Sebastianhadsurvived the war, but he said, “You have to tell me you wouldn’t hurt a dog,” instead of correcting Lord Fine, because this was what mattered. “Lord Fine, you took in my stray cats.”
“I did no such thing. My cook’s daughter took them in. She’s a ridiculously soft and sentimental creature; you two would get along swimmingly.”
“You agreed she could have them.”
“Well—look, she’s only eleven, and she’s beensadrecently because I—ugh, all right, if you’re going to make those ridiculous eyes at me until you hear it spelled out,” Lord Fine said testily. “Yes, I was bluffing about Powderpuff. That is all the concession you’re going to get and I make no promises about what else I might or might not shoot, but your cats will live a happy, spoilt life in Mrs. Harrick’s kitchen. Miss Elsie squealed so loud when she saw them, she almost brought the house down.”
“Really?” Sebastian brightened. “Did she name them yet?”
Lord Fine pinched the bridge of his nose. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Why wouldn’t it matter?”
“Because they’re cats! I don’t give a fucking toss for people’s names; what do I care what the felines are called? You seem to think I’m going to stand here and tell you things just because you want to hear them, but I assure you that I will not be so easily persuaded.”
Sebastian stuck his hands in his pockets again. “Are they cute names?”
“For fuck’s sake.” Lord Fine narrowed his eyes. “She named them Crumpet and Flan,” he said tartly, then pointed at Sebastian. “Not another word out of you. I don’t want to hear if you think that’s obnoxiously precious, and I expect you to stop pouting now. Can we carry on? I thought we were on the two o’clock.”
They boarded the train fifteen minutes later, where Sebastian had bought tickets for adjoining compartments in first class. As he set his rucksack on the plush seat in his own compartment, Lord Fine appeared in his sliding doors.
“We’re not sharing?” he said, one hand on the door, watching Sebastian with an unreadable expression. “I understood we have to keep a certain proximity for that tattoo of yours to work for me too.”
“This is close enough,” Sebastian promised. “You can lock your own door, yes? I assumed you would want the privacy.”
Lord Fine’s eyes narrowed. “And why did you assume that?”
Because you didn’t sleep at all last night because of me, and I thought you would want to sleep without fear.“Because—”
“I feel certain you wouldn’t dare say it’s because you still assume I’m afraid of you,” Lord Fine went on, light and dangerous. “Not when I’ve just told you to treat me like a competent man.”
“Oh.” Sebastian floundered. “Um. Because you are...tall?”
“Tall.”
Sebastian smiled weakly. “You need space to stretch out?”
Lord Fine rolled his eyes, and pulled the wooden doors shut with a very final jerk.
In his own compartment, Wesley shut the curtains on his internal sliding door, blocking out the train’s hall, then snuck his cigarettes out of his coat and smoked two in a row, letting the smoke float out the train window as they pulled out of the station.
So. Magic was real.
Wesley probably should have been alarmed, or angry, to discover that all this time there had been a clandestine supernatural world under his nose, and he’d never known. But it was—interesting. The most interesting thing that had happened to him in an age. The other people he knew were content to attend parties, or wear pretty clothes, but here Jade, Mr. Zhang, and Sebastian were, apparently hunting down paranormal murderers.
And now Wesley was part of it.
It was absolute lunacy, of course. But as the train picked up speed, Wesley felt the vibration in his heart, like the leaden stone in his breast was capable of—not feelings, of course, but purpose, at least.He’d choose the risks that came with trying to stop paranormals like Mercier and the Earl of Blanshard over sitting useless and ever more bitter at home. Nothing like a magical attempt on one’s life to get the blood stirring.
He glanced at the wooden wall that separated him from Sebastian in the next compartment.
There was admittedly more than one thing stirring his blood these days. And as it turned out, the handsome bastard next door wasn’t a criminal at all, but a man who’d gone through hell yet still lit up when he talked about kittens.
Still, handsome or not, criminal or hero, Sebastian had bloody well better treat him like a full partner and not a useless sot, or he’d quickly discover just how competent Wesley actually was.
In fact, Wesley had quite a number of skills he’d like to show off to Sebastian. After all, at the manor they’d have privacy and a very large bed—
And that was Wesley’s mind once again barreling down its singular track with more speed than the train.
