Free Once an Innocent by Elizabeth Boyce

materialized into the tall, lanky form of Solomon Perry. He’d divested himself of boots, Jordan saw, and now crept up in stocking feet behind Percival Young, who had quietly taken in the others’ conversation from the far end of the table. Perry winked at Jordan and held a finger to his lips. From behind his back, he produced a long goose feather and tickled Young’s ear.
    Percy swatted as though shooing a fly; his wrist flicked effeminately. The man was delicate boned and skirted close to pretty, with his milky complexion, reddish hair, and petulant lips. All too often, Jordan had seen such males draw the undeserved contempt of their peers.
    Mr. Perry grazed the feather against Percy’s ear again. The gentleman brushed it away, visibly annoyed.
    Percy Young was newly betrothed. Whether his impending marriage went with or against his natural inclinations was of no import to Jordan. He didn’t waste time thinking about what people did in their own beds. However, the subject mattered a great deal to other men, who acted out — as though they were somehow threatened — against males who didn’t fit their idea of how a man ought to look and act.
    Solomon once more touched Mr. Young’s ear. “Stop it,” Jordan snapped.
    At the same instant — before Jordan had finished uttering those two brief words — Percival Young was on his feet with a pistol aimed at Perry’s chest. It was the quickest draw Jordan had ever witnessed.
    “Percy, Percy!” Solomon held his hands wide, the offending feather pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “It was just a bit of fun. Where’s your sense of humor, man?”
    Percival’s eyes narrowed. “In my line of work, men who creep behind my back don’t get the chance to do it again.” He was a slip of a man next to the towering Solomon Perry, but there was no doubt as to who dominated.
    Solomon licked his lips and laughed nervously. “Lord Freese, there’s a loose cannon on deck.”
    “Stand down, Mr. Young,” Jordan ordered. Slowly, Percy lowered his weapon. Jordan’s eyes flicked to the taller man. “Mr. Perry, if you pull a childish prank again, I won’t stop Young from dealing with you as he sees fit. Sit. Now.”
    With a sulky air, Solomon pulled out a chair and folded himself into it.
    A serving girl appeared, carrying a large, round tray loosely at her side. She hovered expectantly near the door, awaiting requests for more refreshments. The Foreign Office agents exchanged peevish glances with one another. Solomon Perry pouted at the table, and Mr. Elton exhaled a sigh of long suffering. When none of Jordan’s men said anything, the girl darted out.
    “I suppose this meeting is effectively over,” Jordan snapped. His back and legs ached from two long days spent riding, and he longed to be free of these
children
Castlereagh had saddled him with. Six boys sulking at their father, another four to meet them at home, and ten females to entertain, too.
    “In that case,” Lord Gray said lightly, “how about an excursion to the cave I mentioned? My wife would enjoy the outing.” He passed his smile around the table, blithely ignoring the dour mood that had descended upon the party.
    Jordan shook his head once. “No. We’ve work to do.”
    Lord Gray’s brows closed in a frown, his young skin folding as crisply as fresh linen. “Come now, Freese, have a heart. My lady and I have only been married a few weeks. Surely you wouldn’t disappoint a new bride. Wouldn’t it be all right if — ”
    The flat of Jordan’s hand slapped against the table. “No,” he said in a steely tone between clenched teeth, “it would
not
be all right.” He leaned over the table until his nose was mere inches from Lord Gray’s.
    The young man swallowed. His lips went white around the edges, but he held his ground. “My lord, you just said the meeting is over.”
    “I spoke in haste,” Jordan retorted. He stood up and crossed to the window, which overlooked the inn’s stable yard.