Page 18 of Seduced by a Scoundrel (Tales from the Brotherhood #1)

Eighteen

F rom the time he was a young lad learning to stitch at his mother’s feet, Jeremy had known what he wanted from his life. He’d longed to be just like his mother, to own a shop and manage it with gentle authority. He’d dreamed of a vast and diverse clientele who would see him, if not as a friend, then as a confidante.

Several days after leaving Derrek at The Chameleon Club to return to his premises on Jermyn Street, Jeremy was surrounded by everything he’d directed his ambition toward since those early days with his mother. Artie, Timothy, Jonty, and whichever members of The Brotherhood had come to their assistance when Jeremy fled had repaired the shop admirably and restored it to the highest functioning order. While the lads had taken no new orders in Jeremy’s absence, they had completed every stitch of work on the orders that had already been placed.

Everything was as it should be and more. Within hours of settling back into his rooms and sending the lads out to spread the word that he had returned to his shop, customers began arriving at his doorstep or sending their servants to make appointments for measurements and commissions. London was abuzz with what everyone knew would be an unusually busy beginning of the summer, and by nightfall, Jeremy was up to his eyes in work.

It should have made him happy. He should have been delighted at the commissions and well-wishes from old and new customers. He should have taken far more joy in the warm welcome his lads had given him and enjoyed regaling them with stories of the countryside far more than he did.

Everything that should have been wonderful seemed pale, though. Derrek did not arrive on his doorstep before the close of business that first day, nor did he come before Jeremy went to bed that night. He was not there in the morning either, and even though he spent far more time than he should have gazing out the front window of his shop, hoping to spot Derrek passing on the street, or even more longingly, making his way to the door to look out in all directions for him, Derrek was absent.

He told himself that Derrek, too, had only just returned to London after a months-long absence. He did not know for certain, but from Derrek’s sullen appearance when he returned earlier than expected to The Chameleon Club, Jeremy suspected that Derrek had had some sort of difficult conversation with Mr. Anderson at Scotland Yard. It was possible he’d been sacked, which might have meant Derrek was having difficulty with alternative employment, or maybe even with his landlord.

Jeremy came up with a dozen excuses as to why his lover hadn’t come to him, but none of them eased his mind in any way. He worried that he’d offended Derrek by leaving when he’d been told to stay put or that he’d put Derrek off of him entirely by asserting himself.

Not that he would change the way he’d asserted himself for anything. He stood by the things he’d said to Derrek in the halls of The Chameleon Club, he just wished the conversation hadn’t been necessary.

Four days had passed, and Jeremy tried to tell himself that everything was back to as it should have been as he worked to make adjustments to the jacket he was constructing for the Duke of Burville, who stood on a pedestal in the middle of the shop while Jeremy moved around him. Ordinarily, he enjoyed conversations with the duke, who was also a founding member of The Brotherhood. That morning, however, he could not bring himself to reply with more than grunts or short answers.

“I suppose it is morbid for so many of us to be increasing our wardrobes in anticipation of the death of our king,” Burville commented as Jeremy moved around him with pins, making certain the proportions of the jacket were perfect. “Word from Windsor is that King William is very ill indeed.”

“He has been for some time,” Jeremy said, not glancing up to meet the friendly duke’s eyes.

“True,” Burville said, “but I have been given to understand that things truly are approaching their end.”

Jeremy could only reply with a sympathetic sound. His heart squeezed within his chest. Had things approached the end between him and Derrek? They could not have. Jeremy had left too many things unsaid. He’d never truly told Derrek how much he meant to him.

“Princess Victoria’s eighteenth birthday is less than a week away,” Burville went on. “I myself believe that the king will live past that blessed day, thus saving us all the strain of the Duchess attempting to declare another regency. Mind you, I do not believe that claim would be successful, even though many do, but the fuss that would be caused and the struggle for control would be horrific. Though being ruled over by a young girl has its own pitfalls. I suppose Victoria will be surrounded by the finest and sharpest advisors once she ascends the throne, but she will also be surrounded by sharks and vultures.”

