Page 46 of Seduced By a Scoundrel

They both blinked at each other, then Jeremy felt the impact of Derrek’s words.

“I do not want anyone else protecting me,” he said, turning to Derrek and taking one of his hands in both of his. “But neither do I want to be treated as a pawn in my own game.”

Derrek scowled for the briefest of moments, then blew out a breath and rubbed his hands over his face. Doing so meant he pulled his hand out of Jeremy’s grasp.

The simple motion was so unnerving that a knot of anxiety formed in Jeremy’s gut.

“I know who the best men to speak to at Scotland Yard might be,” Derrek said, twisting slightly to face Jeremy better. Their knees bumped together in the process. Jeremy had a sudden, breathtaking memory of their legs twined together at other times. “I’m sure we’ll be able to speak to someone who is ready to help us.”

Jeremy managed a small smile. At least they were still “us”.

“So go on and dress in the clothes that were brought up for you,” Derrek went on, standing and stepping to the side to hold up a plain shirt that rested atop a pile of secondhand clothing someone had put on the narrow table against the wall. “I doubt anything here is up to your standards, but everything is clean and smells fresh.”

Jeremy rose with surprising grace, given the anxious feelings that made him feel like he was fighting his way through vines just to move. “Of course, the conundrum of what to wear would not be a problem if I could simply return to my shop and my rooms above to fetch my own clothing. I did not bring everything I own to Kent, after all.”

Derrek sent him a stern look as he handed over the shirt. Under different circumstances, Jeremy might have found that look exciting. It might have led to more.

Instead, Derrek quashed any excitement by saying, “You cannot go back to your shop, Jeremy. Not until we are absolutely certain that the threat presented by Conroy and Lord Albert has passed.”

Jeremy blew out a breath and studied the shirt in his hands. “No, of course not,” he said without conviction. He missed his home and his life more and more with each passing minute.

He dressed without saying more to Derrek. He knew where Derrek stood with absolute certainty, and Derrek likely knew his thoughts on the matter. In a very real way, it was the first major disagreement the two of them had had as an “us”.

He very much disliked the two of them disagreeing on anything at all.

The borrowed clothing did not fit as it should. The shirt was just a bit too tight and the breeches were a little loose. The waistcoat and jacket that accompanied the ensemble were enough to hide any flaws in the fit, to a degree, and as long as he did not smell as he had earlier, Jeremy had few qualms about going downstairs into the heart of the club for some much-needed food.

“London is filled with expectation these days,” Lord Wilmore chattered away excitedly to Jeremy and Derrek as they took a quick moment to eat before going out. “There was quite a bit of speculation about what had happened to you and your shop immediately after the attack,” he told Jeremy, “but much if not all of that speculation has died down in favor of everyone wondering if the king will last until Princess Victoria’s birthday.”

“Which is only just next week,” Lord Fulbright, Wilmore’s partner, who also happened to be at the club, added. “I think the old bastard will make it,” he added with a grin.

“He is rumored to be quite ill indeed,” Wilmore cautioned him. “Though I do pray for the sake of young Victoria and our entire realm that a regency can be prevented.”

The discussion continued for a few more minutes, satisfying Jeremy that no real changes had taken place in the time he and Derrek had been gone. It was clear that Wilmore and Fulbright had forgotten that his life was in danger because of everything they were speculating about, but from the sound of things, it might not matter.

“Less than a fortnight,” Wilmore repeated as Jeremy and Derrek finished their hasty meal and stood to go. “Everything will be resolved and the fate of our kingdom will be decided in less than a fortnight.”

It seemed like such a short time, and yet the end of it all still felt a long ways off.

“Are you anxious to be back in London?” Derrek asked once they’d left the club and moved almost immediately into one of the carriages owned by The Brotherhood that were constantly sitting in wait for its members to use.

Jeremy hummed then sighed then shook his head. “I am anxious for everything to be finished so that I might go back to my own life.”

He glanced to Derrek as he did, intending to imply that Derrek should not force him to stay in hiding, now that they were back in the city.

Instead, Derrek seemed somehow hurt by Jeremy’s words. His expression turned sullen, and rather than continuing the conversation, he glanced out the window, his arms crossed tightly in front of him.

Jeremy had never been to Scotland Yard. It was the headquarters for the relatively newly established Metropolitan Police, and from the moment he and Derrek stepped out of the carriage and up to its large front door, Jeremy felt as though it had the frantic energy of a new business that had yet to find its feet.

“Talboys, is that you?” a wiry young man in a rather smart uniform stopped his journey across the front hall to address Derrek.

“Duncan,” Derrek greeted the man with a nod, standing a bit taller and suddenly seeming twice as impressive as moments ago. “As you see, it is me. Do you know if Anderson is about?”

The wiry officer, Duncan, shifted directions and approached. “Rumor was that you’d buggered off to India or some such,” he said, smiling. He glanced at Jeremy, then asked, “Who’s your friend?”

“Mr. Wilkes is one of the preeminent tailors of theton, and he needs to speak to Anderson on a matter of great importance,” Derrek replied.

His ferocity wiped the smile off Duncan’s face at once. Jeremy was uncertain whether that was kind or necessary.

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