Jonathan gaped at them as though they had entirely missed the crux of his anger. “Hewasat Fairford House,” he said. “He is not now.”
“He is not?” Brutus’s triumphant look dropped to worry.
“Dalhurst moved him,” Jonathan said. “He was shuffled off into a carriage and taken away to some unknown hell.”
“They said they had a buyer,” Charlie murmured softly to Valentine, grabbing his friend’s hand to try to steady himself.
Valentine glanced anxiously to Brutus and Titus.
“What is it?” Titus asked, taking a step closer to them.
Jonathan stepped in front of Charlie to block him. “You will not go anywhere near Charlie until you can convince me that you are not in league with your brother,” he growled.
Pride swelled in Charlie, but also worry. Despite everything, he was still convinced the Den was good. He feared what might happen if Jonathan let his anger get the better of him.
Fortunately, Brutus took a step forward, touching his brother’s arm and pulling him back.
“You are completely right to be angry with us,” he said, nodding respectfully at Jonathan. “Please allow me to send for refreshments so that we might sit and talk together.”
Jonathan wavered. He glanced over his shoulder at Charlie.
With a warm rush like an embrace, Charlie remembered what Jonathan had said to him on the train. He needed him. He needed Charlie to help him make the right decisions.
Charlie met Jonathan’s eyes, and did his best to smile. He nodded, then stepped away from Valentine to take his hand.
As soon as Charlie touched him, Jonathan relaxed and his shoulders sagged. “Refreshments, yes,” he said, folding both of his hands around Charlie’s.
“Valentine? Would you?” Titus asked calmly.
Valentine nodded and hurried out of the room.
As soon as he was gone, Brutus extended a hand to one of the comfortable sofas at the side of the room. “Please, sit,” he said.
Jonathan nodded and walked with Charlie to take a seat. Perhaps wisely, Brutus and Titus sat in two chairs that made up a circle with the sofa instead of trying to be close to them.
“I understand that you are angry, and in a way, your anger is justified,” Brutus said in a voice that could calm a raging elephant.
Jonathan breathed heavily for a few moments, still clutching Charlie’s hand tightly. “Why did you involve me in this?” he demanded. “And why did you not ensure that I was fully informed before I left for Wiltshire?”
“There wasn’t time,” Titus said, not quite as soothing as his brother, but still calm. “The house party had already begun by the time Thomas was able to convince Frome to send for you.”
Jonathan sat straighter, his eyes widening incredulously. “Thomas is one of you,” he said. It was not a question.
“He is,” Brutus said with a nod. “Though our brother thinks he is one of them.”
“A double agent,” Jonathan murmured, his posture slipping as he took in the information. “He saved our lives.”
“Likely at the risk of his own,” Titus agreed.
“Will he be safe?” Charlie asked, though he had no idea if he was allowed to speak in the presence of such dominant men.
Brutus smiled softly at him. “Thomas is clever and quick. We have not heard from him as of yet, but I am certain he will preserve himself.”
Charlie wished he was as certain.
“Please,” Jonathan said, staring at the floor instead of their hosts, like his patience was at its end. “Please tell me what precisely is happening here.” He looked up and glared at both men. “I no longer wish to be in the dark.”
Brutus and Titus exchanged careful looks.
