Francis nodded and they set off up the stairs, finally coming to a stop at the door to Drew’s rooms. There was a pause after Lindsay’s knock, then the sound of footsteps, and finally the door swung open, revealing Drew, lit by a single candle. He looked rumpled, his neckcloth tugged at and several waistcoat buttons undone. Hair escaping from the queue at the nape of his neck.
He looked—wonderful. Immediately, Lindsay felt calmer than he had all day, his wolf settling back into his skin as Drew’s unmistakable flinty scent surrounded him.
“Drew—” Lindsay said. Then remembering Francis beside him, quickly added, “That is, Mr. Nicol, I hope you don’t mind us calling without warning?”
Drew’s eyes had widened on seeing Lindsay, but now he seemed to notice Francis too, standing at Lindsay’s side. His gaze shifted between them in puzzlement.
“I—of course not,” he said at last, stepping aside to grant them entrance. “Come in. I’m afraid my rooms are rather a mess though—I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
They followed him inside, down the corridor and into the parlour. Every available surface was covered in drawings and Drew quickly gathered them up, rolling them into cylinders.
“How may I help you?” he asked once he’d moved the drawings aside.
“Oh, it’s—just a social call really,” Lindsay said. “We were passing and thought we’d see if you were home.” He felt his cheeks flush at the lie.
Drew didn’t look convinced by that, but he said, politely, “I see. Well, may I fetch you a glass of wine? Or ale?”
Lindsay cleared his throat. “Some wine would be very pleasant.”
“And you, Mr. Neville?” Drew asked.
Instead of answering him, Francis turned to Lindsay and set his hand on his arm. “Good lord, I’m a dolt! I’ve just remembered, I’m supposed to be dining with Iain MacIntosh tonight. And I’m late! May I leave you here with Mr. Nicol?”
Evidently, Francis was satisfied that Lindsay was capable of controlling himself with Drew, if he was making his apologies this quickly.
Francis turned to Drew. “I’m so sorry, this is terribly rude. Will you forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Drew replied with a polite smile. Then, looking at Lindsay, he added a little more stiffly, “Are you also leaving, Mr. Somerville?”
“I—may stay for a little while,” Lindsay murmured. “If that’s all right?”
He caught the swift sharpening of Drew’s scent, though the man’s expression didn’t change. Did he want Lindsay to go? Or stay?
“Of course,” Drew said mildly. “Let me see Mr. Neville out, then I’ll fetch us some wine.”
“Thank you for understanding,” Francis said with a friendly smile as they left the room. “It’s the absolute height of rudeness to foist yourself on someone, then announce you have other plans. You must think me the most awful flibbertigibbet.”
While Drew saw Francis out, Lindsay paced the rug before the parlour fire, unsure what to say when the man returned.
Moments later, the front door closed and Drew was back. He stood in the doorway of the parlour, watching Lindsay with a curious expression.
“I’m sorry we disturbed you,” Lindsay said at length. “Though I’m not sorry to be alone with you now.”
Drew stepped into the room then. Closed the door then leaned against it. He appeared troubled and Lindsay wished he knew why.
“Why are you here?” Drew asked. “Really?”
“To see you,” Lindsay said. “I—wanted to see you one last time.”
“One last—” Drew frowned. “Are you leaving?”
Lindsay nodded. “First thing on Tuesday.”
Drew stared at him for several long moments and when he spoke his voice was hoarse. “Why so soon?”
“I expect to finish up my business here on Monday evening.”
Silence.
