Page 47 of A Case of Possession
“How long do you want?”
“The rest of your life.” Crane watched Stephen’s eyes widen. “For now, how about a fortnight?”
“Done,” Stephen said. “And…done.”
“God, sweet boy. I love you. I think I need to say that quite a lot.”
“Any time.” Stephen’s voice was a little shaky, his eyes bright.
There was a flurry of wings as a group of magpies caught up with them, five landing in a row on the railings, four right in front of them on the pavement. Crane counted automatically and couldn’t help grinning. “Look at that. Do the damned things know the rhymes?”
“I hope not. It’s nine for a funeral, isn’t it?”
Crane let the back of his hand brush Stephen’s arm. “Try, ‘Nine for a lover as true as can be’.”
“Oh. I like your version better.” Stephen bumped gently back against him, a little touch, nothing to which an observer could object. “Here’s the Traders.”
Crane slowed his pace as they approached the square brick building. “I want this business over. I think I could feel sorry for Peyton, you know, and that’s not something I’d often say.”
“So could I. But I bet Mr. Trotter couldn’t. Lucien, I want you to come to Hammersmith with me. You don’t have to talk to Peyton, or even witness the conversation, since I doubt it’ll be pretty, but I want you to stay close. And you can wipe that smirk off. Imeant, in case of rats.”
“Rats? Me?”
Stephen shrugged. “You were Hart’s friend. I don’t know how far this will go. Humour me.”
Crane lifted an acknowledging hand. “If you insist on me not dying horribly, I suppose I’ll have to indulge you.” He led the way into the relative cool of the entrance hall and nodded to the porter. “Hello, Arthurs. Can you whistle up Mr. Peyton’s direction for me?”
“Certainly, my lord, but do you want to speak to him? He’s lunching upstairs.”
Crane glanced at Stephen. “Really? That’s a stroke of luck. Yes, we’ll go up, never mind the direction.”
“What would you like to do now?” Stephen asked quietly. “Stay down here if it’s too close to home.”
“No, I’ll come with you. It might be easier to get a word in private that way.”
They headed up the stairs together, Crane torn between a flinching distaste for the job ahead and the temptation to head for the bar and order champagne. It had doubtless been a crashingly inappropriate time to raise the subject of their relationship, but now… He didn’t have to watch that look of pain and loneliness come back to Stephen’s eyes. He could take away the money worries, the fear of arrest, the quiet, constant fretting about a lonely future. He could treat Stephen as he deserved, and what was for certain, he would find a way to make sure the little sod was curled up in his bed every night, returning home to him, instead of vanishing wordlessly off to unexplained dangers.My little witch. Mine.He suppressed the urge to whistle.
“You look like the cat that swallowed the cream,” Stephen said softly.
“That comes later. Here’s the dining room.”
The small-windowed room with its dark wood furnishings looked particularly dingy against the bright sunshine outside. Peyton was sitting alone with a newspaper. He didn’t look happy to see Crane as they walked up to his table.
“Vaudrey. Oh, I beg your pardon,LordCrane.” He gave the usual sneer. “And your little friend.”
“Can we have a word with you?”
Peyton shrugged. “If you must. What is it?”
“In private, please,” Stephen said.
“I don’t particularly want to speak to you in private.” Peyton rustled his paper pointedly. “I’m waiting for my luncheon.”
Stephen put a hand on Peyton’s. “Listen to me. Get up and come with us now.”
Peyton got up immediately and followed as Crane led them to one of the small studies. Stephen came last, shutting the door, as Peyton blinked in surprise to find himself there.
“Mr. Peyton. Tell me about Arabella.”
