by Kelley York
The Fletchers. I had a feeling. I wonder if I ought to join James, but he’s good at speaking to people. Perhaps sometimes he runs his mouth more than he should, but he’s good at empathising and people like him. I snatch a glass from one of the servers. “All work and no play.”
Adelia also claims a glass, but her sips are small and polite. “What do you hope he learns from them?”
“I’m not honestly sure they’ll have anything of use for us. I suppose we’re hoping to find out more about their son and Miss Edison. If they did, in fact, run away together. Did they encounter trouble after leaving? Is he the cause of her possession, or did he fall victim to her, as well?”
“I suppose we won’t really know until you find him.”
“We’re going to try. Your assistance tomorrow will hopefully help lead us to him, if he’s still alive.”
“You realise it may be more difficult now,” she murmurs. “If everyone is pushing back because they consider the mystery solved.”
The smile that pulls at my face is because it doesn’t bother me in the least. “I assure you, we’ve dealt with much more resistance than I believe we’ll face here.”
“Resistance?” another voice says.
I turn to see Reverend Thomas nearby, nursing a glass of something I suspect is not alcohol. When he sees the sharp look upon my face, he blushes. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Esher, Lady Adelia. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I merely meant—I hope no one is giving you a difficult time about your investigation.”
I will myself to relax. “Not at all, Reverend.”
He gives us both a quiet smile and nods, stepping closer. “Lord Wakefield had made it sound as though you’d found our murderer, but you don’t sound so sure.”
I glance at Adelia, whose expression has slipped back into the tight, polite mask she typically wears. It occurs to me that today, I’ve begun to see beneath that mask, in her conversation with us at lunch and again while dancing.
I’m not sure anyone is privy to details about our case, either, but… “There are some loose ends we need to wrap up. It would hardly be professional of us not to ensure all avenues have been fully explored, though I suppose I could ask if you knew anything about Miss Edison and Mr. Fletcher and their relationship.”
He hesitates, smile waning. “That’s a difficult question to answer. Some things are told to me in confidence.”
Adelia tips her head. “Would God not want you to do what you could to help those in need?”
Reverend Thomas heaves a sigh. “That is… Yes, I suppose that’s fair. I do know Mr. Fletcher and Miss Edison were very much in love, despite their parents’ disapproval.” He casts a wary glance around and moves in close to us, so that he can lower his voice without fear of being overheard. “They had a very set plan to run away together. I debated whether I ought to divulge this information to their parents, as they were both still children, but I felt it wasn’t my place.”
I drain the rest of my glass, already feeling like I’m going to need another for this conversation. “A plan, you say?”
“They went missing prior to the date Mr. Fletcher told me they were set to depart, but perhaps something happened. Perhaps their parents found out about their intentions and they sought to flee early to avoid being caught.”
Adelia touches my arm. “Then perhaps Mr. Spencer will have heard as much from the Fletchers.”
I nod in absent agreement, bringing a hand lightly against her back. “Thank you, Reverend Thomas. If it’s all right with you, we may stop by the church sometime soon to inquire further about this. For tonight, I’d hate to spoil the party with such serious talk.” Which isn’t true, but my anxiousness is making me eager to hunt down James and keep close to him and to find out what information he received. Not to mention, the alcohol has begun to go to my head, and I can’t fully focus on such a conversation.
Reverend Thomas bows his head in a gracious nod as I steer Adelia away, searching the crowd for James. “Things always get more complicated.”
I spot him across the room and he catches my eye and makes his way toward us. “There you are. Done dancing?”
The act of being near James is enough to calm me a bit, even if I cannot reach out to touch him like I want to. I am, however, beginning to feel tipsy enough that it almost seems like a good idea to slouch against him and shove my face against his throat, but I refrain. “Lady Adelia has helped me salvage this otherwise dismal evening, yes. How did your talk with the Fletchers go?”
“Uneventful,” he sighs. “They refuse to believe their boy would have left willingly, which is what I figured they’d say.”
“Well, to add another voice to the mix, Reverend Thomas proclaims the pair confessed to him they had plans to run away together.”
James’ eyes widen. “He betrayed confidences? He shouldn’t really have done that.”
“Adelia managed to convince him to spill a bit. God would want him to help bring them peace, after all.”
Still, a scandalised frown tugs at James’ face. “He’s not supposed to, regardless of reason.”
“Then I suggest not telling him any secrets while we’re here,” I say gently, suspecting this is more upsetting for him than it ever could be for me. “For our purposes, it’s a good thing he did.”
He sniffs. “Yes, well. The information doesn’t help us anyway. We have two different stories and proof of neither.”
“I think…” I trail off because my focus is rapidly diminishing. “We will… We will figure it out. At some point. Is that not what we’re good at?”
James’ gaze slides from me to Adelia. “How much has he had to drink?”
She pats my arm. “More than enough.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s only been a few.” I’ve lost count, but whatever. “I shall have another when I can find a server.”
James’ smile makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Of course you will.”
I give an indignant sniff. Just out of spite, I whirl away from them and seek out another drink.
And then another.
