One Sweet Moment – Chapter three

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Chapter three

On the day in question, Arthur and Eames ensured that all preparations that were required of them were complete well before they were expected at Alverstoke House.

“Would you stop fidgeting, darling?” Eames said, flicking the cards he held from one hand to another.

“I can’t help it.” Arthur replied, tapping his foot a few more times before leaping up from his chair and going to the window to look out. “I hate waiting like this. I just want to get on with it.”

“Five hours, Arthur.” Eames reminded him, amused at the signs of agitation in his usually much less flappable lover. “You’re going to wear yourself out before we even get there, and then where will we be?

“I will not wear myself out. Stop being ridiculous.” Arthur said flatly. “Don’t you think these windows need cleaning? I’ll just pop down and get some supplies from the Dalliards. It can’t hurt to get it done while we wait.”

“Wait,” Eames reached out and grabbed his valet as he went past. “You think it won’t hurt for the gossip to get around that the Earl of Hatherleigh’s extremely dignified valet, a gentleman’s gentleman of the first stare, takes to cleaning windows to amuse himself?”

“Are you concerned more for my reputation or for yours?” Arthur asked him waspishly, but made no move to free himself from Eames grasp.

“Do you think I’m bothered even one iota what anyone thinks of me, so long as we are left alone?” Eames said softly. “Our best disguise is in anonymity, you know that. Not so long ago you were reminding me of this. So long as we seem to be like everyone else, no one cares what we do. You can clean as many windows as you choose darling, just don’t get the supplies downstairs.”

“The Dalliards know better than to gossip. They get paid enough for their silence.” Arthur replied, but without conviction. His voice had lost a lot of it’s heat. He no longer sounded as tightly wound, so Eames released him, carefully smoothing down the creases his hands had made in the fabric of his shirt.

“Look,” said Eames in as cajoling a manner as he could. “Why don’t we just find something else to do to occupy our time?”

Arthur gave him a penetrating look that changed into comprehension rather quickly. His dimples flashed briefly before he got a hold of them, but Eames had been watching for them and crowed with success.

“Come on then, love!” He beamed as he gently herded his suddenly more malleable lover towards the bedroom. “Let’s use that energy for something positive!”

“Unlike cleaning windows?” But Arthur wasn’t even trying to conceal his grin any more. “Don’t go thinking that I can be placated with sex all the time, Mr Eames.”

“Of course not, darling.” Eames replied soothingly as they both began undressing. “I wouldn’t think of it, honestly. Would I lie to you?”

“You tell Banbury stories all the time.” Arthur retorted, relaxing back to watch his Lord finish disrobing. “I know better than to believe anything you say without at least two pieces of corroborating evidence.”

“Such a harsh denunciation of my character, darling.” Eames affected a look of sadness, which was ruined by the leer that crossed his face when he saw Arthur waiting for him. “However shall I cope? You may need to comfort me.”

“That’s what we’re calling it these days, is it?” Arthur grabbed one hand and jerked Eames onto the bed with him. “Come here, my Lord, and let’s see how I can be of service to you this evening, shall we?”

Without waiting for an answer, Arthur dove in for a kiss, groaning as Eames took control and held his face in two large hands so that it could be plundered.

“Does my Lord wish for control then?” he gasped, as that talented mouth descended to his collarbone, nipping and sucking. Eames growled in response, the sound a vibration that set Arthur’s nerves racing. Eames had a thing about being called ‘my Lord’ in bed, and Arthur didn’t often indulge him.

But rather than the vigorous ravishing that Arthur expected in response, the blonde head was raised and blue eyes met his, dark with hunger and something underlying it that was softer. Something that remained unnamed between them.

“I wish for whatever you chose you grant me.” Eames said, and his face was as serious as Arthur had ever seen it. Their next kiss was slower, softer, and this time neither of them closed their eyes.

When it finished, they rested their foreheads together for a few moments.

