“Acceptable,” Fairbridge said finally. “With one caveat.”
Evander’s eyebrow rose. “Which is?”
“If I believe your actions endanger the integrity of the mission or violate international protocols, I have the authority tointervene. Her Majesty’s government has invested considerable resources in this investigation. I won’t stand by and watch it collapse due to unnecessary… recklessness.” Fairbridge’s tone was matter-of-fact, as if he were discussing the weather rather than threatening Evander’s autonomy. “I trust that won’t be necessary.”
Viggo fisted his hands, ire rising.
Solomon shot him a warning glance.
“I’m sure we’ll all manage to restrain ourselves,” Evander said stonily.
Ginny scoffed under her breath. Evander narrowed his eyes at her.
Shaw made a face. “Excuse me for saying this, your Grace, but I agree with Lady Hartley. You’re not exactly known for your restraint.”
“Not helping, Shaw,” Rufus groaned.
For a moment, Viggo thought he saw a fleeting smile cross Fairbridge’s face. He dismissed the idea, certain it had been his imagination. Frost crept into his voice when he spoke.
“Tell me, Mr. Fairbridge, how many international investigations have you personally conducted?”
Fairbridge didn’t blink. “Seventeen.”
Viggo stilled, as did everyone else inside the carriage.
“Across four continents,” Fairbridge added. “Including two involving dark magic conspiracies remarkably similar to what we’re facing now.”
“Cor blimey,” Shaw mumbled, visibly impressed.
Even Rufus looked grudgingly astonished.
“You’ve done your homework,” Evander said stiffly.
“I always do.” Fairbridge’s gaze swept the carriage before settling on Evander. “Which is why I know you and Mr. Stonewall have been cohabiting for over a month now.”
The temperature in the carriage plummeted, along with Viggo’s stomach. Ginny’s eyes grew to slits. Solomon straightened. Rufus lowered his brows.
Shaw glanced between them, confusion dawning on her face.
Evander had gone absolutely still, his face a mask of ice.
“I beg your pardon?” he nearly growled.
“You heard me correctly, your Grace.” Fairbridge’s expression didn’t change. “I’m not here to judge your personal affairs. But I needed you to understand that I do my research thoroughly.” He paused. “Your secret is safe with me. I have no interest in exposing it to the Ministry of Arcane Affairs or General Hartwick unless it compromises the mission.”
Viggo took a step forward, conscious his size filled the space and not giving a damn. “Are you threatening us?!” he hissed.
“I’m trying to establish trust.” A muscle jumped in Fairbridge’s jaw, the first crack in his perfect composure. “Poorly, apparently.” He looked Evander dead in the eye. “What I’m trying to convey, your Grace, is that I already know your secrets. I don’t care about them. What I care about is stopping whoever is behind these experiments before more people die.” His voice roughened almost imperceptibly. “I lost someone close to me to dark mages ten years ago. Believe me when I say I have no interest in political games or Ministry posturing. I’m here to ensure this investigation succeeds, by whatever means necessary.”
Evander’s eyes darkened. A muscle worked in his jawline. “I’m very sorry for your loss,” he said in a gruff voice.
Fairbridge nodded sharply once, then returned his gaze to the wall.
Evander studied him with a frown. Viggo could practically see his lover’s mind working behind his blue gaze. Reassessing. Recalculating.
“Then perhaps we should start again.” Evander extended a hand across the narrow space between them. “I look forward to working with you.”
Fairbridge looked at the offered hand and took it. “The feeling is mutual.”
