“But it shows the Queen wearing it!” Augustus protested. “The courts said she never had it!”
“They were wrong.” Titus’s skin was prickling withexcitement. “You said so, Nico, you said you had proof that Marie Antoinette took possession of the necklace. Is this your proof? Madame Le Brun painted her wearing it?”
“But that is not proof,” Augustus said. “A painting is an affair of the imagination. I could paint Mrs. Pilcrow wearing the same necklace, and it would not prove she was involved.”
“You, monsieur, are not Le Brun,” Nico said acidly. “The painting shows Marie Antoinette wearing the great necklace she claimed never to have coveted, still less to have had in her possession. Why would Le Brun have painted such a damning thing of her sovereign and friend?”
“I don’t believe it.”
“I do,” Titus said. “If the Queen went to such lengths to possess the necklace, of course she would want to see herself wearing it, if only in private.”
“But if you are correct, this painting implies the Queen’s guilt and your mother’s innocence,” Augustus said. “Why have you not made this public? Your family name—”
“Monsieur, the present King of France also values his family name,” Nico said. “He prefers not to have it known that his martyred sister-in-law was guilty of theft and perjury. If I made it public that I had evidence of the Queen’s guilt, my life would not be worth a month’s purchase.”
“You are in danger?” Augustus said, alarmed. “But is that not to put anyone who associates with you in danger? I was not made aware of this when I came to stay!”
“We have not seen any French spies here, Augustus,” Titus said.
“Well, you would not see them if they were here,” Nico pointed out. “Les mouchards are good at their work. But they are not here because I am not attempting to retrieve my mother’s reputation. Jeanne de La Motte is long dead; so is the Queen. Let the whole business pass into history.”
He sounded weary. Titus felt guilty. Nico had told him some of this when they’d met, and he’d dismissed it as implausible in the extreme. He’d let himself forget all about it, and as a result he hadn’t even known his lover carried this burden. No wonder he looked troubled.
“It is a terrible position for you,” he offered inadequately.
“Many people are in worse,” Nico said. “Did you hear—” He moved the conversation on to gossip and crim con stories with clear intent, and soon had both Titus and Augustus sufficiently entertained that the rest of the evening was quite tolerable.
Chapter Twenty-One
Titus tried to raise the subject again when they went to bed that night. He had told Mrs. Thorpe not to bother with a truckle bed. His bed was large and wide, and it was commonplace to share. He’d done so plenty of times in poverty; he would take the benefit of it now he was rich.
Rich with the money that might have been Nico’s. He’d stopped feeling guilty about that largely because of Nico’s insistence he didn’t have to, and now the feelings were back with a vengeance.
“Thank you for your help tonight,” he began as they undressed. “I’m sorry. That must have been a horribly uncomfortable dinner for you.”
“Infinitely worse for you, mon ami.”
“I’m glad you intervened. I had quite lost my temper and I was about to say some things, more things, I would have regretted.” He sighed. “I should not have mentioned Hadrian.”
“It needed to be said. Do you believe this conversation tomorrow will be useful?”
“Well, Augustus seemed hurt at what I said, and if he iswilling to think about it, if he regrets how things are, then perhaps…” He glanced at Nico’s face in the candlelight. “You don’t agree.”
Nico shrugged. “He may have regrets, but I suspect it will not take long for him to turn them into your fault. He is not a man who can tolerate being at fault himself. And if he does not think he is at fault, he will not change.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Titus sat on the bed to peel off his stockings. “To be honest, he reminded me of Henry. He cannot be in the wrong either, whereas I always fear I might be.”
Nico had stripped to only his shirt. He walked up now, bare legged, and wrapped his arms around Titus’s waist. “You fear that too much, mon cher. I know you are not always certain of yourself, but you have an excellent heart and your instincts are sound. You stood for yourself tonight, and I was proud on your behalf.”
“I wish I hadn’t had to. I wish we could be better brothers.”
“But your brother’s self-esteem requires him to be master. You are all heart, but I fear Vespasian was right to say Augustus is all stomach. Hewilldisappoint you. I wish you will not let him hurt you. And if things go poorly and you require help in kicking him out, I am at your disposal.”
Titus rested his cheek on the top of Nico’s head. “I am so glad I have you, Nico. You do so much for me, and it means everything. Er, about the things you were telling us—”
“Ah, no, not now, mon coeur,” Nico said. “Please. Just come to bed.”
They made good use of the night. Nico seemed in a wild mood, bringing Titus to ecstasy with his mouth, then begging for a fuck in a tripartite mixture of French, English, and purefilth. Titus slept like the dead afterwards, and found himself able to face the morning and Augustus with something close to equanimity.