Seeing the man who had tortured Arthur, even through scrying, might have been the trigger for Rory’s loss of control. Wesley probably ought to give him a shred of grace. “Could you tell if your magical binding on him is holding?” he asked, trying to find a less judgmental tone.
“I think so,” Rory said. “He didn’t react to anything, not even when the nurse came up and said his relative was here. Whoever came for Hyde wasn’t in the garden, though; the nurse wheeled him away.”
Sebastian was paging through Hyde’s file. “Says in here he was checked out by a relative to convalesce with family. Doesn’t give the relative’s name or an address.”
“Who the hell could make off with a hospital patient and not even give a name?” Arthur said.
“A duke,” Rory suggested darkly. “Rich assholes can do whatever they want. No offense, Fine.”
“It’d be quite hypocritical to take offense when the staff just acquiesced to my demand for records I shouldn’t have.” Wesley made a left turn to the road Sebastian had driven down. “Lord Valemount quite possiblycouldclaim whatever he liked and then demand anonymity in the records for protection.”
Sebastian ran a hand through his hair. “We’re going to that ball tonight. Valemount will be there; we’ll see what we can learn.”
“But if Rory’s magic is holding, then we know Hydedoes, in fact, have three types of magic,” Arthur said. “Is that what whoever’s behind this wants from him?”
“That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Wesley said grimly, and drove on.
Chapter Fourteen
The downpour didn’t let up, making the slow drive down the country roads even slower. They only made it back to their inn very late in the afternoon and Sebastian and Wesley had to scramble upstairs to change.
Wesley made quick work of getting into his dress coat and ensemble, doing up the many buttons of his shirt and adjusting the starched white waistcoat. On the nightstand were the two small boxes he’d asked to be delivered alongside his evening wear. He hesitated for a moment.
No, for fuck’s sake, he wasn’t going to chicken out of this, especially not when Sebastian was being dragged to a hunt ball of all places. Wesley wasn’t going to choose the comfort of cowardice over the chance to make Sebastian smile.
He picked up the older of the two boxes and looked across the room. Sebastian was standing in front of the dresser mirror, getting his white bow tie in place around his high, stiff wingtip collar. His fingers were nimble and sure as he tied the bow tie as easily as if he wore them daily. Had there been a time when Sebastian had worn bow ties often, and gotten the practice? Or was he just skilled at learning and remembering movement,whether dancing or shooting or dressing? Why did Wesley not know which it was, yet?
Sebastian smoothed the finished bow tie, and Wesley felt the echo of those fingers along his own throat; after all, his body knew damn well how skilled Sebastian could be with his hands.
Sebastian glanced up then, and their eyes met in the mirror. His lips curled up in a fond sort of smile, like seeing Wesley had made him happy. “Did you have an opinion about my bow tie?”
“Just that I like it.” Wesley tilted his head. “I was actually just thinking that there’s so much I still don’t know about you. You must be the most fascinating man I’ve ever met.”
“Oh.” Sebastian ducked his head. “I am not so fascinating, though—very simple, really. I like the ocean, and cats, and you.”
“That last one is a rather rare quality, albeit not a particularly wise one.” Wesley cleared his throat, the box feeling oddly heavy in his hand. “I, um.” Christ, was he stumbling over this? Wesley forced himself to straighten. “I thought you might need more formal accessories for tonight, so I had Ned send an extra pair of—well. Here.” He stuck out the box more abruptly than he’d meant. “Cufflinks.”
Sebastian took the box, tilting his head as he opened the lid. “Are these—yours?”
“An inherited item, which I never wear, and I just thought, given that you needed a pair for tonight, and your affinity toward animals, and that it really was never my intention to drag you to a gala with hunting at its core—”
Wesley bit his tongue. For fuck’s sake, he was babbling.Clearly Sebastian ought never to be allowed into formal wear; the sight had scrambled Wesley’s ability to articulate.
Sebastian was lifting one of cufflinks out of the box, studying it closely. “Wait.” His eyes lit up. “Are these little sheepies?”
“Sheepies?” Wesley pinched the bridge of his nose. “No.Those are rams.Rams.Like the fountain at Shepherd Hall. They were made for my great-great—you know, it doesn’t matter. I inherited them but I’ve never worn them and if they’re not to your liking—”
“I love them.”
“You do?”
“Such a clever design, to hide the ram in there.” Sebastian was smiling as he turned the cufflink, the light catching the gemstones along the edge. He glanced up at Wesley. “Didn’t you tell me, when we were in your Yorkshire garden, that your mother’s favorite animals on the farm next door were the lambs?”
He’d remembered that. There had been lambs in Wesley’s life, once upon a time, innocence and gentleness, things he hadn’t known again until he’d handcuffed Sebastian to his bed in London and discovered he’d caught a man who cared more for dogs and foxes than his own safety.Yes, Wesley went to say, only his throat had gone tighter. He nodded instead.
Sebastian held out his right arm. “Help me put them in?”
Wesley exhaled in relief. A task that needed doing—excellent, he could handle a task. Sebastian held still for him as Wesley aligned his cuff and fastened the cufflink into place. Then he stuck out his left arm, andWesley’s fingers were wrapping around the lion tattoo on his inner wrist.
