Brian Kinney Talbot 4th Baron Talbot of Malahide, 1st Baron Talbot de Malahide was relieved to get home after having been away for more than fifteen months. Even though English weather had caught up with him tonight and it seemed that the rain had seeped through all his layers until it had reached his skin, he was glad to be back on English soil. His household was prepared for his comings and goings but generally speaking he was gone too often for the house to be called home. But as is the case in well-run homes of the nobility he was greeted at his door by his butler, Jenkins and by the time he reached his chamber the bath was being drawn by one of the upstairs maids. Lord Talbot’s position in society was such that he could freely gain entrance into the best of the London Ton but the observation remained that there were not too many members of society that would notice his often, long absences. He was highly sought after being of a virtuous, though unfortunately Irish, noble lineage. He was by no means poor, quite the contrary in fact. Lord Talbot had increased his family’s fortune considerably since he had inherited. Although to be accurate none of them benefited from this rise to riches as he had not seen or heard from them since he was a child. As Brian relaxed in the first hot, clean bath he had had in some time he pondered whether he would be revealing the information that he had picked up whilst he was in France, to his superiors. It was difficult business sorting out what was important from what could be mere gossip. On top of all this he had to separate all his knowledge into nuggets so as to leak a suitable amount of information to each of the four men. It was one of the ways he had come up with to find the mole that was obviously hidden amongst them. There was no other way to explain how the French had managed to capture Freddie Cullingham upon his arrival in Calais. Luckily he had managed to uncover Cullingham’s location and organise a rescue although it had taken him close to a year or more. Freddie would be arriving within a week via alternative transport, being slightly damaged from his long period of confinement. It was a well-known fact that the French were not the best of hosts. Well, not when they were interrogating an English spy but hopefully he would recover. Brian could hardly fathom how a poor country boy from Ireland had come to be spying for the English crown. He could place the blame firmly at Robert’s feet. Robert Wogan Talbot had been his predecessor and being so devoted to his King and country had had no interest in marrying or producing an heir. So as a solution to this he had placed his trust in finding some distant Irish relative to whom he could entrust his title. He still remembered Lord Talbot’s disgust at seeing the disrepair into which his father had let their manor fall. But he had been a boy of eight strong and proud and though he would have firmly denied it and knocked out anyone who told him so, quite beautiful. Already having taken the brunt of his father’s alcoholic rages, bitterness and beatings for too long he had never been more grateful to be whisked away from home into a new life. In England he was brought up to be the perfect little Lording. He was polished and educated to within an inch of his life and he knew that when in public no one could fault him for his perfect manners. He was just proud enough and arrogant enough to make him dark and alluring rather than disdainful. He was handsome and he could out shoot anyone who cared to test him. He was noble and rich enough to be interesting but too Irish to be marriageable, which suited him perfectly. He was also a member of “The Elite” - a certain club with a very select clientele that catered to the gentlemen who took their liberties there. This gentlemen’s club was not one of the ordinary ones, which could be found in the better parts of London - clubs where rich men went to eat and drink and escape the tedium of married life in the company of other like-minded men. The men that could be found at “The Elite” were not all necessarily rich or well educated but within that secure building they all catered “to their country” rather than to their own needs. It was disguised as a gentlemen’s club after the fashion of White’s, yet what went on inside had less to do with drinking and socialising and more to do with politics - Brian’s politics. As Robert’s heir he had inherited more than the average London gossip was aware of. He had inherited “The Elite”. Only a very select few knew of its’ existence; the King and his most trusted advisors, the Loyal Four and most of the people who worked for Brian. He was in the business of providing information and he was the best in the business. It was what he had been brought up and trained to do. He lived and breathed politics, offence and defence, intrigue and strategy and he was brilliant at it. Now