“So, am I going to get laid, or are we going to sit here like giant mush balls for the next five hours?” Arthur felt a bit giddy, and was sure that he sounded as awkward as the words felt, but it made Eames smile.

Before he knew it, he was being rolled around on the bed.

“Oh, if you insist, Arthur darling. If you insist.” And then they were kissing and play-wrestling and laughing. Eames got his sneaky fingers down to Arthur’s — not ticklish, thank you very much — sides and had him howling until a stray flail of his foot caused his knee to catch Eames in the stomach, knocking the air out of him in a big ‘whuff’.

Arthur hovered over his wheezing lover uncertainly.

“Well aimed, darling.” Eames congratulated him when he’d stopped gasping for air. “Not all that much lower and you would have rid yourself of my attentions for some considerable time.”

“Don’t be absurd.” Arthur scolded, feeling relieved at Eames’ good humour at the situation. “Your ‘attentions’ are the only reason I stay in this stupid town. Over the years you have bestowed more than sufficient largesse upon me, and at any time I might retire to a small cottage in an out of the way part of the country and live out my life as gentleman gardener.”

“If you did so, it would cause me immeasurable distress, but I wouldn’t try to stop you.” Eames said, serious once more.

“Of course it would cause you distress.” Arthur replied, and felt as his face twisted slightly for the briefest of moments, displaying the pain that he tried desperately not to show. “You’d never be able to lure a valet of my skills to your service again.”

Eames stared at him for a moment.

Arthur was reminded suddenly that for all his light-hearted manner and larrikin-like behaviour, Eames was one of the most astute beings he had ever known. In that moment he realised that Eames had seen something in his tone or face, that Arthur had finally revealed too much.

That he had revealed that which he had managed to keep a secret for so long now.

He averted his eyes, unwilling to see the knowledge dawn on that beloved face. Unwilling to see the rejection that would follow, to see Eames draw back from him. The start of everything changing, everything he had built himself around.

This had never been part of their arrangement, after all.

The pleasures of the flesh ultimately meant nothing at all. It had been convenience that had drawn them together so often, and now Arthur had revealed a devastating weakness to the one person in the universe who could use it to hurt him the most. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to recover from this.

He resisted when two strong, capable, hands tried to gently turn his face so that Eames could meet his gaze.

“Oh, darling.”

Arthur had never heard Eames voice so soft, so tender, so pained.

He involuntarily looked over to ensure there was nothing wrong, the habits of a lifetime, and was caught by the love in those familiar eyes. A smile he had never seen, not once in all the time they had been together, was curving those kissable lips.

“Arthur, darling. I thought you knew.”

Arthur let himself be drawn forward, and there was the softest touch of lips upon his own. Then they were in each other’s arms, holding each other tightly as if they would never let go.

There was an unfamiliar feeling inside, like he was overfull. Like he was a balloon with too much air inside, bursting at it’s seams.

Maybe Eames finding out wasn’t going to be so awful after all. Maybe the fact that everything was going to change was not such a bad thing. Maybe things could get even better.

Eames was murmuring in his ear, soft words of love and devotion, and sorrow for ever causing him pain.

When they finally released each other, they were wearing almost identical sheepish expressions.

“What in the world gave you the impression that I knew?” Arthur asked, familiar exasperation rearing its head.

“Darling, how could you not know?” Eames returned. “If I were any more obvious, I would be taking out an advertisement in The London Chronicle. How could there ever be anyone else to compare? Of course I love you, you old stick in the mud. You’re everything, the only reason I can think of to keep going.”

Arthur felt himself choking on the flood of emotion. They were going to have a long talk about this later. Probably much later given that they were shortly going out to put themselves in the path of murderous villains, but in the meantime…

“I love you too, you know,” he said, and then rolled over until he was straddling a very pleased looking Eames. “And I think there’s been enough talking for the moment, don’t you?”

With that he joined their mouths together in a kiss that quickly went from heated to scorching. Four hands were roaming, fingernails leaving red marks behind, and Arthur broke the kiss to moan feverishly when a slick finger (where had the oil come from?) rubbed at his entrance before entering him in one smooth push.

