Rory made a face. “Nine.”
“Nine?” Lord Fine straightened, looking scandalized. “Christ, Arthur, did you leave my house and go straight to a nursery?”
Arthur groaned. “I did not, at any point, actually go looking for a twenty-year-old—”
“Twenty-one now, thanks,” Rory said irritably.
“Oh, twenty-one,” Lord Fine repeated. “Aren’t you precious and grown up.”
“You’re supposed to be polite,” Arthur said, as the footman entered.
Rory didn’t talk much at dinner. The food was good and he was tired and in a strange place, so he quietly ate as Arthur and Lord Fine caught up about Arthur’s family and Lord Fine’s friends. Rory could read between the lines, and it was becoming clear that Lord Fine’s friends were mostly other people with titles that he didn’t seem enthusiastic to talk about, and that he didn’t have family beyond some distant cousins.
Rory reluctantly felt a pang of empathy. Maybe it wasn’t just manners that brought Lord Fine back from the countryside to insist Rory and Arthur stay with him.
Lord Fine offered a nightcap after dinner. “Nah,” said Rory, because one experience with losing control of his magic thanks to booze was enough. He wasn’t eager to find out what he might try to do with the wind if he drank. “You two go.”
Arthur and Lord Fine both looked at him in surprise. “You don’t mind us drinking alone together?” Lord Fine asked.
Arthur met Rory’s gaze questioningly, and okay, maybe Rory deserved that, considering a couple months ago he’d nearly taken out the ceiling of Zhang’s library over Lord Fine’s stolen kiss. But Rory wasn’t going to keep Arthur from enjoying time with whoever he wanted. The idea that he might ever be that kind of jealous over Arthur made Rory squirm.
“I’m not Ace’s jailer.” Rory leaned forward, into Lord Fine’s space. “You just keep your lips off him.”
Lord Fine raised an eyebrow. “You’re so surprisingly brave sometimes. It makes one wonder what you’ve got to back it up. Are you a student of a fighting discipline?”
“He’s a man of many talents,” Arthur said hastily. “Wes, I’ll take that drink upstairs.”
At the landing, Lord Fine headed toward the smoking room. Rory took a step toward the next flight of stairs, but Arthur gently snagged his wrist. “Join us?”
Rory hesitated. “Idotrust you, you know,” he said, swallowing. “I don’t need eyes on you.”
“I want your company,” Arthur said. “You might even enjoy it; he’s usually got Cuban cigars, if you’re curious to try one, and I’ll be stripped to my shirtsleeves and bent over the billiards table.” He lowered his voice. “You can watch Wesley trounce me at pool, and then you can trounce me any way you like.”
A shiver of want went through Rory. “Yeah,” he said hastily. “Yeah, all right, I’m coming.”
Rory got back to his room an hour later to find someone had come in during dinner. They’d closed the curtains, tidied the two things Rory had left out, and turned down his duvet. Geez, Lord Fine was too good to turn down his own blankets?
He checked his suitcase and found the ring box in its place, a quick peek confirming the flash of gold within. He hastily shut it; he really didn’t need access to the wind around Lord Fine. He shucked his suit and stretched out on the bed on his back with his book.
It was as comfortable as Ace’s bed in Manhattan, the sheets far softer than the ones on the boat. Rory tried to read, but the words weren’t making much sense, and after a page, he let his head fall sideways against the fluffy pillow and closed his eyes.
What felt like only moments later, someone was gently taking his glasses off.
Rory’s eyes fluttered. “Ace?”
“Would you rather I were Wes?” Arthur’s voice was low and teasing. The room was dark now, Arthur having turned off the light, and he was setting Rory’s glasses on the nightstand. “Come here.”
Arthur spooned behind Rory, his arms coming around him to pull him against his shirt-covered chest.
Rory settled in, soaking in Arthur’s warmth, then distantly remembered, “We had planned—”
“This is just as good a revenge, if revenge is what you’re after,” Arthur said softly. “Wesley and I would never have just lain together like this.”
“Why not?” Rory said sleepily. “If anyone needs a good cuddle, it’s that asshole.”
Arthur made a soft half laugh. “Perhaps, but he didn’t want it from me. We were both so outrageously lonely when I was here but unfortunately terrible at comforting each other. We mostly just fought.”
“Bet Lord Fine never blew apart your best friend’s speakeasy ’cause he got jealous, though.”
