you were in our company.”

Gerard looked down at the floor and was quiet. Magnus and Toby shared a glance before he spoke.

“I have not spoken of this before, because it is not something of which I am proud,” he said. “While other men might boast of sexual exploits I prefer to keep myself to myself.” He sighed. “But two years ago I was arrested in the alley behind the Tabard. In flagrante, if you will, with my cock in the mouth of a boy who pretended to be much older than he was.”

“Oh, dear,” Magnus said. “Were there consequences?”

“I do not come from a titled family, as you know, but my father had some reputation among the police for treating their injuries, so his name and credit helped me. The boy admitted that he had lied about his age, which helped as well. I paid a fine, on my behalf and on his, and the case was dismissed.”

Gerard sighed once again. “So you can see I would not like to have my name brought into a case that might position me in a similar light.”

Toby and Magnus shared a glance again, and Magnus nodded. “Of course.”

“But I may be able to shed some light on Mr. Curiel’s defense,” he said. “Because I attended the fights the night of your soirée, and I spoke with a man there who was down on his luck.”

“Go on,” Toby said.

“Though I am not a wealthy man, I am not opposed to putting a few coins in the way of a man who needs it, in exchange for... well, services.”

Magnus had never found it necessary to pay for sex. He was lucky enough to be tall and handsome, and have spent many years among sailors who were deprived of contact with the fair sex, and so more willing to exchange favors with each other. And then, of course, he met Toby.

“This gentleman—and he was a gentleman, I could tell from his clothing—had a certain look in his eye. But then he turned and fled from me.”

Magnus wasn’t sure where this conversation was going, but he nodded encouragingly.

“I gave him a few minutes’ head start, and then followed him out of the ring. I spotted him in the alley, talking to a much larger man. I was disappointed, of course. I assumed my instincts had been right, but I was too slow to respond, and another man had gotten in first.”

Magnus was spellbound, eager to hear what happened next, and he could tell from Toby’s posture that his lover was as well.

“But I was wrong,” Gerard said. “Or perhaps the gentleman was, and he had approached this larger man in the hope of selling his services. The other man responded by punching him, hard, in the chest, and he fell backwards to the pavement.”

Magnus’s mouth opened but he didn’t say anything.

“The big man left, and I hurried over to the man on the pavement to see if I could aid him. But I could tell immediately that he was dead. Though I did not know him by name then, I recognized the circumstances of his demise when I read about them in the paper.”

He looked up at Magnus and Toby. “So you see, Mr. Walpert was killed before I arrived at your soirée.”

“And what did you do then?” Toby asked.

“I ran away like a scared rabbit,” Gerard said. “I knew there was nothing more I could do for him. And I was frightened that the big man might come back. I went directly to your home.”

“This certainly adds a wrinkle to the story,” Magnus said. “Could you identify that large man in court?”

Gerard shook his head. “I saw him only from behind. And Walpert was not a particularly tall man, so my impression could be altered by that.”

Toby had another idea. “Do you bet on the fights?”

Gerard nodded. “Occasionally, though not to an extreme, and never more than I can afford to lose. Not like Walpert, though. He didn’t have a farthing left when he left the arena. Or at least that’s what he told me.”

“Have you ever seen a large man at the arena accepting bets?” Toby asked.

Gerard shook his head. “If you want to place a bet, you signal a boy, who comes up to you and takes your money and gives you a chit. If you win, he returns to you, takes back the chit and hands over your winnings. If you lose, you can tear up the chit and walk away.”

“So you never bet on credit?”

“I don’t. But I have seen other men do so.”

“Walpert?”

“I couldn’t say. Though I recognized him that night, I’d never spoken to him before or taken special notice of him.”

They finished their tea, and bid Gerard a good afternoon. “You won’t bring my name into this, will you?” he asked nervously.

“Not without your express permission,” Magnus said. “Though your testimony might be necessary to keep an innocent man from the gallows.”

“And Richard Pemberton can rehearse your testimony with you, to remove all suspicion of inversion,” Toby said. “You were simply a man at the fights who spoke to another. When you left the arena, you spotted the man you’d spoken with and witnessed the assault.”

“No one could blame you for leaving once you established Walpert was dead,” Magnus said. “I’d be frightened myself.”

“Right now, we are at the very beginning of assembling pieces of a jigsaw puzzle,” Toby said. “It is quite possible that we will be able to identify the assailant through other means.”

They walked out to Bond Street and turned toward home. “What do you make of his story?” Magnus asked.

“I find it believable. My experience is not so wide as Gerard’s, of course, but I have on occasion made eye contact with a man that was an expression of sexual interest.”

“And have you pursued that?” Magnus asked.

Toby laughed. “Of course, my dear. I made no pretense of being a virgin before I met you. But since that morning in Gervase Quinn’s office, I have had eyes for only you.”

“I admit to more than my share of impulsive assignations,” Magnus said. “Most of them at sea, though a few on land as well. But I never had the need to hand out coin afterwards.”

“You are quite a bit more attractive than Gerard,” Toby said. “And younger, to boot. Gerard is forty-five if a day, and though some men find a belly like his attractive, I’d find it difficult to secure a good purchase on his cock.”

Magnus laughed deeply. “I didn’t realize you had thought of him in that way.”

“Magnus. I think of nearly every man I meet in that way. Don’t you?”

“Honestly? Only the most attractive. And those I am curious about.”

“Curious sounds a good deal like Curiel.”

“And wouldn’t you wish to wrap your hands around those muscles?” Magnus said. “I admit to some amount of jealousy of Silas, that he can explore that body. Curiel is a much more interesting lesson in anatomy than one could find in a book. Do you think the cock is a muscle?”

It was Toby’s turn to laugh. “Keep your voice down, Magnus. We are in public. Did you not study anatomy at Eton?”

“Only in the most basic sense. I have no real idea of what goes on inside one.” He leaned in close. “Though I do have a great understanding of the role of the cock and arse in generating pleasure.”

“You dolt,” Toby said, and elbowed him. “Do not forget the function of the prostate, which provides so much sexual pleasure in sodomy that it can lead to obsession.”

“I do recall learning that male sexual excess leads to debility and female reproductive health is damaged by intellectual study,” Magnus said.

The gray skies threatened to open at any minute, and Toby increased his pace until they approached Ormond Yard, so they could avoid being drenched. “We allowed ourselves to be distracted,” Toby said as he slowed, once in view of their doorstep. “We have established that Gerard Houghton witnessed Nathan Walpert’s murder, during a time when Silas and Ezra were at the Tabard Inn.”

“And that is certainly a point to relay to Silas and Pemberton. But Gerard is reluctant to be involved, and can only identify the villain by his size.”

The skies opened up as they reached the steps up to their door, and they managed to get inside with only a bit of dampness. “I don’t know about you, but I could do with a whisky,” Magnus said. “And then a solid supper, and some rejuvenating time upstairs.”

“I am with you on all three counts,” Toby said. “Though I do so with a care that poor Ezra is languishing in a gaol cell charged with murder, and it is upon those of us who know and care about him, and justice, to remove the shroud over him.”