One finger became two, and then three. Arthur relished the burn of not quite enough preparation, moving in accompaniment with those fingers as teeth scored his shoulder lightly, adding to the build up of sensations as he rubbed his aching cock against a strongly muscled thigh.

Then Eames was positioning Arthur above his cock. He threw his head back as he was gradually lowered onto the slick length. When Eames made no move to start thrusting, Arthur opened his eyes to see what was wrong, only to find that Eames eyes were raking over his naked body, stretched out on his cock, with a look that could start a forest fire.

Eames hands stroked gently up and down Arthur’s thighs while they remained otherwise immobile, just breathing as they looked at each other.

Arthur was the first to break. Still holding Eames gaze, he clenched his internal muscles and then slowly rose and fell on Eames thick hardness, feeling it rub over that one spot inside that made him gasp. He felt his nipples pebble and his skin broke out in a light sweat in reaction, but he ignored that and slowly did it again.

Eames eyes were almost black with lust. He was trembling with the effort it was taking him to not just thrust upwards. To hold down those hips and just bury his cock to the hilt in that welcoming heat, again and again and again.

Arthur flashed his dimples, fully aware that they were one of Eames’ trigger points, and leaned back a bit, making Eames rub against his internal walls more firmly, including the place inside that he was aiming for. He didn’t bother to stifle his moans as he leisurely fucked himself on the hard cock penetrating him. His body splayed out, fully on display and loving it.

He teasingly ran one hand up his torso, tweaking one nipple, then the other, clenching tightly as the sensations his fingers evoked rippled through him. His own neglected cock jerking with each twist.

Eames let out a strangled groan, and thrust upwards almost involuntarily, shoving in hard right against the sweet spot, and Arthur gave a startled cry as pleasure rushed through him.

“Again,” he gasped as he writhed on the shaft deep inside him, trying to get more contact right where he wanted it. “Do it again, Eames, please!”

And Eames was only too happy to obey.

He grabbed Arthur by the hips and held him up as he withdrew almost completely and then thrust back in powerfully. His eyes were blown wide and his mouth was open slightly, moist and inviting looking.

Arthur wished for a moment that he had the co-ordination to lean over and kiss those lips, then another hard thrust had all thoughts flying from his head. leaving only the need for more, more, right there.

“Touch yourself,” the hoarse request took some time to percolate Arthur’s awareness. “Darling, please, touch yourself. I want to see you come for me.”

This request was accompanied by an increase in strength of the hands bringing him down against the wonderful cock inside him. Arthur was inclined to be compliant, so long as the amazing fucking that he was on the receiving end of continued, building him higher and higher towards a peak he had never reached before.

His right hand moved down to his own length, which by now had leaked so much he required nothing further to ease the slide of his hand up and down as it jumped in his grasp.

The combination of Eames’ cock pounding up into him and his hand firmly stroking his own length was soon too much. Arthur felt his balls drawing up and his whole body going into spasm. He opened his eyes wide and watched Eames watching him as he came and came and came, fluid spilling out over his hand and onto Eames.

Even as he was coming the fucking continued.

Just as he was starting to come down from the best high he’d ever achieved, Eames went rigid beneath him and pulled him down hard on his cock, holding him there as he jerked through his orgasm.

Arthur collapsed over his panting, sweating lover for once unconcerned about the mess. “That… was incredible,” he rasped out when he had his breath back sufficiently to speak without his words hitching. His body was trembling slightly in the aftermath, and he buried his face into Eames neck to hide his expression, a habit acquired long ago to keep Eames from seeing his face when he was emotionally vulnerable.

Eames stroked his hair and then his back. Long sweeping strokes that were soothing and warm, and helped ease the tremors. When Arthur was back under his own control, he lifted his head for a kiss and found Eames looking at him so fondly that something turned over in his stomach.