all he needed was a few hours of uninterrupted sleep, and to organise his report and then to decide upon his next move. His correspondence, which had been seriously neglected of late, would have to wait until the morrow but until then he needed sleep. ………………………… It was still raining. It shouldn’t surprise him but it seemed that when it rained in the city its effects were far worse than when you encountered it in the clear air of the country. He had returned to the house a scant few hours ago, although some would argue that it was early the next morning rather than late in the evening. His neighbours must have seen him arrive the day before for the invitations had already started to pour in. Sometimes the speed at which society gossip spread impressed even him, who felt so jaded by the world that at times he felt nothing could surprise him. He pondered this whilst attempting to strengthen his resolve to tackle the mound of letters that awaited him on his desk, when he heard a disturbance in the hall. He really must remember to shut the door of his study he thought briefly. He got up to do so but not without managing to overhear part of the conversation going on at the main door. “I said the Baron is not in residence. If this pertains to household matters you would do well to take it round to the back entrance.” Jenkins’ booming and authoritative voice rang out across the open marble reception. “You do not understand. I must speak to him at once. I have an urgent message for him.” This voice was new to him. He had most definitely never heard it before, young and fervent in its’ demands, yet not harsh. He was curious although it is to be said that curiosity was an inherent part of his nature and a most useful quality in his line of work. “Sir, you may leave the message with me or call back at a more suitable time of day. It is not proper to receive calls at this hour,” Jenkins informed their late night intruder, as if he were teaching an obstinate child a lesson. “I think it is you who do not understand the urgency of my request. Even though I am from the country, therefore quite a heathen, knowing nothing of what is proper and what is not, I must assure you that I highly doubt visiting another gentleman at any time of day or night would be cause for alarm. I most definitely am not some young, innocent maid whose virtue is at risk.” Brian’s eyebrow rose at that statement and he leaned against the door of his study with a smirk. “Tell his Lordship that I have urgent news of his wife and that there is a matter of great importance he must deal with.” At this Brian tensed and walked out into the open to greet his intrusive guest. His first impression was that of a very wet and alien form of indefinable age or presence and he thought to himself that it was quite rude to keep a man out in this extraordinary thunderstorm. “I am Lord Talbot.” He said. The figure looked up but it was too dark to see anything under his wet hat and cloak. “Your Lordship, I have a letter from your late wife. I am Justin Taylor. May I come in? We have much to discuss.” He made sure that his face did not purvey any emotions at this statement but Jenkins must have realised something was amiss for he immediately held out his arms so as to take this strangers’ wet hat and cloak. “Will someone see to my horse and saddle bags? We have come a long way and he is tired.” The stranger continued as he slowly and carefully removed his cloak. Jenkins replied “Of course sir. At once.” “Thank you.” Brian led the gentleman into his study and shut the door behind him. He studied this stranger for a moment and then opened the door and requested some hot refreshments to be brought. Mr Justin Taylor, he had introduced himself as - he looked a sorry sight and much too young, drowning in his sopping cloak as he had been, to be riding from Ingstone to London. He turned and walked to sit behind his desk. They had matters to attend to. “My ‘late’ wife you say?” The boy, for without his hat he looked no more than a child of twelve, looked up startled. “I… you did not know? Lady Talbot told me she had sent you letters… that she had been calling for you for months. I did not know that I would be the bearer of such bad tidings.” “What difference does it make either way?” The boy flushed. “I would not have told you in such a manner that your wife had passed My Lord.” He said eyes wide and without guile. “In the end the result and the news would have been the same. Why tarry with the charade of propriety?” “I… I… perhaps you are right,” although it didn’t seem as though he thought as such. Mr Taylor suddenly tensed and started fiddling at his shoulder. It was then that he noticed that he had a sort of sling tied across his chest under his coat. “It is… I have brought your son to you, My Lord.” Brian stood quickly and walked towards him but made no attempt to take the child. He held a boy of around