“Stealing from the kitchens too are we?” I sneered. I did not like that I had been captured so easily and whatever reason this man had for luring me to the attic, I would not be easy prey again.
“Sit,” The man commanded. I grimaced and sat in the proffered chair, pulling the lapels of my nightgown closed to ward off the biting chill.
“What is this? Are you going to imprison me here until I freeze to death and then you can be off with the Staff?”
The man snickered to himself. “I saw your reaction to that Staff. You were like a child opening a birthday gift. You want that so badly don’t you, you naughty boy!”
I was outraged by his playful, almost flirtatious attitude. “Thirty years I have waited to own the Staff and I’ll be damned if I let you steal it from under my nose.” I blustered. The stranger held his hand up,
“Ah, don’t worry Benedict. I have other prizes on my wish list.” He wagged his brows and I pinched my lips closed.
“I saw at dinner how well acquainted you are with the new Lord Ardmillan.” The man said.
My hackles rose. Had this vagabond been lurking in the shadows when Euan paid me a bedtime visit? Had he listened to my wanton moans as Euan gamahouched me? Was I about to be blackmailed? Blood iced in my veins. I fixed my captor with a steely glare but remained stoic.
“How well did you know the Late Lord Ardmillan?” The man said as he poured two glasses of Port. He picked up a delicate stemmed glass and offered it to me. I looked at the glass as if it were full of poison but I did not take it. He put the glass down on the table in front of me.
“Fine”, he huffed. “I thought that a sip of Port might warm us both and make this chat a little easier.”
“Who are you? John Edwards of Massachusetts, Artur Engels of Germany—“ I accused with a mocking sneer. “What is your name, man? I will not say another word until I know who I am addressing.”
The man stood, smiled, and bowed his head respectfully.
“Sebastian Cavell, at your service.”
Truths &Untruths
I felt warmth rush to my nethers as he purred out that name–Sebastian Cavell. I was not supposed to feel this… this heat for the man who had lied his way into my old friend’s good graces. The lantern light caressed his face giving it sharp; defined, almost feline angles and making his eyes glow devilishly. He was indeed a very well-made man and I was both allured by him and appalled with myself for feeling even a little tingle of attraction towards this rapscallion. I had heard the name Sebastian Cavell before and for a second could not think where I’d heard it. Then it came to me…the front page of The Times Newspaper that Cavell—or John Edwards—had been reading on the train to Scotland. The headline read:
Gentleman Thief Strikes Again!!!
“Nohhh! It cannot be.” Sebastian Cavell was a notorious master thief, and fashionable society was awash with rumor as to his identity. It was believed that he was one among us, and in turn, the elite began to circle on one another and distrust their fellows. The broadsheets had made Cavell into a sort of hero in the eyes of the common folk. He would steal from the rich—especially those who had made their money from slavery and plundering British Colonies. He was believed to be a radical anti-imperialist—one who did not believe in the God-given right of Her Majesty to civilize any foreign territory she desired.
He retook his seat and reached for his glass of Port wine.
“What do you want Cavell?” I sneered.
“To warn you…and I’d be honored to do business with you—”
I was outraged. “I would not do business with the likes of you!” I made to stand up.
“Sit down Benedict. Hear me out.” Cavell said softly. There was intimacy in the way he addressed me. I sat and then unthinking, reached for the glass of Port and took a swallow. Cavell’s eyes lit up as if he had bested me.
“You are long acquainted with the Ardmillan family, are you not?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Stop being obtuse. Answer the question man!”
“Euan and I were friends at university in Edinburgh. But after we graduated we chose diverging paths”, I explained.
“He seems awfully…fond of you at dinner!” Cavell mocked.
I felt my cheeks redden with the hint of innuendo in the impertinent man’s reply.
“In our younger days, we were quite inseparable. But times change… people change.” I said coldly. “This is the first time we have dined together in thirty years.”
“Interesting. I am also…acquainted with him. I’d wager it is in a similar way to you!”
Was Cavell telling me that he too was one of Euan’s many lovers? My stomach knotted at the thought of it. I recalled feeling the constant disappointment and heart-sick pain at being Euan’s dirty secret while at university. I’d longed for a sweetheart to have all to myself. I’d naively believed that he was my beau and I was his one-and-only, but Euan had much wider tastes. His promiscuity became too much and roused the green-eyed-monster in me. I did not like the man I turned me into while loving Euan Ardmillan. I did not like feeling so dependent on his affections for my wellbeing. And I most certainly did not like arriving at the