“Arthur, my darling,” he murmured after their kiss and a nuzzle of noses. “That was the sweetest moment I have experienced in the entirety of my existence. If all there was for me was that one sweet moment with you, I would be utterly content.”

Arthur only kissed him in reply, and then because he could not help his nature, began to calculate how much time remained before they were due at Berkeley Square.

Eames gave a great laugh and rolled him over again. “We have plenty of time, darling Arthur, and I plan to put it to good use.”

v^v^v^v

As with all plans, no matter how well laid, this one didn’t survive first contact with the enemy.

Firstly, Lethbridge chose to abduct the young daughter of Mary, one of the more intelligent upstairs maids, and he managed to frighten her sufficiently that she felt she could place no reliance on the Marquis being able to return her daughter to her.

Mary was able to tell that some sort of substitution had been made. After the realisation that the Master knew of the plot and may therefore have the higher servants watching the lower ones, she set up Bess, one of the younger maids, as the chief suspect.

It was quite easy, really. First she mentioned to the rather highly strung young woman that she was being watched by the butler. Then, when the poor girl began showing signs of stress, Mary made sure to point her out to the butler, mentioning that she was worried that Bess was in some sort of trouble.

While the household surreptitiously watched an increasingly distraught Bess, Mary was discovering that meals were being sent into Wicken’s quarters, despite his presence elsewhere in the house.

It was a simple matter after that to get a message out to Lord Lethbridge.

From then on the plan that had been so carefully devised began to work against them.

Those watching had been instructed to let the men carrying Tim Dally away escape, hoping to be led to the larger group and the mastermind of the whole thing.

Lethbridge, at this point aware that his plan had been discovered, had covered his tracks by the use of three barrels of oil which were set alight in strategic locations that stopped horse drawn carriages from following him.

The time taken to put out all three fires gave Lethbridge enough of a head-start that by the time the pursuers from Berkeley Square had got to the rendezvous point, the one Arthur had been watching, Lethbridge and his men were long gone. And so was Arthur.

The two men of the security force were able to tell them some of what had happened.

v^v^v^v

“Here! Jimmy, someone’s over here!”

Damn, Arthur thought savagely to himself, signalling to the others to stay back as at least four pistols pointed in his direction.

He could easily escape. These were hardly difficult opponents, but as he currently had no idea what had happened over in Berkeley Square and since these fellows were likely to be on the lookout now, the best way to ensure the safety of both Tim Dally and the servant’s child was to either ingratiate himself with them or allow himself to be captured, and hope everyone would end up at the same place.

Again giving the signal to stay put, he moved out of hiding.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t nearly as good at charming people as Eames was. Within a short amount of time he was tied, badly, to a chair in a small shed nearby while Jimmy, who appeared to be nominally in charge, supervised a rather shoddy job of ‘working him over for information’. They wanted to know who he was and what he was doing there.

This part Arthur was good at.

He carefully waited until it would be convincing before he told them that he was Lord Eames’ most valued servant. That Eames wanted in on the pot, which is why he was here, to get blackmail material. Lord Eames trusted him so much because they had known each other since boyhood.

He could see the greed light up the eyes of those men surrounding him, and made a show of begging for his life, promising that his Lord would pay handsomely for his return.

“How do we know he’s telling the truth, then?” Jimmy asked suspiciously. His companions were too charmed by the prospect of making even more money to heed him, and before too long Arthur had been bundled into the waiting town coach. Unfortunately the coat of arms on the door had been covered, but even in the dark he recognised one of the horses, a dark bay with two distinctive white stockings. So Lord Lethbridge was using his own carriage and horses then?

He had been hoping to be able to track their progress through London, but one of the group had clearly just enough brains to knock him out, so it was with an aching head that he finally awoke.

He was in a dimly lit warehouse that by the echoing sounds was over half empty. The rank odour of the Thames coupled with a smell that reminded him a great deal of molasses told him his likely location well enough. The tobacco warehouses at the London Docks might be fairly new, but it hadn’t taken them long to become infamous as a place for ne’er-do-wells to gather.