By then, I’m feeling good—normal, I daresay—and conversing and socialising becomes easy. I needn’t cling to James or Adelia’s sides for comfort, although habit has me returning to James periodically anyway.
Being like this, it’s freeing. I can chat to almost anyone in the room with ease, even Lord Wakefield himself, who seems delighted with the conversation.
James never once attempts to reel me in. I hear him murmur to Adelia at one point, “Watch him go. Remarkable, isn’t it? Two entirely different people.”
He could not possibly understand, I think. For at least tonight, I can pretend I am normal.
Eventually, the hour grows late, and many of the lower-class party goers have begun to leave because they need to rise early for work the next morning. The elite, of course, have no pressing schedules and I know from experience they’ll stay until the small hours if Wakefield permits it.
However, even as I flit about from person to person and have my share of dances with any woman who looks as though she might want to, I find my attention diverting back to James more and more. He stands there with that lovely smile upon his face, looking absolutely delectable. I could eat him up. I believe I shall tell him as much, too.
I make my way back to his side, doing my best not to look entirely obvious as I lean in to murmur against his ear. “I would very much like to take you back to my room and have my way with you.”
James nearly chokes on his drink in his attempt not to laugh. “Goodness. I think we should call it a night.”
He smells nice. I want to bury my face against his neck and run my hands through his hair. “Yes. Please.”
James nudges me into straightening up and turns to Adelia. “It would appear dear William has had too much to drink. I’m going to help him to his room.”
Oh. Yes. Right. I turn to Adelia with my most charming smile in place, taking her hand and bringing it to my lips to kiss the back of it. “Thank you for gracing me with a dance tonight.”
Adelia bites her lip, amused. “You’re most welcome, William. Do get some rest.”
“I believe I shall,” I announce, turning to saunter off. James catches me by the elbow after a few paces, gently informs me I’m headed the wrong way, and directs me out by the proper door.
As we exit the ballroom and head upstairs, I hum a tune beneath my breath. James ushers me into my room. “Here we go. Let’s get you to bed.”
He’s scarcely got me inside before I’m smiling and catching his tie in my hands, leaning into him. “Only if you’re coming to bed with me.”
His mouth twists up into a grin. “What happened to being careful?”
“I’ll lock the door.” I lean in to ghost my lips against the corner of his mouth, while reaching behind him to twist the deadbolt. “Everyone is preoccupied at the party, and if I don’t have you right now, I just might die.”
He laughs even as his arms loop around my shoulders to draw me closer. “You are ridiculous, and utterly adorable.”
I catch his lower lip between my teeth, drawing a shiver from him, before I slip free of his embrace and take a step back with a slow, sultry smile. I back away and begin to undo my tie, attempting to toe off my shoes as I go and damned near toppling over my own feet until I reach the sofa near the windows and sink onto it. I’m attempting to look seductive, but I’m entirely unsure whether or not I’m managing it. “Is that right?”
James smiles, slow and warm, and he bends to remove his shoes before following after me with the most gentle, adoring gaze. “That is entirely right.”
I drape myself upon the couch, watching James and beckoning to him. “Come show me just how much. I miss having your hands on me.”
“I would be happy to oblige.” He slides his coat from his shoulders and lets it fall to the floor. It’s only been a few days. Ridiculous, then, that I feel as though it’s been months. I reach for James as he nears me. He touches my face gently, ducking down to press his mouth against mine.
There is nothing in the world quite like James’ kisses. They possess the ability to be so careful and loving while eager and passionate all at once. I can feel every ounce of love and desire, warming every inch of my body. I sigh against his mouth, clutching at his sleeve with one hand and sliding the other to the back of his head, fingers threading into his hair and I hold him there to me. Slowly, I lean back, wanting to drag him down to the chaise longue with me.
He goes without protest, settling himself atop me as his hands smooth through my hair, down my jaw. “My sweet William…”
I’m dizzy with the effects of alcohol combined with the warmth of James’ mouth, and I find myself tugging at his shirt, the buttons, his tie and waistcoat, eager to free him from them. I don’t give a damn about the party in full swing downstairs. All I care about is getting James out of his clothes, getting my hands all over him, getting him inside of me. My eagerness seems to be contagious, because James’ movements become just as hurried.
No sooner has he unfastened his trousers than there is a knock at the door, and Adelia’s voice calls out in a hushed whisper, “William, James? Are you in there?”
I freeze at the sound, fear seizing hold. I’ve got James’ waistcoat and shirt off him, and my own is half-undone, and there is absolutely no way either of us is fit for company. I stare widely at James as I call, “Just—just a moment!”
James yanks his trousers up, attempting to straighten his hair. But his clothes are all over the floor and he appears to panic because in the next moment, he dives under the bed.
I push a hand through my hair and scramble for the door, pausing when I realise what James is doing and—well, whatever, I’ve already got the door open, adjusting my crooked glasses and peering at Adelia out in the hall.
She blinks back at me, though if she’s startled by my ruffled appearance, she doesn’t comment on it. “I’m sorry to be a bother, but I felt I should warn you that father was looking for you.”
