by
Sequel to A United Front
In London during the spring of 1818, the close-knit group of men successfully routed a recent threat of extortion that particularly impacted Jo Everett and Daniel Walters.
The after-effects might linger, but everyday life and other challenges keep all four couples occupied.
Luc, the musician, and Harry, the actor, are heavily involved with a production at Drury Lane Theatre.
Ben is helping Edward to counter his father’s edict that Edward quits London to take the reins of the family doctor’s practice in Wiltshire, leaving behind his lover and his medical research.
Meanwhile, Percy is out of sorts at the prospect of his sister Eustacia’s upcoming wedding. As usual, his long-suffering lover Nathan bears the brunt of Percy’s mercurial moods.
Life above the tailor’s shop at Tottenham Court Road has apparently returned to normal since the banishment of the corrupt constable, Jabeth Snell. But neither Jo nor Daniel has fully recovered from their close escape.
Jo is trying to put on a brave face while Daniel’s old doubts have resurfaced, making him keep Jo at a distance.
Can Jo and Daniel weather the storm and return to their previously happy existence? And will their friends rally round to help them reconcile?
Publisher: JMS Books, LLC
Editors:
Genres:
Pairings: M-M
Heat Level: 3
Romantic Content: 5
Ending: Click here to reveal
Character Identities: Gay
Protagonist 1 Age: 26-35
Protagonist 2 Age: 26-35
Tropes: Class Differences, Found Family, Hurt / Comfort, Reunited and it Feels So Good, True Love
Word Count: 13143
Setting: London, England
Series Type: Continuous / Same Characters
“Have you finished for the day, Mr. Jo?” Cribbins asked while Jo placed the completed stack of letters on the hall table ready for the post boy.
“That’s right, Cribbins. Ben told me not to linger once I’d finished today’s quota of epistles.”
“Rather you than me,” Cribbins said, eyeing the pile of papers. “I’ll stick to polishing the silver.”
“Why, is Ben such a stickler?”
“Not so you’d notice. Someone has to keep the captain up to certain standards, even if they aren’t his own. I call it a work in progress.”
They grinned at each other.
“Talking of standards,” Jo said, his mind turning to the recent upset. “Have you come across your friend Arkwright recently?”
READ MOREThis official served at the same magistrate’s court as Snell but was of a different pedigree entirely, and had been a soldier under Ben’s command. With some prompting from Cribbins, Arkwright had been pivotal in engineering Snell’s removal from London.
Since Cribbins and Ben were in close alignment, Jo had very few secrets from Ben’s manservant, the most reliable of men who he regarded as a friend.
“Funny you should say that, sir. I bumped into him only this afternoon, on my way back from the cobblers. You know how the captain needs his boots specially adjusted these days.”
Jo nodded at this allusion to Ben’s injured foot, or what remained of it.
“Arkwright was in no hurry and seemed pleased to see me. We shared a jug of ale as he was keen to relate his tidings of Snell.”
It was typical of Cribbins to refer to the potentially life-ruining scandal in such oblique terms.
He’s had plenty of practice at circumventing a trigger for Ben’s moods and rages.
“There’s been neither hide nor hair of Snell in Soho or thereabouts. Mind you, plenty of fellows seek him and not to enquire after his health,” Cribbins said knowingly, doubtless referring to the criminal element to whom Snell owed money. “Snell’s missus had the bags packed on the cart off to Southwark sharpish,” Cribbins paused for effect. “Although that’s probably because they owed three months rent.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“Indeed, sir. I reckon Snell’s lying low in Battersea, out of the reach of any rogues. And from what Arkwright says, it’s not a comfortable billet. Mr. Thompson, the local magistrate is a God-fearing sort, close to Methodist in inclination. Arkwright says he makes Mr. Madingley seem like a Sybarite in comparison.”
Jo laughed at that colourful description of the eminently respectable Soho magistrate, a friend of Nathan’s and a new acquaintance to Ben, who had been delighted to rid the district of Snell and his nefarious schemes.
“There’s no scope for Snell’s schemes in Battersea, what with Mr. Thompson watching him like a hawk. There’s more sheep than people in that direction, anyway,” Cribbins said with the lofty condescension of a seasoned city dweller. “The magistrate disapproves of gambling and doesn’t hold with his men drinking spirits.”
“So it looks like Snell is forced into being a sober citizen.”
“Couldn’t have happened to a more deserving cove.”
“I have to say, that’s certainly brightened up my day.”
“I thought it might, sir. Are you off home now?”
Perhaps Jo was simply feeling oversensitive, but there seemed to be slightly too much understanding on Cribbins’ weather-beaten features.”
“I thought I’d drop into Jackson’s for a bit of sparring before preparing for the evening’s revelry.”
Better than going home to have Daniel invent yet another reason to keep out of my way.
In recent training sessions, Jo had imagined Snell’s smug face imprinted on the punching bag, giving him some measure of satisfaction.
“Ben’s got an invitation for tonight’s ball, too. He must have accepted as I spotted the card on the mantel.”
“That’ll please him.” Cribbins grinned. Ben was vocal in his dislike of frivolity. “I’d better get his evening suit brushed down and ready, so he’ll have no excuses.”
“Rather you than me, in that respect.
“We have to suffer our lot in life. I’ll see you tomorrow morning then, Mr. Jo.”
“Indeed, you will, Cribbins, despite the gallons of Champagne I’ll be obliged to consume this evening.”
“I’ll be sure to have the coffee ready. Strong enough to stand a spoon in.”
COLLAPSE