Just out of sight but not out of hearing range, he could hear a conversation between some of the less intelligent members of the group. Now he just had to locate Tim and the child.

Arthur considered removing his bindings (which were loose and left his arms and hands with far too much movement to be effective) but decided that it might be better to play dead (or unconscious anyway) for a while and see if he could get any useful information.

“Who talked to the wrong people?” That was Mr Brown, (or Lethbridge, apparently), and he was NOT in a good mood. “They had a decoy, Bobby, a decoy. That means that they were expecting us. None of us are safe now, and the sooner we get rid of the two brats the better. We need to get out of here, I am not going to hang for this!”

Arthur’s heart froze. Decoy? Brats? Had the counter-plan been discovered? Shit, did that mean that they had taken Edward after all?

Lethbridge was smart, too smart to hold on to two children that could implicate him if they were ever found. There would be no ransom. This had gone beyond that now. The timeline had moved drastically forward, and Arthur was the only one here.

“But if we kill them now, how will we get our money?”

Quickly ditching the ropes, Arthur moved backwards and around some crates that were stacked haphazardly, and towards an opening he could see in the far wall. Had those idiots just dumped him without any sort of way to keep him in place, aside from the rope and the badly done bindings?

The conversation behind him was heating up further.

Lethbridge was all for dumping the children there and then and cutting their losses.

Prendergast, who from what Arthur could hear had financed the whole operation, was objecting, hoping to still get the windfall he had been promised.

Arthur had just reached the entrance he could see when there was the sound of a gunshot behind him.

Cursing the distance he had already put between himself and the two aristocrats, Arthur wavered for a moment. He’d been hoping to find someone who would take a message to Alverstoke House before going back to try and rescue the children. Right now he didn’t know who the survivor was.

Mentally swearing at Lethbridge, Prendergast, Jimmy, and Eames, (whose fault all of this surely was), Arthur made his way back over to where the action was taking place. This time, he approached from the other side in case they decided to search for him. What on earth possessed them to conduct their highly illegal business right out in the centre of the open space like that?

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it was Lethbridge, rather than Prendergast, currently bleeding out on the floor. Prendergast wasn’t the one holding the pistol though.

It seemed that the new person in charge was Jimmy.

“-Jimmy,” Prendergast was saying desperately, “we can’t just leave him to bleed out here, he’s a Viscount! We’ll be hanged!”

“That little bleeder we just done kidnapping is the heir of a Marquis.” Jimmy snapped. “You didn’t have no problems putting him down the nearest well, and iffn we want to get paid for this here nights work, Lethbridge had to go. Right queered our pitch, he would have, and no mistake!

“But what shall we do now?” Prendergast said, watching with morbid fascination as Lethbridge gasped out his last few breaths.

“We drop Lethbridge’s plan from here on out, for all we know whoever squeaked beef whiddled the whole scrap. First things first, we get away from here. We take one of these here boats across the river, make for a nice wee spot I knows of in Mint Lane. After that, we sit pretty for a few days until the whole thing quiets down a bit, and while we wait we can go over how we’re going to get our fambles on the gelt.”

“Right.” Prendergast seemed to pull himself together.

Jimmy headed over to where Arthur had been kept tied, and sure enough, when they did their search they completely ignored the area to the other side of where he had been stashed. Arthur was torn between delight at how easy they were making this for him, and disgust at the slip-shod nature of the whole operation.

While they were searching, he had a look at the boats available. Taking a chance, he secreted himself aboard the one they were most likely to pick, given their numbers, and waited for the hue and cry to die down.

“Looks like he piked on the bean.” Jimmy said with some satisfaction. “Awright then, let’s get these two fat geese onto the boat. How much longer are they going to be out for, anyway?”

“I have not the slightest notion!” Prendergast replied with some irritation as he directed some of his men in the placement of the children. “That was Lethbridge’s bailiwick, not mine!”

