forward. ‘But why pretend the child was dead? It makes no sense.’
Theo nodded, looking pleased. ‘That’s exactly what I said, boss. Anyway, she tells me that there was something up with the baby, and that’s why they got rid of him.’
‘Something up?’
‘Yeah, with his skin. It wasn’t right. She said it weren’t normal.’
On the outside, he appeared as calm as ever, but inside his thoughts were whirling. It could just be a skin condition, but what if it’s more? What if there was a joker prince? And what if they’d had him disposed of? The implications were staggering. If they’d killed a royal baby for the sake of appearances, it would send shockwaves around the world, and that was before the Green Man had arranged a very special revenge strike. And even that is nothing compared to what could happen if the child is still alive!
Before the change, his cheeks would have flushed with excitement, fuelled by a thundering heart. But Green Man never blushed, his features and his heart immovable.
‘Would your grandmother mind if I paid her a visit?’
‘Nah, she loves a good chat.’ Theo passed over a crumpled piece of paper. ‘That’s her address.’
Green Man took it, committed the details to memory, and slipped it into the inside pocket of his jacket. ‘Thank you, Theo. Now tell me, is there anything I can do for you?’
The man looked down, embarrassed. ‘There is this one thing …’ Green Man sat back, knowing this game well. Theo was trying to seem coy, but he’d come here with this request in mind. ‘There’s this foreman. We call him, well, it don’t matter … I want some help with him.’
‘He’s causing you some trouble?’
‘Yeah. He’s always giving me the worst jobs and then pushing me about when nobody’s looking. I take it on the chin, y’know? But sometimes he blames me for stuff and they dock my pay, and I can’t have that. Money’s tight.’
‘Would you like us to have a word with this chap on your behalf?’
‘That’d be great. Nothing heavy, I just want to be able to do my shift in peace.’
‘Send me a rota with his times on it and I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Thanks, boss.’
Green Man stood and shook his hand. ‘Thank you, Theo.’
Alan spoke softly into his phone. ‘I’m sorry, Sebastian. Truly. I’m so sorry I had to cancel our lunch yesterday – I was looking forward to it. And I apologize for not getting home last night, but. Given the King’s gaffe, resentments have sparked throughout the city. Now there are multiple forces moving against Henry …’
As Turing said the words, Richard shifted beneath the covers, his hand tracing small, wicked circles in very distracting regions. Forces moving? Richard mouthed, and Turing shook his head, firmly, only to be further ignored. He took a quick, steadying breath and continued.
‘… I’m going to be here all night, I’m afraid, working with some of the MI5 chaps. Just put the telly on, maybe that baking show you like? That’ll give you something pleasant to fall asleep to. Yes, yes – tomorrow, lunch, I promise. Why don’t you make us reservations somewhere nice? Or I can do it – no, of course I don’t mind. I’ll go online right now and set it up; I’ll text you the details in the morning. But make sure you get some sleep; you’ll be an absolute bear at lunch if you haven’t had your rest.’
Roar! Richard mouthed, making claws out of his fingers.
Shut up! Alan mouthed back. Could you say that to your king-to-be? Apparently, because Richard was laughing now, silently, thank all the gods. Laughing and gesturing to Alan to hang up. Hang up!
‘I really have to get back to work now. Sleep well, husband.’ He hesitated, and then added, ‘I love you.’ The truth was, Alan had never really been comfortable saying that sort of thing out loud, but Sebastian needed to hear those words every day. He’d even made Alan put in their wedding vows that they were not to let a day go by without saying, I love you.
He’d be lost without Sebastian. Alan just didn’t see why he couldn’t have Richard too. When vast amounts of property – actual kingdoms – were involved, then certainly it mattered who was spending time in whose bed, and what children resulted from it. But once you stopped worrying about which man had sired which baby, there was no good reason for cleaving only unto one other. Monogamy wasn’t logical; the heart wanted what it wanted.
All right, maybe his heart wasn’t the driving force here. Alan hung up the phone, finally, and reached for Richard, his dick already hardening – only to have the Prince slip away, laughing out loud.
‘Oh no, no, my lovely metal man. I want more from you tonight. You’re the smartest man in the world, and I – I should be king. How can we take the throne from my brother?’
It was a difficult problem. The simplest method, of course, would be to kill Henry. Turing had ordered his share of deaths as a member of the Silver Helix, but killing a king carried tremendous risk. Was Richard truly willing to take that step, to commit fratricide? There was little love lost between the brothers, but murder was surely extreme. Could Turing condone such a thing, assist with it, if Richard asked it of him?
Thankfully, he hadn’t asked it. Not yet. And there might be other options than murder. A sufficiently large scandal would force Henry from the throne. They had seen it with Edward VIII, after all: the country could not abide divorcée Wallis Simpson as queen, and so Edward had abdicated. There was precedent. The problem would be creating the scandal, as quickly as possible. Henry was still new to his throne, uncertain of his place. It would be far harder to unseat him once his buttocks were firmly planted on that royal seat.
‘Let me think about it, Dickie. There may be a way.’
Richard seemed ready to protest, to press for more – but then he subsided. He had, after all, seen Alan work on other problems before; he had some small understanding of the process. He murmured only, ‘Soon, Alan. Calculate quickly.’ And then he was sliding down the bed, disappearing under the covers. For a little while, Alan stopped thinking at all.
‘Bobbin,’ Constance began. They’d let the staff go home early and were closing up.
‘What is it?’ he replied. His smile was warm and kind. The patches of colour on his face – faded now – were as familiar to her as the constellation of freckles on her arms. Those freckles hadn’t been there when she was younger – age had left them in its passing. And age had left the gold rimming his eyes, eyes that crinkled even when he wasn’t smiling.
‘I need to tell you a few things,’ she began. She drew the curtains across the front windows and went around the room shutting the atelier down for the evening. ‘You should sit down,’ she said.
‘Very well,’ he replied. ‘But, do you want to go out to dinner tonight? I know you’re
