“I doubt that, since the title is in my father’s gift. But I will certainly be the next Marquess of Flitby in due course, and there is nothing anyone can do to stop that. The title, the entailed property, and all that comes with it. The great machine of heredity will grind on, and grind me with it.”

Will felt a whole-body wave of refusal. It was bad enough Kim being Lord Arthur Secretan: he couldn’t become a marquess. It would be impossible. He’d vanish into a world of stately homes and impossible wealth, somewhere Will couldn’t hide and would never belong. They’d never belonged together in the first place. Everything between them had been built piece by piece over a chasm, and that bridge had proved fragile enough in the past without having to bear the crushing weight of Kim’s heritage.

They wouldn’t survive this. He’d lose him.

“Oh shit,” he said.

“This is a nightmare. My father hasn’t let me set foot in the house in years. I can’t recall when we last spoke. If he’s forced to accept me as his heir, he’ll never forgive me.”

“He can’t blame you for this.”

“Would you care to put money on that? I’ll get to be marquess when my older brother dies, just as I got to live when my younger brother died, and there is so very much in it for me that he’ll never believe I don’t want it. It doesn’t matter that I don’t want it, because I will have it anyway at Chingford’s expense, and that is all he or anyone else will see.”

“Hell’s teeth,” Will said. “What do we do?”

“Pray that Fairfax stabbed himself in the ear and was lying on a suicide note. Oh, that fucking fool. Would you care to flee to the South of France at all? I know we discussed it a while ago, but it seems even more appealing now.”

“Sounds good. In the meantime, shall we get incredibly drunk?”

“Let’s.”

They went back to Gerrard Mansions, where the telephone was ringing as they came in. Kim walked over, and jerked out the wire from the wall. Will didn’t comment.

Their abandoned dinner had been cleared away but Peacock had left a plate of sandwiches and a bottle of wine with two glasses. Kim filled both, and knocked back half of his in a gulp. Will ate the sandwiches while Kim worked his way to the bottom of the next glass, and then he got up and pulled Kim from his chair and kissed him, tasting red wine on his lips and tongue, until Kim’s rigid tension abruptly relaxed and he wrapped his lean limbs round Will’s sturdier frame.