I lean against the doorframe, doing my best to look sober and not as though I’ve just had my tongue in someone’s mouth and my hand down their trousers. “Ah…right. Yes. I will—um.” I clear my throat. “I will make sure I’m presentable.”
One corner of her mouth ticks up. “Mhmm,” is all she says before she turns away.
I lean out the door. “Wait, do you know what he wants?”
She turns back. “He wanted to discuss you finishing out your week here. He has a mind to ask you to find that missing boy. I just thought you might appreciate warning so he didn’t…” her gaze rakes over me, “...interrupt anything.”
Heat floods to my face. I can’t help the sullen look that I’m undoubtedly wearing. I just wanted to drag James to bed and this is preventing that from happening. “Of course. Thank you, Adelia.”
She dips her head in a nod and heads down the hall. I retreat to the room and shut the door, slumping against it with a low, whining groan. James giggles from under the bed and pokes his head out, earning him a scowl. “Oh, stop that,” I sniff sadly, stooping to retrieve his clothing from the floor.
He smiles sweetly. “Should I stay under here until you’re free?”
“He wants to speak to us both, and if he finds you’re not in here, he may go to your room to look for you.”
James slides out from beneath the bed and stands. “Well, that’s no fun.”
“He had better make this quick.” I hand over his clothes, give myself a once-over in the wash table mirror, and turn back to James to fuss with his hair while he pulls on his shirt.
“Very insistent tonight, aren’t you?”
“Have you seen yourself? No one could possibly blame me.”
“Flatterer.” His eyes are positively shining with want as he ducks in to kiss me. It drags some of the annoyance right out of me and I lean into him, head swimming.
“Not at all; I’m just a man hopelessly attracted to the love of his life,” I mumble.
“You’re so sweet.” His lips travelling across my cheek, down my jaw, mouthing lazily at my throat. I begin to lose myself in that, eyes shut, head tipped. A part of me is forgetting just why James is dressed again.
At least, until someone knocks upon the door again and I heave a heavy, frustrated sigh and drop my forehead to his shoulder. James only muffles a quiet laugh against my throat and pulls away.
“You should answer that.”
I give his shoulder a shove and step to the door to open it. “Ah, Lord Wakefield.” As though I’m surprised.
Wakefield has clearly had a few drinks of his own, but hardly as many as I have. He gives a slightly crooked smile. “Oh, good, Mr. Spencer is here with you. Might I pop in for a moment?”
Reluctantly, I step aside, stealing a glimpse around to ensure we’ve not forgotten any articles of clothing on the floor. “I apologise for ducking out early. I’m afraid we aren’t accustomed to these late hours.”
“No, not at all.” He waves a hand dismissively. “I merely wanted to ask, before you two made plans to return home… Would you be willing to stay, just a bit longer? To investigate the missing Fletcher boy.”
That’s what we wanted to do anyway, isn’t it? More time. “I think we would be agreeable to that,” James answers.
Wakefield’s face brightens. “That is most excellent news. I will, of course, ensure you’re compensated for your time. Any resources you need are at your disposal.”
I hadn’t expected more money, but I’m not going to argue it. From our conversation during the party, I know Wakefield is not a man hurting for money and hasn’t a clue he’s really overpaying us. I bite my lip sharply to keep from smiling like a bloody loon. I’ve had far too much to drink. “We have
a few leads we’ll begin following up on tomorrow.”
“I don’t know what I would do without the both of you.” He claps us on the shoulders. “Please, get some rest.”
As the door swings shut behind him, James turns to me with his face split into a gigantic grin. “We’ll be able to buy so much cake.”
I allow myself to laugh, re-locking the door. If I have any response to that, it’s to simply throw myself back into James’ arms, kissing him senseless.
Should we have any more interruptions, I will pitch an absolute fit. I despise the feeling of sneaking around, of worrying someone will overhear or walk in, but I’m drunk and James is beautiful and little else matters.
I’m the more reserved of the pair of us, but when the mood strikes me—well. James is compliant about getting us undressed again, stopping only long enough to retrieve that bottle of oil he brought along from home. I suppose I ought to thank him for being the prepared one for a change. Once we’re out of our clothes, I push him down to the bed and crawl atop him, the feel of his skin against mine sending shivers and sparks all along my insides. And it’s only then that I pause, breathing quickly, remembering myself.
James normally tenses up at this positioning, at having someone looming over him, and even in my alcohol-induced haze, I have no interest in crossing a boundary that will sap his enjoyment of this moment.
My hesitation makes James open his eyes, tongue swiping across his upper lip as he gazes up at me. Rather than lock up or give me that look that I know means I need to stop, he slides his hands up my thighs. “Hello, dear William.”
A breath catches in my throat in delightful, hopeful surprise. I lean down, hands planted against the bed on either side of him. “This is all right…?”
He smiles as he slips a hand between my legs. “Mhm. So far, so good.”
My lashes flutter closed, hips jerking down against his in response. If it’s all right with him, if he continues to be all right, then I have no qualms in kissing him, in taking him inside of me with a sharp intake of breath and an edge of pain that is tolerable only because we have become quite familiar with this. I brace my palms against his chest, nails biting gently into his flesh.
