As if sensing something was wrong Cavell closed his newspaper. “What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’m to meet a brother in the foyer of the Savoy at eight o’clock tonight. I am to be shown the ropes.”
“What does that mean?”
“I recall that Cavendish mentioned an initiation. I’d quite forgotten. I expect there is some kind of ceremony involving ropes or some such nonsense.” I was not happy about this, not one bit. I had a busy day ahead with a shipment of artifacts arriving for assessment that I was to sell for The House of Osman—the ruling family of the Ottoman Empire.
Cavell sat back in his chair and lit his pipe. He took a few puffs as he said, “I understand that with secret societies, elaborate initiation rituals and ceremonies are quite the done thing.”
I gave Sebastian a gloomy look for his tone was airy and unconcerned, as if he did not take my upcoming initiation seriously at all. His assignment was complete; therefore his part in this business was done. Did he not understand that the level of intimacy expected from Brothers of the Seed was something that made me so uncomfortable my skin began to prickle and burn at the thought of it?
“And there was nothing about Leopold?” Cavell casually added as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.
“Nothing,” My shoulders sagged. “I do believe I am to be set up for a fall.”
“You’ll be fine. You have a story to cover your whereabouts. You can’t be held responsible for the behavior of an aristocratic whipper-snapper set lose in London.”
That was the story we had decided upon, but I would have to deliver it confidently to ensure that the Brothers believed me. I did not possess the acting talent of Sebastian Cavell, and I was concerned I could not lie, especially with Blake’s heterochromatic eyes glaring into my soul.
“Arrgh! This whole damnable affair is a mess!” I roared frustratedly and thumped a fist on the table, making the teacups jump and the cutlery rattle. I felt like a caged animal. I stood abruptly, unable to stomach another bite. I began to pace up and down behind Sebastian’s chair, my face held in a scowl as my mind worked overtime.
“How can I be done with this? I don’t want to be a part of any secret society; I want my quiet life back. I need this bad business to end.”
In a soft voice that cut through my dark thoughts, Sebastian said plainly, “You are in quite the bind. If you inform the police, then you are damning yourself and your reputation. If you partake of their rituals—“
“I will be indulging in congress with many other men and in that, I am not only sinning; I am being untrue to you,” I said, finishing the sentence for him. I hated this—hated that I had at last found a companion who understood me and I was being forced by the threat of exposure to behave like a depraved cad.
I gripped the back of Sebastian’s chair and let out a breath. “I don’t want to share myself with anyone else,” I admitted in a voice that astounded me with its vulnerability. My attachment to Sebastian was so new and wondrously fragile. I did not want anything to break the overwhelming intimacy of our union.
“Neither do I,” Cavell agreed solemnly. “I have enjoyed our time together immensely.” Sebastian turned in his chair and laid his hand upon mine—the only act of closeness we could risk now that my servants were back in residence.
“Someone told them of my…inclinations. The Brother’s know about me, maybe about us. Spies at my club, maybe, or someone watching the house?”
“Could any of your servants have told of the many visitations from Foxford Robbins?”
“No!” I said in exasperation. “They would not betray me!” I prided myself on being a good, kind employer. I paid well and even gave my servants time off for holy days. There was no reason for any to betray me. But now Cavell had said it, the seeds of doubt were firmly planted in my mind.
The night of the first ritual, when the drugged Absinthe pushed my mind off its axis—all I had was Cavell’s word for what I did and said. My servants had given me looks of concern the following day, but what occurred was never spoken of. Gods, if I behaved inappropriately in front of my servants! I clasped my head in my hands.
“If you do not turn up—” Cavell began, and again I finished his thought.
“They will come for me, either directly or indirectly via the rumor mill. If I ignore further advances they will not permit me to go on with my life as if I had never seen their ritual.”
“I agree. The only way to stop this is to make them go to ground. Make each man doubt; make them fear for their safety and secrets.”
“What do you have in mind?” I could see Cavell’s eyes glitter with the challenge and the cogs working.
“Leave it with me. I say, go to the meeting and do all you are told. Give them your story if they ask of the boy. Take note of any pertinent information—any details of the acolytes that can truly identify those we are not yet sure of. I