Jeremy nodded, mostly because Burville’s tone had reached a point where that felt like the correct response. He was too despondent and missed Derrek too much to truly engage in the conversation.

Burville sensed as much. “Forgive me for prying,” he said in a suddenly kinder tone, “but is there anything I might assist you with?”

When Jeremy glanced up at the man, he was both surprised and calmed by the kind and knowing expression the duke wore.

“I have always felt as though this shop is a place where I can speak freely about things that must be hidden otherwise,” Burville continued, stepping down from the block as Jeremy finished his pinning. “As a man who has dealt with romantic angst in the not terribly distant past, I know the distracted look you wear.”

Jeremy was glad he’d stepped behind Burville to remove the pinned jacket. His face flushed hot, and he was certain he wore every one of his emotions on his sleeve. “I am not certain what to say about my situation,” he told the duke vaguely as he moved the jacket to the worktable at the other side of the room. “I am in a position that I have never found myself in before, and I fear I have made too many miscalculations.”

Burville hummed knowingly as he donned his own jacket before Jeremy could rush to assist him. “I believe I understand,” he said. “And though my opinion was not asked, I will tell you from my own experience, it is better to say something sooner and bring matters as these out into the open than it is to go for years simply pining and eating one’s heart out.”

Jeremy heated even more. A duke was giving him romantic advice, all while knowing the subject of his affection was another man. The world had truly turned upside down.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Jeremy said with a nod. “I am not certain my particular situation leaves me at liberty to say anything. I am not entirely certain what I feel, to be honest.”

Burville smiled at him as he fetched his hat and coat to leave. “All will be well,” he said. “I am certain of it. You are a kind and honorable man, and you are an affable one at that. I know that Talboys will come around.” He added a wink to show how much he understood.

Jeremy wanted to sink into the floor in mortification. There were a great many advantages to belonging to The Brotherhood, as he had recently discovered, but it also meant that a great many others knew his personal business. That he could do without.

“I will send word when your jacket is finished,” Jeremy said, walking Burville to the door. He went so far as to accompany the man out to the street, if only so that he could breathe the fresh air for a moment. “It should not take particularly long, as?—”

Jeremy stopped with his mouth open as he glanced down Jermyn Street and saw the one person who he had been longing for without even realizing it since returning to London.

“Clary!” he called out, stepping away from Burville and nearly running to his friend as she walked closer, carrying a large and seemingly heavy valise. “Clary, you’re in London!”

“Jeremy!” Clary called out in return, picking up her pace and running with one hand on her hat to keep it in place. “There you are!”

They met with wordless exclamations of happiness. Clary dropped her bag, and the two of them embraced like long-lost siblings. Jeremy was so overcome with relief at the unexpected reunion with the very person he needed more than anyone right then that he let out a small sob and lifted Clary off her feet to spin her in a circle. If there were people watching the two of them in shock or horror at the display, he did not know and neither did he care.

“Let me assist you with this,” Burville said, quietly stepping up to take Clary’s bag and moving it inside the shop.

Jeremy gave the man a distracted thank you before whisking Clary inside the shop.

“What are you doing here?” he asked after bidding Burville goodbye. He rushed to Clary and grabbed both of her hands, wanting nothing more than to embrace her again and burst into tears in her arms.

“You said that if I was ever in London I should come to see you,” Clary said, her face as bright as the moon as the two of them drank in the sight of each other.

“I did not expect you to come so soon,” Jeremy said.

“And I did not expect to miss you so much or to find country life so dull after you left,” she said. “I had very little to do, so I decided to hand that small shop over to my cousin so that I might find my fortune here in London with you.”

It was incredibly bold of Clary to leave everything behind for an uncertain future, but Jeremy admired her immensely for it.