“No matter.” Jimmy shrugged. “Iffn it takes a while, it’ll just make ’em easier to move. Oi! You lot! Get over here, we’re casting off in a cats whisker!”

Arthur remained curled up in a space he had found between some barrels and crates, covered with an extremely smelly damp cloth of some sort. He shuddered at the thought of so much disgusting material making contact with his skin and silently resolved to burn everything he was wearing as soon as he got the chance.

He wondered briefly what Eames was doing, before he brought his attention back to the matter at hand.

The news that the children had been sedated was rather unwelcome. The chances of him being able to carry both of them to safety at the same time were very slim indeed.

v^v^v^v

Eames was almost frantic with worry that he was trying desperately to conceal. The security force had tailed Arthur’s captors to the London Docks, but by the time they had arrived everyone was already gone.

Aside from Lethbridge, of course, but Eames could summon no sympathy for him. By now the upstairs maid, Mary, had been discovered as Lethbridge’s unwilling accomplice. Some of the things Lethbridge had promised her would happen to her daughter if she breathed a word were so foul and disgusting Eames couldn’t find it in his heart to blame her for what she had done.

At this point, Eames was holding onto hope that Arthur was still with the kidnappers, and still mobile and able to act when the time came.

v^v^v^v

When the boat docked again, Arthur stayed aboard until all sounds of movement and transportation had ceased. He knew the way to Mint Street, he and Eames had spent many a long day driving through London and learning her secrets.

Now he just needed to find someone who would carry a message to Eames and Alverstoke to let them know where they needed to be.

He took off his left boot and unscrewed the detachable heel, removing two of the three guineas within. Two should do it, but he had another three in the other shoe (no one ever thought to remove a prisoners shoes, it was shameful) and that should suffice him on the off chance that this gambit didn’t work.

It didn’t take him long to spy a sturdy looking man in neat, if a trifle threadbare, working clothes making his way across Tooly Street in the near distance. Arthur approached the man carefully, calling out to him when he was a little closer.

Given the man’s reaction to being hailed, he must look a complete fright, Arthur thought ruefully. Luckily he had money and that made him less threatening to what appeared to be a labourer of some sort.

It didn’t take Arthur long to convince the man use the money to take a carriage to Berkeley Square and give his message to either Alverstoke or his wife. He assured the man that he would be rewarded generously by whoever received the message, and then watched him depart towards the High Street, where a hackney was more likely to be waiting at this time of night.

That was the direction Arthur needed to go in too but first he stopped for a few minutes to consider his options, keeping in mind his slightly battered condition.

Given that he couldn’t be certain that the man he’d sent the Berkeley Square wouldn’t immediately run off with the money, he had to go forward as if he was on his own and expected to stay that way.

With that in mind, Arthur circled around and approached Mint Street from another direction, using the buildings either side of the very narrow Duke Street as cover.

Sure enough, there was activity going on in the square opposite. It wasn’t difficult even from where he was hidden to see which building they were using as a temporary headquarters. The single guard they left on watch looked far more enthusiastic than competent.

Arthur was continually shocked that such an amateurish bunch of rank bad hats had managed to achieve anything, let alone the successful kidnapping of a peer’s son.

Lethbridge must have truly been the brains of the outfit.

Debating with himself for a moment on whether he should leave the guard or incapacitate him now, Arthur eventually decided that one less to deal with was likely a good thing, considering he was currently solo. As far as weapons go, the only things he still had on him were the stilettos in his boots, but they would be fine for this job.

Feeling ridiculously melodramatic — this was the sort of thing Eames would love — Arthur carefully moved ever closer to the guard, who now seemed to be listening intently to what was going on inside.

In one quick movement, Arthur covered the man’s mouth and thrust the dagger up between his shoulder blades, unerringly finding the heart. The guard would have collapsed, but Arthur lowered him gently and arranged him to look like he was sleeping in the doorway.

Then, choosing one of the upstairs windows that was already open, he climbed the rough brick surface and shimmied through the opening, dropping lightly to his feet on the other side.

