Page 50 of Twice Upon a Midnight

“Ah, Gordon! Perfect timing!”

Dumbstruck, Spenser wheeled around at the sound of Martin’s voice, just in time to see the old man throw back the blanket, toss his legs over the side of the bed, and push himself onto his feet. He practically bounced across the room to welcome Mr. Gordon, whose face melted into a smile at the sight of him, completely well.

Martin pumped Mr. Gordon’s hand in greeting. “Thank you for coming at short notice and at such a late hour.”

“Of course, Mr. Henslow.” The solicitor set down his book and satchel on the small wooden table where Martin took his meals, as if he had done so many times before. “I’m always available to you around the clock, sir.”

Spenser felt Ella slide her hand into his and lean closer when she whispered, eyes wide, “What’s going on?”

“A miracle healing, apparently,” Spenser muttered in return, scowling at his old friend. “Martin, what the devil are you—”

“I know, lad. This isn’t at all the way I wanted to do this.” Martin wagged a finger at Spenser. “But you left me no choice.”

“You collapsed in the ballroom,” Spenser reminded him, scanning a disbelieving glance over him. “I thought you were dying. The doctor said to make you comfortable, and I thought…” He broke off, unwilling to put voice to his fears. “Now look at you. Healthy as an ox.”

Martin rested his hand on Spenser’s shoulder and said, as if confidentially, “He doesn’t seem to be a very good doctor. I wouldn’t hire him again, if I were you.” Then he gleefully clapped his hands together and turned toward Mr. Gordon. “Ah! You brought them, then?”

The solicitor smiled smugly and reached for his satchel. “As requested.”

As Mr. Gordon untied the gold braid tie of his satchel and pulled several papers from it, Spenser released Ella’s hand and stepped forward. “Damnation, Martin! What is going on?”

“I summoned Gordon while you were off at Pensworth House with your stepfather,” Martin explained as he reached for his pair of bent spectacles and perched them on his nose, “and before I tracked you down at the Whitwell Ball. I had to stop you before you did something you would regret.”

“What are you talking about?” Spenser spread out his arms wide to indicate the cramped, poorly furnished room around them. “How can you summon a solicitor? You live here and wear threadbare clothes. You have no money and depend on me to bring you food.”

“Because it makes you feel good to help me, and because I enjoy your company. We need each other.”

Spenser pointed at Martin’s threadbare clothes. “You’re one step above being a beggar.”

“Actually, I’m not.” He shook his head. “But money and the things it can buy stopped being important to me a very long time ago. I have a good life here with what I have and friends like you to share it with.” He scanned over the documents and nodded approvingly. “Very good, Gordon. These agreements will do nicely, I think.”

Mr. Gordon smiled, pleased at the compliment, and looked up at Spenser. “Mr. Henslow is one of the wealthiest men in the United Kingdom, with business interests spreading across several industries and reaching all the way to the Americas and India.”

Spenser blinked, unable to fathom that. Then anger flashed over him. “You’re bamming me!”

“Not at all.” Mr. Gordon straightened his shoulders, as if offended on Martin’s behalf. “Mr. Henslow is one in a very rare club of men whose wealth reaches over one million pounds.”

“Now, now, Gordon,” Martin muttered as he examined the pages again. “No need to brag. You know I don’t care about that.”

Spenser’s mouth fell open, and a quick glance over his shoulder at Ella proved she was just as stunned as he was. “One…”

“Million pounds, yes,” Mr. Gordon finished, as casually as if naming the price of hosiery in a Burlington Arcade shop. Spenser could tell from the man’s expression that he wasn’t lying. “He’s the sole owner of the Henslow Company. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

Heard of it?Spenser nearly laughed. Every businessman in England knew that company. It reportedly owned a large swathe of properties across the City and the East End, including several warehouses near the wharves at Wapping and Limehouse. Spenser had always assumed the company was a conglomerate of influential partners and that the connection to Martin’s last name was simply a coincidence. But now…

Damnation.“You lied to me,” Spenser bit out.

“The same way you lied to me?” Ella interjected.

Double damnation.The irony grated. “For completely different reasons.” He cast an apologetic glance at her. “I did it to protect you.” Then, much quieter, “Because I care about you. You mean the world to me, Ella.”

“Not so completely different, then,” Martin corrected.

Spenser turned to him, aghast. “You let me believe you needed me!”

“Idoneed you, lad, more than you know.” A wounded expression darkened Martin’s face. “You’re the dearest friend I have in the world. You care only about me, not how much money I have, what connections my business has, or what I might be able to do for you.”

“I wouldn’t have cared about any of that. I cared about—”