Page 20

CHAPTER 19

T he last few guests were finally trickling out into the foggy London night, and Tessa found herself behind the bar, organizing the evening’s paperwork with a small, quietly satisfied smile that felt like the first genuine relaxation she’d experienced in weeks. The auction pledges and donation forms were better than she’d dared hope—not just the money raised, but the promises of support, the connections made, the momentum generated for the heritage application.

“Successful evening,” Sebastian said, appearing beside her with that quiet way he had of materializing exactly when she wanted him to. He leaned against the bar in a way that brought him close enough for her to catch the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the lingering candle smoke.

“Very successful,” she agreed, looking up at him with eyes that sparkled with triumph and exhaustion in equal measure. “Thank you for everything you did to make this happen. Those heritage board members you brought could genuinely change everything.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Sebastian said simply.

Something in his tone made her study his face more carefully. There was satisfaction there, and warmth, but also something that looked almost like guilt. Before she could analyze it further, the moment was interrupted by the sounds of cleanup around them.

Daphne helped collect abandoned wine glasses while Harry corralled his increasingly sleepy sons, both boys still wearing their miniature ghost-hunting equipment despite being barely able to keep their eyes open.

“The boys seem genuinely fond of your ghostly resident,” Daphne observed, nodding toward the corner where Malcolm and Ewan were having what appeared to be a final conversation with invisible companions.

“They’ve been noticeably calmer since Will started manifesting regularly,” Daphne admitted with a thoughtful smile. “I thought I was losing my mind when they first started talking about the sad soldier, but now I’m just curious about what they can see that the rest of us can’t.” Her expression grew soft with a contentment Tessa hadn’t seen in months. “It’s given me some breathing room I didn’t realize how desperately I needed.”

Tessa squeezed her friend’s hand with understanding. “You deserve that space. Being a perfect mother all the time is impossible.”

“Speaking of space,” Daphne said, glancing meaningfully toward Sebastian, who was helping Oliver retrieve coats from the back room, “you and our corporate developer seemed remarkably in sync tonight. Very...partnerly.”

Tessa felt heat rise in her cheeks. “We’ve been working together on the Will Donovan research. It’s purely professional collaboration.”

“Mmhmm,” Daphne said with a knowing smirk. “Absolutely. Just professional hand-holding under the bar.”

“That was...research,” Tessa said desperately. “Into Victorian...hand-holding techniques.”

“Of course it was,” Daphne agreed solemnly. “Very thorough research, I’m sure. How’s your methodology coming along?”

“You’re terrible,” Tessa groaned.

“I’m observant,” Daphne corrected. “There’s a difference. And speaking of observations, that man is absolutely gone over you. The question is, what are you going to do about it?”

Before Tessa could formulate a response that wouldn’t involve admitting she was equally gone over him, Oliver approached with the satisfied expression of someone who’d had an excellent evening.

“We’re touring three country properties tomorrow,” he announced cheerfully. “Alice is absolutely thrilled about the prospect of space and quiet.”

He looked directly at Sebastian with an expression that might have been invitation or challenge. “Perhaps you’ll join us for a country tour someday. There’s considerably more to life than glass towers and corporate boardrooms.”

Sebastian didn’t answer immediately, and Tessa saw something wistful and uncertain flicker in his eyes. “Maybe,” he said finally, and the single word carried more weight than seemed possible.

As the last of their friends departed into the Halloween fog, collecting sleepy twins and exchanging final compliments about the evening’s success, The Red Lion settled into peaceful quiet. The candles had burned low, casting longer shadows across the polished wood, and the fog outside pressed against the windows like curious fingers.

“I should probably head home,” Sebastian said, though he made no move toward the door.

“You probably should,” Tessa echoed, remaining firmly rooted in place beside him.

The air between them seemed to thicken with possibility. After hours of careful public behavior, of hosting and performing and being appropriate, they were finally alone together. The weight of everything unspoken—the contradiction of his position, the depth of their growing feelings, the impossibility and inevitability of what was happening between them—settled around them like the fog outside.

“Before I do something that scandalizes Will’s Victorian sensibilities,” Sebastian added, his eyes never leaving her face.

“Like what?” Tessa asked, her voice slightly breathless despite her best efforts to sound casual.

“Like kissing you senseless in front of his photograph,” Sebastian said honestly.

Tessa glanced at Will’s picture, then back at Sebastian. The vintage photograph seemed to be watching them with benevolent approval, as if the young soldier understood something about love delayed, about chances that shouldn’t be wasted.

“He lived through the Blitz,” she said softly. “I think he can handle a bit of romance.”

“Dangerous thinking,” Sebastian warned, stepping closer until she could feel the warmth radiating from him.

“I’ve always been dangerously inclined,” Tessa replied, tilting her face up toward his. “Haven’t you figured that out by now?”

“Have you now?” Sebastian’s voice was barely a whisper. “And here I thought you were just a respectable pub owner.”

“Shows how much you know,” she said, her heart hammering against her ribs as his hand came up to cup her cheek.

For a moment, they simply stood there, the candlelight flickering between them, the weight of possibility and inevitability hanging in the fog-touched air. Tessa could feel herself trembling slightly—not from cold, but from the intensity of wanting him, of being wanted in return, of standing on the precipice of something that would change everything between them.

Then Sebastian reached for her hand with deliberate intention. She met him halfway without hesitation, their fingers lacing together in a gesture that somehow felt more intimate than a kiss.

“Goodnight, Tessa,” he said softly, his thumb tracing across her knuckles in a caress that sent shivers up her arm.

“Goodnight, Sebastian,” she replied, squeezing his fingers gently. “Thank you for tonight. For everything.”

“Thank you for letting me be part of it,” he said, lifting her hand to press a gentle kiss to her knuckles that made her breath catch. “Sweet dreams.”

When he finally stepped into the fog-shrouded London night, Tessa remained behind the bar, her hand still tingling with the memory of his touch and her heart full of possibilities she was finally ready to acknowledge.

The vintage photograph moved again with deliberate intention. A cool breeze passed through the pub despite all the windows being closed, carrying with it the faint scent of autumn leaves and something indefinably nostalgic.

“Happy Halloween, Will,” she whispered, watching the photograph settle back into its frame.

On the wall behind her, Will’s photograph straightened itself one final time with a quiet scrape that sounded almost like approval.

“I know,” Tessa said to the empty room, smiling at the image of the young soldier who’d been patiently waiting eight decades for his own love story to find resolution. “You approve of him, don’t you? Even if he is trying to buy your pub.”

The photograph seemed to settle more firmly into place, which Tessa chose to interpret as ghostly endorsement.

“Well then,” she said, beginning to blow out the candles one by one, watching the golden light give way to the silver glow of fog-filtered streetlights, “I suppose that’s settled.”

For the first time since uncovering Will’s remains, The Red Lion felt truly peaceful—not like a place haunted by unfinished business, but like a sanctuary where new stories were beginning to unfold alongside the old ones. Whatever complications lay ahead, whatever contradictions needed to be resolved, tonight had been perfect.

And Sebastian had been part of making it perfect.

That had to mean something.