“And so, I decided that because of your connection with Ardmillan, I would find out what sort of man you truly were, and if you were… of a certain nature, would you be agreeable to assisting me with the rouse, and maybe moving on items that come into my possession?”
I harrumphed and gave Sebastian a stern, disgusted look at hearing that. There was no way I would damage the reputation of my auction house by knowingly handling stolen goods.
“Don’t worry dear heart.” Sebastian’s eyes twinkled and he laughed at seeing my look of horror. “I learned very quickly that you are as honest as the day is long. And I discovered I enjoyed watching you. A little too much for my own good!” With that candid admission, we both took a sip of Brandy.
“I know that I should not be saying this out loud, but now I have you in my sights I find I cannot stop talking! Disguised as Josiah, I craved the moment each morning when you walked past me and tossed a copper in my begging cup. I found I could not keep away.”
“Is that so?” Why was it so hot in this room and why was my damnable collar so tight?
“I kept the Josiah ruse going for far longer than I’d planned—and that stormy night that you took Josiah in and let him sleep in your office—I knew then that my feelings for you were not—wholesome. But I couldn’t risk revealing my identity to you.”
“That… was very wise. I would not have been pleased to discover your deceit at that juncture.”
“Indeed. So when Euan Ardmillan posted in The Times about the invitation-only estate sale, I convinced myself that you could play a part in my plan to obtain the Tipu Sultan’s Tiger Head.”
“But I wasn’t on the original invite list for the private auction?”
“Buchanan’s Solicitors really need to improve their security.” Sebastian wagged his brows.
“You became a last-minute addition to the invite list. Then I typed a letter to Lord Euan on Buchanan’s headed notepaper and suggested that selling some of the art collection may lighten his financial burden. I attached a list of prospective auction houses.” Cavell grinned mischievously.
“And I assume Hannan’s was at the top of that list?” I suggested.
“Of course. But it was Euan who created the plan to deceive you.”
“Goodness!” I shook my head. I had no idea Cavell’s hand had been so intimately involved before I even set foot on the Caledonian Sleeper train. Even though I was shocked, this whole plan had been most ingenious. The newspapers made The Gentleman Thief sound like a light-fingered opportunist, but he was nothing of the sort.
“I see you play the long game. I find I am rather impressed.” I admitted. There was near military precision in the planning and implementation of Cavell’s so-called assignments.
In my peaceful study, on a chilly late December afternoon, I sat in companionable silence with my new friend—a man who said he saw me and accepted me as I truly am. A man who had sought me out, and vowed to claim me. If our friendship was to evolve I must accept Sebastian as he is too—intelligent, mischievous, beautiful, and criminal. And so I returned the silent lightning bolts of desire that his eyes fired in my direction. My fingers ached to reach for Sebastian, cup his clean-shaven face, and kiss those full lips until we gasped for breath, but the space between our chairs may as well have been as vast as a canyon. I could not touch him, not in my home with the possibility of discovery.
The mantle clock struck the hour and lost in one another’s eyes, we both near jumped out of our skins.
“Gods, is that the time?” Sebastian announced as he rose from his chair and placed his empty brandy glass on the side table.
“I’m afraid I will have to take your leave… and your clothes! But my dear friend, we shall meet tomorrow evening”.
“We shall?”
“Aye. Remember, you promised me dinner at your club! I’ll be there at seven p.m.” Cavell announced decisively.
I was rather alarmed at the thought of dining publicly with Cavell. “If you would like to dine, we could dine here. Mrs. Twigg is an excellent cook.” I suggested.
“Benedict! Let the poor woman have a night off. And anyway, I’ve always wanted to get my foot inside the door at the Athenaeum Club!”
The Athenaeum
Wednesday 29th December 1897
I found my once quiet and controlled life was suddenly no longer in my control. Cavell had put a spell on me with the offer of friendship, which was alluring enough to make me leave the house after dark. I was to dine with my new ‘friend’ at my club, and so I donned my finest dinner suit and full of nerves, left my house.
At six-thirty p.m. my carriage pulled up outside The Athenaeum Club at number 107 Pall Mall. The building was Neoclassical in style. The grand, meticulous architecture and the design of the interiors were the envy of lesser gentlemen’s clubs. As I passed under the Doric portico I looked up, tipping my hat respectfully to Athena, the gilded statue of the classical goddess of wisdom who kept watch above the entrance.
The Athenaeum private members club was a distinctly male domain, and when I entered the foyer the smell of cigar smoke, coffee, and masculinity that filled my nostrils always girded my loins and made me feel at home. The club was specifically for men with intellectual interests, which suited me very much. I enjoyed many conversations with
