Page 44 of The Last Kiss

“Good.” Ash smiled a nervy smile. “Glad to hear it.”

If they’d been alone, Harry would have pulled him into his arms. Ash looked like he needed comforting. Instead, he pushed his hands into his trouser pockets and glanced around at the teeming street. “Well,” he said and lifted his eyebrows in query. “Nothing else to do this afternoon, then?”

“No.” Ash gave another tense smile and Harry began to wonder whether he was nervous about the night to come. If so, he wasn’t alone. A casual fumble round the back of the Old Stairs in Wapping was one thing, but tonight…? This would be something different. This, Harry knew full well, would make him fit for nobody else. Yes, Ash wasn’t the only one with butterflies in his stomach.

“We should find the Allens’ house,” Ash said, dropping the rest of his cigarette onto the pavement. Harry crushed it out for him. “Charles Street in Mayfair. I have a key.”

They took the tube to Green Park, Harry keeping a careful watch on Ash as he navigated the escalators. Neither of them spoke much, lost in their own thoughts, although they exchanged a couple of glances as they rattled along in the tube and again as they emerged into the afternoon sunlight.

It was a miracle nobody paid them any attention as they made their way through the London crowds, a miracle that their intentions weren’t clear. Harry felt as though his anticipation must be shining out of him, that he must be glowing like a hot coal. It felt impossible that nobody could see his feelings written on his face.

Charles Street was a well-to-do road close to Berkley Square. Ranks of black shiny front doors stood to attention in stately terraces along both sides, iron railings fronted the properties and respectable-looking servants, nannies and tradesmen bustled along. No one cast him and Ash a second glance, not even when Ash stopped outside one of the houses and squinted up at the number.

“Thirty-six,” he said. “This is it.”

Harry set down their bags and flexed his fingers. One set of steps ran up to the front door, another set led down to the basement — the tradesman’s entrance. For appearance sake, he wondered whether he should use it. But if the house was empty the door would be locked, and perhaps he was worrying too much. No one was paying them any attention. And so what if they were? What would they see but a gentleman and his servant?

Ash started up the steps without saying anything, and Harry followed with the bags. He couldn’t help smiling to see Ash manage the steps so fast, despite his duff leg, eager to get inside. Harry’s pulse picked up its pace too.

At the top of the stairs, Ash stopped and glanced over his shoulder, his face bright with excitement. Biting his lip, Ash pulled a brass key out of his coat pocket. His fingers shook so hard he fumbled getting the key into the lock and let out a shaky, laughing curse. Reaching past him, Harry closed his hand over Ash’s, and they turned the key together. When Ash looked back at him, heart in his eyes, it was all Harry could do not to kiss him right there in the open.

He wasn’t so foolish. Instead, he followed Ash into the silent house and breathed in the scent of fresh beeswax polish while the door closed behind them with a soft click. It was a grand place, though smaller than Highcliffe House. A large square reception hall gave way to stairs on the right and, on either side of the hall, doors opened onto reception rooms. In one of them, the furniture was still covered, but the other — a parlour — had been made ready for use. Fresh flowers stood on the table by the window.

“Well,” Ash said, placing the key on a polished table at the foot of the stairs.

Well indeed. Harry set down their bags and went to Ash, who hadn’t moved from the table. Putting his hands on Ash’s arms, he ran them down the sleeves of his coat until their fingers met and threaded together. Ash sighed, leaning back against him, and Harry let his lips find the curve of his ear and press a soft kiss into his skin. With a shiver, Ash sank more heavily into Harry’s embrace and Harry’s heart overflowed, affection flooding through him as he wrapped Ash in his arms and held him tight. This. This was what he’d longed to do all day, just to hold his friend close and safe. “You’re alright,” he said quietly. “You’re — ”

The quick clack of footsteps on the tiled hall floor had Harry starting like he’d been shot. Heat flooded his face, pulse pounding as he turned to find a startled maid staring at them over an armful of linen.

“Beg pardon, sir,” she said, bobbing a hasty curtsey. Christ alive, had she seen? “We didn’t think you was coming until later.”

Harry looked instinctively to Ash — Captain Dalton — as he’d always done in a crisis. Pale but calm, Ash said, “That’s quite all right. I’m sorry to have surprised you. My meeting was shorter than I’d anticipated.” He spoke in his most patrician tones, sounding like his own bloody father. After a pause, he added, “And I understood the house was unstaffed.”

“Yes sir.” The girl was a wiry thing who looked like she knew hard work. No more than fifteen, Harry would have guessed. “Mrs Palmer sent me and Betty over to open the place up for you, sir, and to put some food in the larder.”

“How kind. And Mrs Palmer is…?”

“My mistress, sir.”

A flicker of a smile touched Ash’s lips. “Yes. And a friend of Mrs Allen, perhaps?”

“Aye sir.” She bobbed another curtsey. “Betty’s just laying a fire in the bedroom, and then we’ll be on our way.” She glanced at Harry. “There’s linens in the servants’ rooms upstairs.”

“Thanks,” he said, the tension in his body loosening. Surely if she’d seen them together, she wouldn’t be acting so normally?

“What’s your name?” Ash said, fishing in his pocket.

“Sarah, sir.”

Ash set two half-crowns on the table. “One each for you and Betty,” he said. “With my thanks for making me welcome.”

Her eyes lit up. “Thankyou, sir.” She hesitated. “You want me to put the kettle on for tea or — ?”

“No, no,” Ash said quickly. “Thank you, but a couple of old soldiers like us can shift for ourselves. I’m sure Mrs Palmer is expecting you back.”

Once Sarah had left them alone, hurrying up the stairs, Ash let out a shaky breath and murmured, “Bloodyhell.”

“You think there’s any good whisky in this house? I could use a stiff drink.”

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