“You are welcome to anything and everything I can offer you,” Jeremy said, feeling as though he had found a safe harbor in a storm. “As you can see, this is my shop. Allow me to show you around and explain my business.”

“I would like nothing more,” Clary said.

They spent the next half hour touring the shop while Jeremy explained everything. All other heartaches and troubles were forgotten as he introduced Clary to the lads and explained the scope of his business. As expected, Clary was deeply impressed with everything. She was particularly interested when Jeremy briefly showed her the small garden behind his building which connected it to the opposite one.

“You once said something about creating two businesses that share a workshop between them,” Clary said with a mischievous look. “I can see now what you mean.”

A spark of hope lit Jeremy from the inside out as he remembered that idea. He was uncertain whether the owner of the opposing business was at all inclined to sell or whether the other building could be rented, but now he wanted to find out.

“Are you truly here to stay?” he asked Clary several more minutes later, as they sat drinking tea in Jeremy’s upstairs rooms. “Is this a visit or a relocation?”

“I cannot say that I truly know,” Clary said, looking perfectly at home sitting at Jeremy’s table. “I should like to work with you, if you would allow it.”

“Of course I would allow it,” Jeremy said, laughing with joy at the thought. “You allowed me to work with you, after all.”

“Yes, this will make us even,” Clary said. “I would impose upon you for a room to stay in as well, but I’m uncertain Mr. Talboys would want me around.”

She asked the question with a cheeky look, but that grin faltered when Jeremy’s expression turned to pure misery and his entire body sank with the weight of his sorrows.

“What is the matter?” Clary asked, like a sister who would go to war for her brother’s honor. “What has Talboys done to you?”

“Nothing,” Jeremy sighed. “We had a small bit of a falling out is all. Derrek was insistent that I stay safe and secure within the walls of a club we both belong to and I insisted on returning to my life and my business. We quarreled a bit over it, and we have not seen each other in days.”

Clary blinked at him then put her teacup down. “You quarreled because he wished to keep you tucked away in a box all to himself and you insisted on being your own man?”

Jeremy smiled at Clary’s assessment of the situation. Of course his friend would see things from his side immediately and without him needing to explain.

“Derrek has some troubles of his own,” he said. “He may not have given his superiors in Scotland Yard sufficient notice that he was taking me out to the country to keep me safe. I have not confirmed it, but I believe he may have been dismissed from the police.”

“Poor Talboys,” Clary said, pressing a hand to her chest. “But that is no reason for him to wish to keep you a prisoner.”

“He insists his intent was to keep me safe.”

“And are you still in danger?” Clary asked. “Because word around the village was that Lord Albert returned for an incredibly brief stay before returning to the Continent.”

Jeremy sat straighter. “Has he returned to the Continent? Has that been confirmed?”

“I could not say for certain,” Clary said with a frown. “I learned as much through gossip.”

Jeremy frowned, considering it. He did not know Lord Albert well enough to guess what the man would do, but from Derrek, he understood that the blackguard was a coward. He’d seen for himself how frightened of Derrek the man had been when he’d interrupted them that morning.

A sudden wave of longing hit Jeremy. That morning had begun with so much promise, so much love. He knew full well where their interlude would have ended up had they not been interrupted. He’d been ready for it, ready to give everything to Derrek. He’d been ready to spend the rest of his life with the man. How had things gone so wrong?

“Oh, deary,” Clary said, reaching across the table and taking Jeremy’s hand. “Whatever has passed between the two of you, I am certain it can be remedied. It was clear to anyone who had eyes and a bit of knowledge in the village that you and Mr. Talboys were very much in love.

“It’s Detective Talboys,” Jeremy corrected her.

“Actually, it is only Mr. Talboys now.”

Jeremy jumped and twisted so far in his chair at the sound of Derrek’s voice in his doorway that he nearly fell over. Derrek stood there, framed by the door frame, dressed a bit shabbily, unshaved, glancing down slightly. He looked a bit like a stray dog who had found his owner again after a long absence, but Jeremy did not care.

