Page 48 of To Sketch a Scandal (Lucky Lovers of London #4)

“The grandchild?” Matty repeated. “That’s the news?”

Barrows looked taken aback. “Well, I thought it was very good news, myself.”

“It is good news,” Matty stammered. “But… Then why did your letter sound so grim?”

“Did it?”

“I thought you were bringing me here to tell me…” he stammered, breaking off in confusion. “Some things have gone missing recently, and I… I assumed you knew something.”

“Knew something?” said Barrows. “Matthew, I don’t think I understand.”

“Well, some things went missing, like I said,” he repeated, mind spinning.

“Things that might not exactly prove, but certainly wouldn’t help all the suspicions at the Met, and then…

Then I did something that was maybe very stupid, I…

” He paused, looking Barrows mournfully in the eye.

How could he possibly admit that he’d thrown away all Barrows had done for him?

He had not regretted it until this moment, but now…

“Go on, Mr. Shaw,” said Warren. Here, it could not be mate, or love, or certainly not sweetheart. But all three showed through the thin veneer of polite address.

And maybe Matthew Shaw was not equipped to have this conversation with Detective Inspector George Barrows, but it did seem that Warren’s mate and love and sweetheart could manage it, because that bloke knew he was more than a pretty tool and a charity case.

That he was good for something else, even if he wasn’t sure what it was yet.

And that was alright, because he could be loved for more than what role he could play in someone else’s enterprise.

“I left the Met.”

Barrows did not mask his surprise. “Why?”

“Because Detective Ashton wanted me to shave,” he said. “He ruined my promotion, and then tried to force me right back into the same box that had lost it for me in the first place. I couldn’t do it. It was an affront to my spirit, as you said.”

It sounded ridiculous, but Barrows nodded slowly and grimly without hesitation. He seemed to understand exactly what Matty meant.

“And what does that have to do with your missing items?” he asked.

“I hadn’t considered—therefore hadn’t ruled out—that someone at the Met had taken them.

So when I left in a…well, a bit of a high temper, I worried that I might have fanned the flames of someone’s enmity.

And then your letter arrived, and I got it into my head you were trying to warn me of just that sort of thing. ”

Barrows considered it. “Those are some rather wild logical jumps, Matthew.”

“Well, you weren’t exactly there to talk me out them this time, were you? What was I supposed to think?”

“You were supposed to think I was inviting you to tea!”

“How, exactly, was I supposed to understand that? The letter was ice-cold, sir, not exactly dripping with friendliness. Could you not have been a little clearer that this was a bloody social call?”

Barrows looked surprised at Matty’s outburst, but Matty was surprised he hadn’t sprung right to his feet.

“And if you wanted me for a social call,” he went on, “why didn’t you ever indicate that social calls were to be part of our relationship going forward? I thought…”

He couldn’t say it. It got caught in his throat on the way out. Warren rubbed his arm, but the words didn’t budge.

“What is it, Matthew?” Barrows said.

“I have been under the impression,” he said finally, taking great care so that his voice did not shake.

“That you wouldn’t want to see me again.

I didn’t think you had any reason to contact me if not to tell me some dreadful news.

Now that you’re retired, I figured you were perfectly happy leaving me behind. ”

Barrows looked at him like he’d only just remembered where they’d met, why they knew each other in the first place.

Like he was just realizing now that he’d not, perhaps, mended Matty quite as thoroughly as he liked to believe.

That if he’d wanted to do that, he ought to have put a little more work in.

“Then, ah, I suppose I will be as clear as possible, Matthew,” he said.

“I would be delighted to continue an acquaintance with you under our new circumstances. If, of course, you would.” He took a deep breath.

“It’s not as if we have the simplest of histories.

I asked a lot of you, over the years. A lot that, I’m not too proud to admit, I would not have asked of my own grandchildren.

I would be disappointed, but not offended, if asking for continued friendship was finally a request too far. ”

A little “Hmm” from Warren caught Matty’s attention.

“What?”

Warren shook his head a little. “Nothing, I just… I’m glad to hear he can admit it,” he said. “That he asked a lot . Because he did. And it shows. Every day, it shows.”

There was a dark sort of undercurrent there that neither Matty nor Barrows missed. There were more colorful words he wanted to use to describe his understanding of this professional partnership.

“He had every right to ask for whatever he wanted,” Matty reminded him. He turned to Barrows, said it again for his benefit. “You could have asked me for anything. I don’t resent it. You saved my life.”

“Probably,” Barrows said. “But you’ve more than paid that back by now.”

“No, I haven’t. I couldn’t even hang on to the position you got for me.”

“Legacy is not necessarily that simple,” he said. “Last year, when you risked everything to spare Mr. Forester as I spared you—clumsy as the attempt may have been—you paid it back.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It will someday. When you’re old and retired and thinking through what you’re leaving behind. It will make sense then.”

Matty wasn’t convinced of that. But one thing was very clear: Warren was right.

He’d misread this entire situation. Every bit of it, from Barrows’s feelings about their friendship to the chances of there actually being more than rumors and gossip among his old coworkers.

He’d been wrong about everything, letting small, sad parts of himself take the lead on the case while his reason sat idle and useless.

