Arthur pressed his shoulder a little more firmly against Rory’s.
The Kensington townhousewasas Arthur remembered it, four stories high with graceful bay windows on the ground and first floors. Some member of Wesley’s staff had arranged spring flowers on the front steps, bright yellow against the gray skies and white stone. Arthur had a moment of seeing double, his present layered over his past and the blur of days and nights spent drinking alone, missing Jade and the others, Wesley off somewhere busy with the deaths of his father and brother, his family’s estate, his new title.
There was a comforting pressure suddenly against his side, Rory discreetly leaning in. “Hey.” The rough word could somehow be soft when Rory said it, brown eyes searching Arthur’s from under the brim of his cap. “You okay?”
The knot in Arthur’s chest loosened. “Yes,” he said quietly. “Thank you.”
Wesley’s staff was the same as well, faces Arthur recognized but embarrassingly couldn’t put names to because he’d never bothered to learn who they were beyond “the cook” or “the butler” or “the fellow who made sure there was always whiskey.” Rory wasn’t going to be very impressed by that.
Their bags were left to the staff as Wesley led them into the familiar entrance hall. He clapped his hands together. “Well, Arthur hardly needs a tour, I’m sure.” He looked at Rory like he might look at a dog who’d walked in with muddy paws. “Do you? Is property something you have any interest in?”
Rory folded his arms. “Just show me where I’m supposed to sleep.”
“Arthur, you’ll be in the guest room on my floor,” Wesley started. “And your...friend...can have the extra room in the basement—”
“Rory’s taking the guest room,” Arthur cut in. “I’ll sleep downstairs by the staff.”
“Nah, Ace,” Rory said, shifting uncomfortably. “If there’s a better room, it’s yours.”
“Nonsense,” Arthur said pointedly. “He and I have history, yes, but you are as much his guest as I am, or as any lord or lady who’s come to visit.” He looked at Wesley. “He’s well aware I can sleep on the ground if I need to, and for all his posturing, he can and has himself.”
Wesley’s mouth flattened into a thin line, but he didn’t refute it.
“Lord Fine, you’re literally capable of manners fit for a queen,” Arthur added tersely. “I don’t care how you treat me, but Rory saved your life after you put his in danger. Act like the gentleman you’re supposed to be or we’re going to a hotel.”
Wesley’s gaze lingered on Rory, who was still fidgeting like he’d rather be anywhere else. Then Wesley sighed. “My apologies,” he said, with so much grace that Rory’s eyes widened. “Welcome to my home. Allow me to show you to your room.”
Rory turned his wide eyes on Arthur. Arthur gestured for Rory to go first, the two of them following Wesley up the main stairs.
“Ground floor has the library, dining room, and morning room, with the garden outside,” Wesley said, as they walked. “This floor is the drawing room and smoking room, with billiards, if you play.”
“What the hell is a morning room?” Arthur heard Rory mutter.
At the next landing Wesley led them toward the street-facing side of the townhouse. “Rory, this will be your room.”
Arthur had stayed in this room himself the last time he’d been in London, so similar to his own room in Manhattan with its dark wood furniture and hand-carved moldings along the ceiling.
Rory was staring at the large bed and windows overlooking the quiet Kensington street. “I really can just sleep on a couch.”
“Nonsense,” Wesley said smoothly. “To be fair, Arthur is going to get a bed that’s barely wider than a couch, but he asked for it.”
Arthur smiled despite himself. Rory looked like he might rabbit any second, however. “Give us a moment?” he said to Wesley, who rolled his eyes but backed out of the room.
Rory turned big brown eyes on Arthur. “Ace—”
“Darling, you need to be in here,” Arthur said quietly. “It’s far more private. If you’re downstairs with the men on staff and Zhang drops in, they’ll hear you talking to him. Doesn’t do us any good for me to have privacy; I can’t see Zhang if I’m standing in him.”
“But you’re too nice for a basement,” Rory said, almost whining.
“I am not too nice for a basement, especially not Wesley’s basement, which are actually quite fine quarters. And I like knowing you’re in the nicer room for a change.” There was no staff to be seen, so Arthur took Rory’s face in his hands and kissed his forehead where his brows were still furrowed together. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll sneak up here every night.”
Rory scoffed. “Oh, we’re really gonna get up to that when your ex is down the hall?”
“You don’t want to fuck me in his house?”
Rory nearly choked. “Jerk,” he muttered, belying the insult as he stood up on his toes to kiss Arthur right on the lips.
After a week with a bed about the size of a pencil case, Arthur would have liked to push Rory right down on the very convenient mattress that would actually fit them both. Instead, he made himself pull back. “Get settled,” he said. “If Wes is still keeping his old schedule, dinner will be in the dining room in probably about an hour.”
