And caught snowflakes on his tongue.
Chapter Five
Arthur
Arthur was in trouble. He was in more trouble than he had been in since he had impregnated Ella. Because he could not, for the life of him, stop himself from trying to woo the ever-intriguing pressman and compositor, Jesse O’Connor. Over the course of their lesson, Arthur had behaved shamefully, the comfort of his social standing emboldening him to be brazen in his flirtatiousness. Arthur knew that, regardless of where things with Jesse might eventually end up, Jesse couldn’t touch him, socially speaking. And he knew, too, that he himself would never hurt Jesse, either socially or professionally. So, Arthur had felt safe—shamefully safe—being playful and touchy and oh-so-many other things that he ought not to have been.
Initially, Arthur’s overly familiar manner of interacting with the man hadn’t beenentirelypurposeful on his part. He had simply become too caught up in his crush to rein himself in. But then, when Arthur had come up behind Jesse, when he had practically pinned Jesse to the Grasshopper press, Jesse had essentiallycommunicated that he reciprocated Arthur’s interest.
Or, well, he had sort of communicated it. In a way.
Letting out the softest sigh, Jesse had whispered a husky“Jesus, fuck”in the most seductive voice, the words barely even loud enough for Arthur to hear. Hell, there was a chance that Jesse may not have even realized he had let out that breathy obscenity in the first place. But he had. And Arthur had heard it.
Seconds later, once they were finished with their task, Arthur had backed away, his heart hammering and his head spinning, only for Jesse to then confirm Arthur’s sudden suspicion that his newfound crush was mutual. Jesse had turned to face him, his cheeks flushed as though they had been engaging in somethingmuchmore sordid than simply setting up the press to print a paper for them, and there had been an unmistakable look of yearning in the man’s eyes.
God, that had done it.
From that moment forward, Arthur had begun pursuing Jesse in earnest, saying things that he’dknownwere much too playful, much too familiar, for him to have been saying to his new friend. Arthur had then taken every opportunity to put the two of them in close proximity, wordlessly begging Jesse to reciprocate each and every one of his touches.
It had been unwise. Lord, it had been worse than unwise. It had been foolish.Dangerous, even. But it was as though Jesse had unearthed something inside him. Multiple somethings—the first being Arthur’s interest in men and the second being his outright contempt for social norms and his desire to blatantly disregard them.
Arthur had never been keen on following the rules back when he’d been a younger man. Or especially when he’d been a child. He hadn’t possessed much of a sense of self-preservation, either. It seemed that, in some ways, Arthur really hadn’t changed. Perhaps it was only by sheer luck that, ever since Ella’s untimely passing, no other man or woman had caught his eye. Everyone in Arthur’ssocial circle was either married or boring or both. For those first few years after Ella’s death, Arthur had considered remarrying, but he hadn’t managed to muster up the will to court anyone. He’d been beside himself with grief. He’d been busy trying to figure out how to be a father and how to not bleed through the money his parents had felt forced to give him too. And, most impactfully, he hadn’t been even a little interested in the women who had been available to him.
Thankfully, his parents had stopped pestering him once Emma was four or five. Around then, Arthur had become fairly certain that he’d never pursue anyone ever again. But now, things had changed. Because Arthur had met Jesse.
Jesse was something else. He had a spark inside him, one that Arthur couldn’t help but find exciting. He was intelligent, too. Sometimes, when Jesse had been explaining the workings of the machines, Arthur had become completely lost in the man’s voice, eating up every word he said and silently marveling at how brilliant he seemed to be. Because Jesse hadn’t only relayed thehow, but thewhy. And not only the superficialwhy, either, but the engineering, thescience,behind every press.
Jesse O’Connor wasfascinating.
And Arthur was completely, irrefutably, hopelessly besotted with him.
All of these thoughts swirled in Arthur’s head as he watched the snow fall from where he sat inside the carriage, the clip-clop of his horse’s hooves lulling him into a lovesick trance. He couldn’t even imagine what Charlotte would say when he confessed to her later. And hewouldconfess to her. Because Arthur told Charlotte everything. It was probably the only thing that had helped him hold onto reality once Ella passed. Sighing internally, Arthur covered his mouth with his hand. Oh, Charlotte wouldnotbe happy with him.
After Arthur’s coachman, Patrick, slowed the carriage, Arthur hopped out of the cabin himself, not bothering to wait for the man to come around to let him out. Arthur turned as he rushed toward the house, calling out to tell Patrick that he was in a hurry, which wasn’t entirely a lie. Hewasin a hurry. He was eager to talk to Charlotte so that he could get his inevitable scolding over with and move on to waxing lyrical about Jesse instead.
Arthur entered the house with a very loud, “Charlotte! I need to talk to you!” And as Arthur crossed the reception room, Charlotte came out from the parlor, her face marred with worry, wrinkles etched across her forehead.
“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Arthur said. “At least, not to me, thoughyou’llprobably—”
“I can’t find Emma.”
Charlotte’s words were like a kick in the teeth, and Arthur recoiled with shock.
“I’m sorry, what?”
Perhaps he hadn’t heard her correctly.
Charlotte came closer, her eyes pleading. “I’m sure she’ll be back soon, but she’s not here. She must have slipped out when I was busy. I thought she was reading in her room, but then I went to tell her that it was time for us to work on her needlepoint and, well, she wasn’t there. I’ve checked everywhere since.”
Arthur shook his head, momentarily too befuddled to find his words.
Finally, he managed to splutter, “When was this?” as horrible scenarios involving boys and pregnancy and the mistakes of his own youth began flashing through his mind.
“Three or perhaps . . . four hours ago?”
Charlotte covered her mouth with her hand and closed her eyes, seemingly fighting back tears. Arthur took care to soften his furrowed brows. He wasn’t upset with Charlotte and couldn’thave her think that he was. It seemed that his sort of behavior was likely in Emma’s blood.
“Charlotte, everything is fine. Or, everythingwill befine,” he said. “I’m sure Emma is only out exploring the city. Perhaps visiting the Berkeley’s. She and Lizzie are close.”
