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The Gaston docked at the Port of Southampton on Thursday evening as forecast. Wesley and Sebastian went into the terminal building to wait for Arthur and Rory to disembark from second class.

Lady Nora and Dr. Wright were nowhere to be seen amongst the other passengers; perhaps they’d had a car waiting and left straightaway for wherever they were going.

Sebastian sat with their trunks as Wesley went up to the counter, where sure enough, he had several telegrams. He briefly sorted through the stack from his family and solicitor, and then paused.

He had a cable from Mateo de Leon, sent the day after they’d boarded the ship and labeled both urgent and private . He opened it first.

DO NOT LET SEBI TRY TO USE MAGIC AGAIN STOP BUT DO NOT TELL HIM ABOUT THIS MESSAGE STOP LETTER COMING TO EXPLAIN STOP

“What on earth,” Wesley said, staring at the cable. Don’t let Sebastian try to use magic? But don’t tell him that order came from his brother?

There were, of course, two particularly alarming things about the message.

First, the sender was Mateo—formerly able to see the future of magic, before Sebastian had bound his magic.

Mateo had once had a vision of Sebastian when he wasn’t supposed to be able to, and that vision had allowed Wesley to save Sebastian’s life.

Under no circumstances would Wesley ever disregard or even doubt his messages.

Which lead to the second alarming aspect of the message: as far as Wesley knew, no one had told Mateo that Sebastian had tried to use magic in the Magnolia. They certainly had not told Mateo that Sebastian had tried using magic onboard the Gaston .

But Mateo had used the word again in his cable. He already knew.

There were goose bumps on Wesley’s skin. “Your letter damn well better have an explanation,” he finally muttered, tearing the cable into tiny pieces and putting them in the bin.

He made some calls, including to his footman, Ned, and his tailor, Mr. Lloyd, then made his way back to Sebastian.

“Ned is arranging for accommodations tonight.” And before Sebastian could ask why Wesley wasn’t making plans to return to his own home, he added, “After all, why go all the way into London just to turn around and head west again for tomorrow evening?”

That was part of it, of course. But more than that, there was the question of what was going to happen when Wesley brought Sebastian to his home.

His staff were accustomed to Wesley having men over, but those men had always slept in the guest room, which allowed everyone to pretend nothing more illicit than billiards ever happened.

But obviously Sebastian wasn’t going to be sent to the guest room. Would Wesley’s staff still be willing to look the other way when he obviously had a man in his room night after night?

He pushed those thoughts away to deal with after attending the Beckley Hunt Ball. That would be a big enough battle to get through.

Arthur and Rory finally joined them, and all four squeezed into a single car for the ride to the inn Ned had reserved.

It wasn’t a long ride, but Wesley was ready to be on solid ground.

And he was frankly ready to get his hands on Sebastian, who was pressed up against his side in the cramped backseat as he talked to Rory.

Maybe Sebastian hadn’t had a blood terror last night, but he’d still had a nightmare the first time he’d tried to sleep without Wesley.

It’d left Wesley feeling raw and on edge, almost territorial again, made him want to chase those demons away and remind Sebastian’s mind and body that he was fully in the present.

The Swan he might have also been ready to have more space for him and Rory.

“Absolutely, Lord Fine,” Bertie said firmly.

“It was made very clear that you had a trying voyage and are in need of space and privacy,” which sounded like Ned had found a nice way to say that Wesley was a titled misanthrope who was prepared to pay handsomely to be left the fuck alone.

“We’ll have your luggage brought up and not a soul will set foot upstairs again unless requested.

In the meantime, we’ve set a light supper in the dining room now.

Will eight o’clock suit you for breakfast? ”

The dining room was at the rear of the inn, with a large fireplace and a wall of tall, narrow windows that might overlook the garden in the daylight. There was a rectangular table in the middle of the room, which was set with trays of fruit, cheese, and sandwiches cut into small squares.

“I’m sending an update by cable to Jade,” Arthur said, as they sat. “Though I don’t like not having news from her or Gwen. If we don’t have an update by morning, Rory and I might head south.”

Rory made a face. He’d piled his plate high and was already through most of it—probably enjoying his first full meal since they left New York. “I’m gonna hope for news. I don’t need to get on another ship.”

Wesley felt a foot hook around his ankle under the table. Done differently, it could have been seductive, but Sebastian wasn’t turning it into something more. Just another one of those affectionate gestures Sebastian seemed to do automatically.

What did Wesley do in this situation? Put his hand on Sebastian’s knee? His thigh? Would that be wanted, or would Sebastian think that was escalating into something to take back to their bedroom? Escalating too quickly, perhaps? Not in front of Arthur and Rory?

Ugh, this was exactly why Wesley didn’t engage in this kind of behavior. How was one supposed to know what to do? How did Sebastian always seem to know so easily?

And for fuck’s sake, in this raw and territorial state, how was Wesley now supposed to think of anything but Sebastian’s thigh, the way muscles would feel under his palm or the way Sebastian might shiver if Wesley let his fingers drift up—

Sebastian turned to look at him quizzically. “Everything okay?”

Great. Wesley had apparently made a sound, and not even a sexy one but a concerning one. “Just ready for bed.”

Sebastian’s lips curled up in a slightly wicked smile. “Tired?” he asked innocently, like his foot hadn’t just slid up the back of Wesley’s calf.

Arthur and Rory were focused on each other, Rory telling Arthur he had to try the cucumber sandwiches. Wesley dropped his voice to something lower and quieter. “Tired of not having you to myself.”

Sebastian leaned in. “Well, you know, I heard we’re going to have a bigger bed tonight because this handsome, thoughtful viscount has reserved a whole inn for the four of us.”

“Thoughtful and handsome? You’re not talking about any viscounts I’ve met,” Wesley said dryly.

“I’ll have to introduce you to him, then,” Sebastian said. “But I should warn you that he’s already taken.”

“Oh, he is?” Wesley’s lips curled up, a warmth in his chest that was part desire, part something else he couldn’t quite name. “Got himself a viscountess, does he?”

Sebastian grinned. His foot traced up the inside of Wesley’s leg, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine, and that was it, they’d waited long enough.

Wesley stood up. “Well, you two have your keys and we have ours. Goodnight.”

Arthur gave him an unimpressed look. “We should talk about tomorrow—”

“Breakfast is at eight. I don’t want to see another person until then.” Wesley grabbed Sebastian’s sleeve. “Come on, hurry up.”

Sebastian’s grin had turned amused. “You just said you didn’t want to see another person until breakfast—”

“You’re not people . Let’s go.”

* * *

“Wes,” Sebastian said, as they crested the stairs to the first floor and walked in step together down the hall. “I was thinking about the ball tomorrow, and—”

“No.”

They stopped in front of the door to a corner room. “You don’t even know what I was going to say,” Sebastian protested, as Wesley pulled the key from his pocket.

“Yes I do.” Wesley unlocked the door. “You were going to say you think you don’t need a tailcoat, that you can just wear your tuxedo, but I’m afraid you’re quite mistaken.”

Sebastian folded his arms.

“You’ll be at a hunt ball posing as a count’s son.” Wesley opened the door and held it for Sebastian. “That requires tails. Not a dinner jacket.”

“But—”

“And you cannot pout your way out of this one.”

That got him a dirty look as Sebastian stepped into their room. “I’m not pouting.”

“Now you’re pouting and lying.”