“Derrek!” He leapt up from his seat and rushed to his lover, but he stopped himself before he could throw his arms around the man, burst into tears, and beg him never to go away again. “What is the matter? You look a bit dreadful.”

Derrek huffed a laugh and took a few steps into the room. “I feel dreadful,” he said. “I feel dreadful without you.”

Jeremy’s jaw dropped, but because his head and his heart were both so shocked and telling him different things, one urging caution and the other begging him to throw himself at Derrek, he said nothing.

“I was sacked from the Metropolitan Police,” Derrek said first, then glanced to Clary. “Miss Jones,” he greeted her with a nod.

“Mr. Talboys,” Clary replied. She stood and took a few steps closer to Jeremy, crossing her arms protectively. “What brings you to my friend’s private rooms in the middle of the morning like this?”

Derrek broke into a sly half-smile and shook his head slightly. “I see you’ve been reunited with your co-conspirator in all things,” he said to Jeremy.

“Clary has just arrived from the country,” Jeremy explained. “We were discussing the possibility of her staying and joining my business.”

“An admirable idea,” Derrek said. “One I could have predicted coming to pass.”

“And what are you doing here?” Clary asked, eyes narrowed at Derrek. “I’ve been given to understand that your behavior toward my friend has not been what it should be.”

Derrek lost all traces of his smile as he looked Jeremy in the eyes. “I know,” he said. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “I should not have insisted on keeping you at The Chameleon Club and away from your business. I should have remembered sooner that you are neither a child nor an invalid who needs my advice and guidance in all things.”

“No, you should not,” Clary said.

Jeremy sent her a quelling sideways look. He was grateful that she would be his champion, but this was something that needed to be resolved between him and Derrek alone.

“I had a lover for many years, Joseph,” Derrek explained, including Clary in the conversation as well. “He was a doctor who worked a great deal with the poorest folk in London. I did what I could to protect him, but in the end, he contracted cholera and died.” He paused and glanced down for a moment, then back up at Jeremy. “For years, I have told myself that if I had only taken greater care of him, if I had stopped him from venturing into such dangerous pockets of illness, he might still be here with me.”

Jeremy drew in a breath of understanding. Derrek had told him about Joseph before, but he suddenly made the connection between the two of them. “I am sorry for your loss,” he said. “Death is a terrible thing that robs us of what is most precious to us. But I do not think your Joseph would have thanked you for keeping him overly safe either.”

“I know,” Derrek said with a nod. “Just as I know that I would not be serving you at all by preventing you from living your life, no matter what dangers assail you. And now I can do even less, since I am no longer employed as a policeman.”

“I am sorry you were sacked,” Jeremy said. “I pray that it was not because of me.”

Derrek shook his head. “It was because of my own actions. But I believe there may be a good outcome to the whole thing.” He moved closer to Jeremy. “I have been talking quite a bit to Cecil and Austen and others at The Chameleon Club. We discussed the idea of creating a special protective force for members of The Brotherhood who might find themselves in difficulties.”

“The Brotherhood?” Clary asked.

“It is a newly formed organization of men such as us for the purpose of mutual aid and support,” Jeremy explained, though his heart was racing for Derrek too much to say more.

“I have a natural desire to protect,” Derrek said with a slight shrug. “Perhaps this way, I could put that desire to good use instead of making the one person I care about more deeply than anyone miserable.”

Jeremy’s racing heart threatened to burst. “I am not miserable,” he said stepping closer to Derrek. “I am only miserable without you.”

Derrek smiled tentatively, then took a step forward, reaching for Jeremy’s hands. “I?—”

He was interrupted by the frantic sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, and a moment later, Timothy appeared in the doorway.

“Sir,” Timothy said, his eyes wide as he glanced from Jeremy to Clary to Derrek. “You must come quick. Sir John Conroy has just arrived in the shop.”