“Fine, old boy!” Sir Ellery Penfold was standing to give him a hearty wave. “There you are. Did you not get my message?”
Sir Ellery wasn’t the worst person Wesley knew. He’d actually served in the war, and these days participated in many of the same shooting exhibitions as Wesley. Sir Ellery was second cousin to Sir Harold Kerrigan, the man who had stolen the pomander from the Earl of Blanshard in the first place, and had employed Chester the valet prior to Wesley—well, before Chester had murdered Sir Harold and smuggled the pomander into America with Wesley as his cover. Though of course, Sir Ellery wouldn’t know that part, only that Wesley had hired Chester before the valet had been mauled by a tiger.
“How the fuck did you know I was in New York?” Wesley said, instead of hello.
“From Lady Tabitha.” Sir Ellery said it like it was obvious, like it should have been expected that a pesky thing like the Atlantic Ocean wouldn’t stop Wesley’s relatives from interfering in his life. “She found out from your footman, and she’s great friends with my aunt, who told her I was here too. Lady Tabitha says you’d turned down every girl in London and she’s willing to resort to an American one.”
Ugh. Wesley had found an American already, thank you very much, or, at least, a man with a complicated identity that included American. Next time Wesley would ensure his footman Ned knew not to tell anyone where he’d gone, particularly not distant family who were dead set on Wesley having an heir, or even better, finding his way to an early grave intestate.
“I had missed you when I called your hotel, but they said you had a reservation here,” Sir Ellery went on. “Figured we could catch you and we did.”
The other two men at the table had also stood, one of whom Wesley didn’t know, and the other one he knew very well. “Major Langford,” Wesley said to the white man on Sir Ellery’s right. “How unexpected to see you in New York.”
Where Sir Ellery was about Sebastian’s height, with brown hair and pale skin red across the cheeks and nose, Major Langford was as tall as Wesley, his straw-colored hair still cropped military-short and his posture still ramrod straight. Not particularly surprising to find the two of them together, whether in London or Manhattan; Langford seemed to keep in touch with everyone he’d known since the war. Hell, perhaps the War Office was recruiting Sir Ellery now.
“Hello, Fine,” Langford said neutrally. “I take it you didn’t getmymessage either.”
Wesley was spared having to answer by Sir Ellery, who was chattering again. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since Lady Blanche’s wedding—Mrs. Hartman now, of course.”
“Since spring for me,” Major Langford said, his gaze flicking between Wesley and Sebastian in a not particularly friendly way. “At a fundraiser in London. You had a different companion with you then, though. An American lieutenant.”
Yes, Lieutenant Arthur Kenzie, and don’t I wish it had been him here instead of the two of you.Wesley bit it back. Langford hadn’t been his commanding officer for years, but old habits apparently truly did die hard, as he still couldn’t quite bring himself to be rude to Major Langford’s face.
Sebastian was being quietly polite, as he seemed to default to around most people.A hard one to read, that was another thing Jade had once said about him. But not with Wesley, not anymore, and he could suddenly appreciate the contrast; how much of himself Sebastian held back around others compared to how open and playful he was with Wesley. The world was different when it was just the two of them: Sebastian comfortable enough to slip into Spanish and badger him about animals; Wesley’s jagged edges a little softer, his dark moods a little lighter.
He abruptly wanted that back. “I’m afraid I’m on a schedule,” he said brusquely, to Sir Ellery and Langford. “If you’ll excuse us—”
“Hang the schedule,” said Sir Ellery. “Come play the tables with me.”
Doubtful that Sir Ellery could afford to lose to Wesley at cards. Rumor had it their family’s finances were drying up, and Wesley might be a cad, but he wasn’t going to empty Sir Ellery’s pockets for him. “Can’t.”
“But you haven’t met our friend.” Sir Ellery gestured to the third man in their trio, who was pale and red-haired with freckles across his nose. “This is Mr. Findlay. Left Glasgow to make a name for himself in textiles here in New York.”
“Please, call me Alasdair.” The man, Alasdair, was probably around thirty, and still had quite a bit of Scotland in his accent. He was facing Wesley, for all intents and purposes paying full attention to their introduction. But his eyes hadn’t once stopped darting to Sebastian. “And you’re the Viscount Fine who hasn’t told us whoyourfriend is.”
Major Langford snorted. “Fine isn’t really thefriendtype.”
Sebastian shifted. It was a tiny movement, but Wesley was attuned enough to him now to pick that sort of thing up, the reminder that adangerous marshmallowmight be soft and sweet, but was, in fact, still dangerous.
“He’s got a companion, at least,” Sir Ellery said. “Introduce us already, Fine.”
Wesley met Sebastian’s eyes for a brief second. If Sebastian was irritated at being the object of three strangers’ stares and speculation, he was keeping it off his face. But then, he was keeping everything off his face right now. This Sebastian was closed off and unreadable, and would never shamelessly cajole anyone into the zoo.
Wesley bit back the less charitable things he wanted to say to the men who’d put Sebastian’s walls back up. “Gentlemen, this is Mr. de Leon.”
“De Leon?” Alasdair repeated. “Spanish, then? Quite a bit of history in the name.”
“In some places, perhaps,” Sebastian said, which was a tactful way to avoid sayingin the paranormal world, yes.
“But that’s fascinating, you must tell me everything about yourself.” Alasdair had stopped pretending to look at Wesley or anyone else. “I can hear the accent—where in Spain are you from?”
“Puerto Rico, actually,” Sebastian said.
“Is that right.” Major Langford folded his arms over his chest. “And what sort of association do you have with Fine here?”
“Yes, are you two traveling together?” Sir Ellery added. “I don’t believe you said one way or another.”
“Since when does my business concern anyone but myself?” Wesley said.