fourteen months, by his calculations in his arms. He was asleep, wrapped up warm and tight and it was obvious that his bearer had gone to great extremes to keep him safe from the weather. He sighed and instead of returning to his seat behind his desk, he sat in one of the armchairs by the fire and motioned for Mr Taylor to do the same. Jenkins walked in with a tray of tea and coffee. Brian noticed his eyes widen as he set the tray down and caught sight of the child, who was at the moment still sleeping peacefully in Mr Taylor’s arms. “You must start from the beginning. I arrived yesterday night from several months abroad and have not yet had a chance to catch up on my correspondence.” He gestured to the pile of letters on his desk. “I am not sure from where to begin My Lord, for I am not certain where you left off.” Brian hid a grin at the thought that this child seemed to have no knowledge of the art with which to approach the subject of speaking to a Nobleman. It was refreshing. “I have been gone fifteen months.” He established. “You were not at the birth of your son.” It was a statement rather than a question uttered with shock and a trace of resignation as if it were not wholly unexpected. But he felt chastised and a sudden need to defend himself and that in itself was alien to him. So it was due to this that when he next spoke his voice was harsh with warning. “I was called away on business that could not wait Sir. But you are here to tell me your story not I, mine.” He found that Mr Taylor blushed quite prettily. “I apologise if I have offended My Lord. It is that…” he trailed off and so Brian saved him the trouble of waiting for him to come up with a suitable apology by interrupting him. There was no use in being so hard with the boy. Most grown men found it difficult to converse with him. He had heard it said at Whites that people generally found him quite intimidating. “Tell me what has occurred that has led you here to my doorstep at such an ungodly time of night.” “My Lady did not quite recover after Master Augustus’ birth.” He interrupted again, “Augustus?” Justin’s eyes widened and he glanced at the babe in explanation. Brian closed his eyes and wondered at the name. He supposed in all honesty it didn’t matter what the child’s name was. The boy attempted to excuse himself until finally he sighed, shrugged in a most Gaelic way and continued. “My Lady was weak all the time and stayed abed most days. She improved during the summer, the weather allowing her to sometimes venture out into the gardens. She seemed to be strengthening yet with the arrival of the winter… she took a chill over a month ago and it did not leave her. It turned into a fever and she did not recover.” Brian stood and approached the mantle. He needed more light. The glow of the fireplace was not quite enough for him to see the details of the boys' face so he lit the lamps. When he turned back he was better able to look at the boy. He was pale and looked thoroughly exhausted yet his hold of the baby in his arms was intimate and protective. “So where do you feature in this saga? Who are you? You are not a servant. Your voice is cultured and your manner is graceful although as you said, a little heathen.” He smiled crookedly and the boy blushed again. “I have failed to introduce myself properly,” he stammered, “I beg pardon. I am the great nephew of the late William Joseph Petre, 13th Baron Petre. We live in the vicinity of Ingstone and my Mother was a friend to Lady Talbot and has some knowledge of herbs, which aided her through some of the pain of her recovery. I visited with Lady Talbot and read to her some evenings and at times I cared for Gus so that his nurse could rest. I know that it is not proper…” he was interrupted “I care not for what is proper.” Brian retorted. “At least I know you were not My Lady’s lover.” He said sarcastically and it amused him when Justin looked up shocked and would probably have jumped out of his seat had he not had Gus on his lap. “I… no… I would never… Lady Talbot would never… I could not imagine that she would be unfaithful. I swear to…” he stammered awkwardly. “It was a joke” Brian tried, soothingly. The boy looked affronted and his expression became tight and closed. Brian approached the tea tray and poured some into a cup for his guest as Justin’s hands were, at the moment, quite full and he could not help himself. He might as well be a good host, he decided after all he needed the practice. Brian reached for the bottle of whiskey he kept for just such occasions. He opened it and raised his eyebrows in question before pouring a healthy dose into both cups. If the Irish affliction were to be contagious he might as well make it worth his while. “I do not understand your ways, Sir. Your wife has died and you do not mourn her. You do not wish to hold your son. You do nothing like you should. You are not what I expected.” Justin