Clermont made a sound halfway between a laugh and a moan. “That may be true, but you saw me just now,” he said, slowly glancing up at Howard with a look of mortification in his eyes. “I cannot leave the club. My mind will not allow it. I shall exchange Newgate for Bedlam if I am seen to cower in fear at nothing every time I step into the fresh air.”
Howard frowned in thought. He had a point there. The world was not only cruel to men who loved other men. It was cruel to any who were deemed different or disturbed.
As he puzzled through what to do next, Clermont leaned toward him, then sagged against his side entirely, sighing mournfully. If it had not been such a sad gesture of defeat, Howard’s heart might have burst with the beautiful sentimentality of it.
“There, there,” he said, kissing the top of Clermont’s head and shifting so that he could draw the man into a hug. “All will be well, you will see.”
“It will not,” Clermont lamented. “I am a broken man. My sister and my brother’s family need me, but I cannot even step out into the sunlight. I am fragile when I should be strong and weak where I should step up and take charge.”
Every word that sighed from his angel’s mouth made Howard adore the man more.
“You have nothing to worry about,” he said, intent on being the strength Clermont needed. “Healing happens in its own time.” He thought for a moment, then said. “I propose a plan.”
“A plan?” Clermont peeked up at him with cautious hope.
“I will attend your brother’s funeral in your stead,” he said. “I will take whatever reply you wish to send to your sister, and I will return with whatever answer she might give.”
“You would do that for me?”
“I will,” Howard said with a nod. “And when I return, you and I will sit down and discuss this matter. We will come up with a way to help you overcome this fear and embrace the outside world once more.”
Clermont shook his head and pulled away from Howard. “It will not work. The fear has become too great in me. There is too much risk that I will fall apart with people watching, which would only make things worse.”
He had a point, but it was not one Howard wished to entertain for long. He rubbed Clermont’s back again and said, “You leave things to me. I will devise a solution.”
Clermont stared at him dubiously, but at last he said, “Alright. I agree.”
Giles returned with tea shortly after that. The two of them drank it while speaking of kinder, quieter things, like Clermont’s memories of his sister and the happier days of their childhood. Howard learned that he and Yvette were twins and that they had been very close indeed through all of their lives, up until Yvette was courted by and married Phillip Cavanaugh five years ago and had immediately begun a family. Yvette had a set of twins as well, but Clermont had not seen them since they were newborn.
By the time Howard had Clermont settled at his usual table in the dining room and had returned to his own rooms to dress more appropriately for a funeral, he was determined that Clermont must be reunited with his family in time for Christmas. How to accomplish that was another thing entirely, though.
Yvette’s letter did not mention the name of the church where Clermont’s brother’s funeral was to take place, but Clermont knew his family’s parish, so it was not difficult to find. By the time Howard arrived, the service was already halfway over. Unsurprisingly, the church was sparsely filled and there was not so much an air of sadness over the few people in attendance as a feeling of grim acceptance.
Once the service ended, Howard was instantly noticed. The few mourners seemed surprised that someone they did not know had arrived. Most merely nodded to him before going on their way, however.
Mrs. Yvette Cavanaugh was not difficult to find among those who were left. For one, she truly was Clermont’s twin. Her face had all the same features of her brother, only softer and more feminine. She was of the same height with the same blue eyes. The thing that distinguished her from the others loitering around the church, loath to step out into what had turned into a rather blustery December day, was the fact that she held a small infant in her arms and had two others in a pram. The gentleman who stood beside her, who could only have been Mr. Cavanaugh, carried a boy of about four.
Howard smiled before he could stop himself, given the occasion. He instantly imagined Clermont doting on his young nieces and nephews. Mrs. Cavanaugh certainly looked as though she could use someone to help keep her young ones occupied.
“Good day, madam,” Howard greeted the small family, hat in hand.
“Good day?” Mrs. Cavanaugh looked confusedly up at him.
“I am a friend of your brother’s, Mr. Yves Clermont,” Howard introduced himself. “Mr. Howard Bradford.”
“Oh!” Mrs. Cavanaugh instantly brightened. “Has Yves come?” she asked, looking around Howard to see if she could spot him.
“Alas, I am afraid not,” Howard said. He took a moment to nod to Mr. Cavanaugh and to shake his hand after the man shuffled his son to his other arm. “Could we perhaps sit somewhere to speak?” he then asked.
“Yes, yes, of course,” Mrs. Cavanaugh said.
A few minutes of fuss and confusion followed as children were passed around, a maid was called forward to take the youngest baby, and Mr. Cavanaugh took his children to the back of the church, where the vicar seemed to be in conversation with a stony-faced woman who must have been Guillaume’s widow. Once that was taken care of, Howard gestured for Mrs. Cavanaugh to sit in one of the front pews with him.
“Yves did not come,” Mrs. Cavanaugh stated the obvious to begin the conversation.
“No,” Howard said, deporting himself as gently as he could. He might have had a reputation as a silver-haired rake among certain circles, but he was equally capable of presenting himself as the kindly older man whom others could confide in and rely on. “He did try, but I am afraid he was unable to.”
Mrs. Cavanaugh nodded with sad understanding. “He has some sort of sickness of the mind that will not allow him to leave the place where he is safe,” she said. “Our brother ruined him that way with his threats and taunting.”