From here he could hear another altercation going on downstairs, which was to his advantage as it would help hide any sound he was likely to make traversing an unfamiliar building in the dark. The room he was currently in was rather dusty, and his greatest challenge while finding the stairs was ensuring that he didn’t sneeze.

He crept down the stairs and close to the door where the light and sound were coming from. Multiple checks of his surroundings showed that there was no one stationed in other parts of the house, so he made it to the door with no further encounters.

Gently, and slowly, he eased open the door, wincing when, despite his best efforts, the handle squeaked as he released it. Arthur held his breath, but it appeared no one had heard.

Prendergast and Jimmy were having another disagreement, it seemed.

The two children, Edward and a girl of maybe seven or eight, were huddled together in a corner directly across the room, trying not to draw attention to themselves.

Arthur could see three men present aside from the two arguing. That left at least one more somewhere, possibly more. Arthur stole another glance at the children. They both looked terrified, but he couldn’t see any evidence of injury on them. The reason for their terror was soon apparent.

“No, Jimmy, there’s no reason to hurt them yet, not until we’re ready to send the letter!” Prendergast had put himself between the children and Jimmy, who was wearing a rather ugly expression on his face.

The three other men, currently standing between Arthur and the children, were looking between the two of them expectantly, like punters at a boxing match.

Jimmy gave a parody of a smile. “No need to be so squeamish. They’ll be cocking up their toes right and proper before much more time goes by. Look at you, ready to cast up your accounts just at the idea! Just know, Baronet Prendergast, if you so much as think of tipping me the double or coming crab over me, I’m a cove as is up to slum and it ain’t a good idea to cross me!”

By the look on Prendergast’s face he was remembering Lethbridge bleeding out in front of him.

Arthur certainly was.

“Now,” Jimmy continued in slightly calmer tones. “We don’t need the girl no more, so maybe it’s time to send her home to roost, see? And after the way the cat’s been at the cream pot, I feel like a bit of slice and dice to settle me down.”

“Oh, very well.” Prendergast said, sounding resigned and disgusted.

At this point both Edward and the girl broke out into loud sobs which was just the distraction Arthur needed.

While everyone was looking the other way, Arthur quietly entered and half a minute later two more men had been removed from the situation.

The third caused a bit more trouble. He must have seen something out of the corner of his eye, so Arthur was unable to dispatch him silently. In the end Arthur resorted to a killing blow to the face when he saw the man was armed with a cudgel.

Jimmy and Prendergast had turned at this point, both raising pistols in his direction.

Arthur decided to take a gamble. He dashed in between them, hesitating for a second as if unsure which way to go before launching himself up to grab onto one of the low ceiling beams. He grinned when he heard two pistol shots beneath, followed by two thumps.

He landed back on the floor in a crouch and glanced swiftly around, only to find that he had been correct in his first count and that everyone was dead or dying.

Aside from the children, of course.

Ignoring the groaning men behind him, Arthur went straight over to where Edward and the girl were staring at him, no longer crying.

“Hello, Edward,” Arthur said in as friendly a manner as possible. “Why don’t you introduce me to your friend?”

“My name is Sarah.” The girl said as Edward recognised Arthur and threw himself into his rescuers arms. “Are you here to rescue us mister? Please don’t hurt us! We’ll be good, promise!”

“A message has been sent to Berkeley Square.” Arthur told them both gently. “Lord Alverstoke will no doubt be along shortly along with various others. Let’s leave here for a while, just in case there are any more of them.”

He didn’t need to elaborate who ‘them’ was. Both children followed him obediently, although how far he could take them was limited by the fact that they weren’t wearing shoes or proper outer gear. Hopefully Eames would be along any moment so there was no point in going too far.

Arthur took them across the square and broke into a building there carefully, hiding with Edward and Sarah just on the other side of the door so that he could see any movement in the place they had just left.

“Shhh,” He said to the children huddled up to him. “We must be as quiet as we possibly can until help arrives.”