stated as he reached for the cup quickly, probably in an attempt to warm his hands. “Now there’s a compliment that I've been paid many a time before” Justin looked up and his eyes flashed with fire before he managed to dim their intensity. “To not be as expected. To be unique.” Brian continued. “Sir, is there anything else you feel the need to know? I have been travelling…” Justin asked briskly as if he would like nothing more than to quit his company. It was not a reaction that Brian was used to and it irked him so he interrupted again. “Why did she not send one of the servants?” Brian decided to continue his interrogation. “There was only the cook, the maid and the nurse. She did not employ any men in her staff.” Justin said setting his cup down untouched and starting to stand, adjusting the child in his arms as the baby started to awaken. “I know that, but why did you come?” “I made her a promise I never had any intention of breaking and she bid me to hurry.” Justin seemed offended. “That was not the question I intended.” Brian tried again, “I did not mean to question your integrity. Why did she ask you, of all people?” “I do not know, My Lord. Maybe it was because I was there at the time or that we were friends. She trusted me with Gus. I spent all the time that I could spare with him.” “Friends? You are but a child yourself how…?” “I am seventeen and not as young as the age suggests.” Surprised, Brian finally began to study his guest at length. It was then he noticed that there was a maturity in the boys’ eyes and an air of being and confidence that usually came with age that this boy seemed to have acquired much too young. Justin began to intrigue him in a way that no one person had in quite some time. He seemed to be both child and man with a strength of character that Brian had not witnessed in some men of thirty, let alone a mere boy of seventeen. His thoughts were interrupted when Gus started to fuss and cry. He watched as Justin broke his gaze and his attention went to the child as he tried to soothe and calm him. “I am afraid that Gus’s patience is at an end.” Justin said, looking up, “He wants a warm bed and some milk.” Startling blue eyes met his gaze and Brian took a step back. That stare made him shiver. There was no guile hidden in their depths and no doubt. Justin seemed to have faith that all he asked for would be provided. Brian turned and rang for Jenkins. “I have a feeding bottle in my saddle bags. Do you have a nursery, My Lord or a crib?” Brian had never felt so completely out of his depth. Tonight was a night for strange feelings indeed. “Yes. It is small and inadequate but there is a crib. I was having it prepared for when Lady Talbot came to town although she loathed society and all its frivolities.” Suddenly her loss hit him and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to collect himself. He felt Justin approach him. “You should take him, My Lord.” Justin said as he held the baby out. Brian’s eyes widened and he took a step back. “No! No, it is all right. I have never held a child before. It would be best if you took him to the nursery.” At this Justin’s lips curved up in a half smile but he did not back down and leave the child to its’ fate, the thought having never crossed his mind. “I shall teach you.” His child-like innocence shone through as he adjusted Brian’s arms so that he could place the baby in them. The bundle was warm and so very much lighter than Brian would have expected a small human being to be - his baby boy. Wonder must have slipped across his features for when next he looked up Justin had taken a step back and seemed to be watching him with a mixture of joy and sorrow. When he caught his eye he ducked his head and picked his tea up, swallowing its contents. “My Lord I am tired and I must find lodgings.” He said once he had finished and set the cup down. “If it is possible I wish to pay my respects on the morrow. There are a few things I must speak of with you pertaining to My Lady’s estate and I would wish to say goodbye to Gus? I am very fond of him and it will sadden me to leave him.” At this Brian almost dropped the precious bundle in his arms. “You can not leave him here tonight. There is no one to care for him and I can not find him a nurse at this time of night.” Brian eyes were wide and beseeching. “There is you, My Lord.” He said. “There has to be.” If Brian hadn’t been at that moment quite terrified at the thought of being left alone with a baby for more than a few minutes let alone the night, Justin’s words would have fallen under the category of insolence. Now faced with the possibility, it didn’t occur to him to care. “Yes and I'm sure that when he needs to learn his Latin verbs or how to ride and shoot I shall be there… but trust me when I tell you that I know nothing of caring for any child under the age of… say twelve… eight if the shortage of nurses in the