He was just grateful Warren had noticed the spiral he’d gotten sucked into and showed up today.

If he hadn’t, he might not have even come inside, reeling and worrying until he got himself caught up in a worse situation.

“Well,” he said at last. “Th-thank you, I suppose. I… I guess I’ll think on it.

” A particular sadness deep inside him put up a fuss, telling him not to even consider giving up on any scrap of affection he could get.

But it was time, at last, to figure out who his friends were.

That was easy at the extremes, looking at Warren or Detective Ashton.

It was more complicated, though, for the fellow who’d saved him and mentored him, but under circumstances that were far from straightforward.

“I might like to, but… Mr. Bakshi’s right. I should think it over.”

Barrows nodded. “Mr. Bakshi strikes me as someone who cares for your well-being,” he said very seriously. “Whatever you decide, I’ll be glad to know you’ve found that, at the very least.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Matty. “I’m very glad as well.”

“Now that we’ve settled this,” Barrows went on. “Will you take the ring back?”

“For what? The promotion’s over.”

“To remember me by,” he said. “Particularly if you decide that this is our final parting, it would mean a lot for me if you took it. Forget the promotion. It was never really about that in the first place, and I should have told you that to begin with.”

“You should have,” Matty agreed quietly.

“We weren’t working in a place where our feelings could be particularly free.”

“Bit of an understatement.”

“But we aren’t there now,” Barrow said. “So will you take it?”

Matty was tempted to turn from this attempt to keep the door open between them.

But in the end, he had the courage to nod.

To wait, touching Warren’s hand gently as Barrows went to get it.

And to slip the thing onto his finger at last, now that he knew it had been given out of reciprocation, rather than expectation.

* * *

Their departure, after that, was not hasty, but was not put off, either.

Some time to absorb the reality of his situation with Barrows was needed in order to decide what made sense going forward.

Difficult problems required not just all the information, but a moment to breathe and think and see what it all meant.

The better level of himself knew that, and as they left, Warren helped keep him in that space.

“Where to?” Matty asked as they went out onto the street. Warren always had a good idea of the best meeting place for their circumstances.

Warren hesitated, then said, with a determined set to his face, “My place.”

Matty felt his brows climb straight up to his hat brim. “ Your place? As in, your house?”

“That’s right.”

“But your family—”

“Thinks I ought to bring friends round more often.” Warren leaned sheepishly against the black gate to Barrows’s house, peering at Matty like he was nervous to broach something.

“And I think they might be right. I’d like you to meet them, Matty.

I have to be clear with you, though: while my brother and his wife have sort of figured us out, I cannot tell my mother or anyone else what you really mean to me.

If you come round, you’ll have to be my dear companion.

Even if it’s months, or years or…” He paused.

“Maybe forever. That’s how you’d have to be known.

But I think I prefer that to the alternative, to having to keep you so separate and secret all the time, particularly if things don’t go swimmingly at the Fox.

I’m allowed friends, though, and we’re hardly the first English bachelors to choose each other over wives.

So. Do you think that sort of thing would be too difficult for you?

I hate asking someone to pretend like that, but I’m afraid it’s what I have to offer at the moment. If you’ll have it.”

Forever.

It was that word that echoed long past the rest. Matty had never been promised forever in anything. Never even had it floated as a possibility.

“A little pretending,” Matty said slowly, feeling a flush creep over his face, “has never been too difficult for me, you know.”

“That’s why I hate to ask it of you,” said Warren. He’d tucked his hands in his pockets now, the wiliness he brought to lovemaking overshadowed by bashfulness in matters of feeling. But he pressed on. “I don’t want to be like old Barrows back there, forcing you to be something you’re not.”

“But I am your companion,” Matty said without hesitation. “That’s perfectly true. I’m your love and your sweetheart, sure, but I’m your mate as well, aren’t I?”

“I suppose…”

“The age we’re in…it’s proving to be a difficult one, Warren.

I don’t get the feeling we’re at the apex of our difficulties.

Neither the law nor the church nor any significant amount of public opinion is on our side in this, and from my vantage, it seems likely to get worse before it gets better.

But, Warren, I will be to you whatever this age demands of us.

I’ll be a back-alley sneak or a pining celibate or anything in between.

I don’t care what it is, or whether it’s easy.

I’ll have you in any capacity necessary. ”

He could have sworn he saw Warren’s lip quiver, but they were in the street and there was no space for sentiment.

He mastered it quickly, along with a lot of other impulses, if he felt anything like Matty did just now, desperate to touch and kiss and celebrate whatever exactly had just happened between them.

Instead, of all things, Warren smiled and tipped his hat.

Matty tipped his back.

And they started off together, arm in arm like the most proper of companions, for Warren’s house.

“Something’s still bothering me, though,” Matty said as they went up the tidy stair that led to Warren’s front door. “If my housemates bear me no ill will, and Scotland Yard is prepared to let me go without a fuss, then who stole the pictures?”

Warren gave him a sideways look, half-amusement, half-annoyance as he reached for the handle to let them in without hesitation.

“Have you forgotten, Mr. Detective,” he said, as the latch gave way and this new side of his life was revealed to Matty at last, “that I’m the one of us who actually went and made an enemy recently?”