And they settled in to wait.

v^v^v^v

Arthur was just starting to despair that the man he had given his money to had just taken it without passing on his message, when he heard the sound of several carriages approaching.

They stopped in the square outside, and Arthur listened intently for any indication as to whether these new players were friend or foe, when he heard a voice say, “This is where ‘e tole me t’tell you t’come, mister, an’ ‘e said you’d give me the money.”

And then Alverstoke’s voice responding, “You have done well, and here is the reward that was promised to you.”

Before the Marquis had finished his sentence, Arthur had gathered up the two children and had begun moving out of hiding and towards the square. The jostling as he moved them caused them both to awaken, and he was proud of how silent they were even as they looked up at him fearfully, their eyes shining like opals in the small amount of light available.

“Come now, Edward, Sarah,” this time he made no effort to keep his voice down, as they approached the carriages and the stamping horses and the men surrounding both. “Your parents have come. Just as I said they would.” And the feeling of joy it gave him to see their faces light up could have lit a bonfire.

Arthur was engulfed in a feeling of victory. All of a sudden he felt as though he could walk a hundred miles more, damaged body or no. He handed both children over to their frantic parents and grinned recklessly over at where Eames was standing, looking as if he wanted to do nothing more than devour him.

By all that was wonderful, this was a glorious night!

v^v^v^v

It took all of Eames’ self control not to grasp Arthur to him, to use his hands in the inspection of every inch of that beloved body, to insure no lasting harm had come to him. He had to be content with a swift visual inspection, and the rather feeble hope that Arthur’s demeanour was an indication of his general health and well being.

For Arthur’s eyes were alight with success and his dimples were on full view of the entire company.

Young Edward and Sarah may have been reunited with their parents, but Arthur was still holding sway over them, as well.

“He hit two of them and they just fell down! And he hit the man with the stick in the face, Mama!” said one small voice that carried clearly in the night. “And when two other men came after him with pistols, he did something really neat and then they shot each other!”

Arthur’s whole body was telegraphing how pleased he was with how things had ended up, and Eames had to agree that getting two of the scoundrels to shoot each other was a masterful way to tie up some loose ends.

All of a sudden the desire to fuck Arthur into the ground rushed over him. Those brilliant eyes, that reckless laugh… Arthur must have seen it on him because he came over to stand beside him, ostensibly to give a confidential report.

He leaned over so his mouth was close to Eames ear, his body radiating so much heat that Eames could feel it through two layers of clothing.

“When we get home I’m going to tie you to the bed.” Arthur said, his voice low and quiet and doing nothing to quell Eames’ desire. “And then I’m going to tease and torment you, and when I’m finally done playing I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t remember your own name.”

Eames was extremely glad of the cold night and the overcoat he was wearing, otherwise he would have been broadcasting his state to everyone present.

As it was, Alverstoke raised one eyebrow at him, flicking his eyes between them before offering the two of them both a grin and his hand for shaking. His other arm was wrapped around his wife and son, the small boy clinging to his mother like he would never let go.

“Thank you both, so very much.” The Marchioness said, her voice catching and her eyes brimming with gratitude. “If there is anything we can ever do for you, either of you, you have only to ask.”

Alverstoke nodded his agreement, a sly smile still on his lips. “Come now, Frederica, let’s take Edward and Sarah home to bed. Charles has agreed to take care of everything until tomorrow, when we can get the matter tied up properly.” And he turned his wife and son towards his waiting carriage, nodding to the footman standing at their heads.

Curry was sitting on the box and waited until the order to carry on was given from inside the carriage to get the horses moving.

Then the Marquis of Alverstoke and his family were headed away from Mint Street, back towards Southwark Bridge and home.

Eames turned to his somewhat battered but otherwise triumphant valet. “Shall we, then?” He asked, stopping himself from the habitual ‘darling’ just in time.

“We shall.” Arthur replied, and after giving assurances that they would be available the next day, they left the capable Charles Trevor to deal with the aftermath of what had turned out to be a very eventful night.

The End