country… continent was exceedingly dire.” He said bluntly. “I could not contemplate doubting you My Lord.” Brian’s gaze flicked up to assess the level of amusement that was at this moment directed at him and his eyes narrowed in helpless annoyance. “This can not be entertaining you.” He breathed, “You know something of children. I insist that you stay here till I find a nurse.” Brian demanded seriously. Justin’s eyebrows rose and he countered him with a confidence that Brian had not been faced with for some time “As you mentioned earlier, I am not your servant, Sir. What I have done was done solely as a favour to your wife. You are not in a position to demand anything of me.” The tea, having performed its vital duty of warming Justin up had also returned all his senses to him, for which he was grateful as it seemed he would be needing them. He was a gentleman’s son… well in society’s eyes if not in his own – Craig had lost his respect around the time he reached double digits – but regardless, he would not be ordered around no matter whom he was faced with. “What? Am I not - Your Lord any longer Justin?” Brian sighed charmingly. He realised that somehow his power to intimidate had been misplaced at some point during the evening’s proceedings. It might possibly have something to do with the baby in his arms. Maybe it was harder to look intimidating when you had your son cradled lovingly against your chest… he’d have to ponder that later on. After all it would be a terrible talent to lose. He hoped it was only temporary. He was aware that he would have to adopt a different approach to convince this young man in front of him to help. Justin smiled candidly, “Well, if you are to call me Justin I may call you…?” “You are younger than I and I am a Baron. It would not be proper for you to call me anything but Your Lord.” “A Baron? I would never have guessed.” Brian’s eyes widened in shocked amusement at the audacity this mere child displayed when speaking to him. The whiskey must have done more than warm his bones it seemed to have loosened his tongue and the… unnatural, instinct to suppress his casual intellect. “I would have thought a Duke at the very least…” Justin continued, “of several counties too…” Justin paused slowly lifting his head as he watched him from under his eyelashes in a manner ill befitting the innocence that Brian had credited him with. As he looked at the boy he started to notice that as the fire warmed and dried him, his beauty increased. His hair, which initially had been wet and of an unremarkable brown, was almost white-gold now. His pale cheeks had taken on a healthy flush and his lips, which had brightened with the taste of whiskey, glistened red. “And I was under the impression that you cared nought for propriety.” Justin continued tilting his chin up proudly with a half grin on his face as he teased him in the same way that he would a child or… a lover, innocuously flirting with him in a way that made him more tempting than any practised courtesan, for he had the added advantage of being completely guileless and unaware of his own beauty or allure. Brian was suddenly faced with the full power of Justin’s gaze and his breath caught in his chest for a full moment until finally he shook the effect off with a shake of his head. “We must come to an agreement then. One that will benefit both you and I.” Justin looked at him readily. “I am in desperate need of a person to temporarily care for my son. You adore my son and wish to spend time with him and I am willing to allow it.” Justin eyes glowed with amusement, “How generous of you.” Brian began to reflect on the easy way they had both fallen into a comfortable rapport. Something else he would have to think about later. It was probably his youthful and, as yet unjaded character or maybe it was simply his angelic beauty or… he would have to think on that as well. He continued, “You are in need of a bed? I will provide you with one, with the added advantage that you will not have to trek through the rain looking for an acceptable room and at this time of night, more likely than not, you won't be very successful. Not to mention, your horse is already very comfortable here, it would be cruel to move him.” Justin laughed out loud and approached him to take Gus out of his arms in a gesture of acceptance. Before he reached him though, doubt clouded his gaze and his mouth twisted in uncertainty. “I… ” Brian met his gaze and was faced with the reality that Justin had hidden so well. For all his courage and cleverness Justin was still aware of his own naivety, his ignorance of the strict rules of society, “I am not sure…” Brian interrupted him “It is all right.” He said as he handed him the baby. “You need to get out of your wet clothes and sleep. No one would fault you for taking me up on my most tempting offer.” “Well then in an effort not to trouble my horse… I shall accept.”