Moon Flower

When Azriel moved behind the counter to retrieve something, Madam Langley looked between them before leaning closer. “The same rules apply.”

“I understand.” He felt his face grow hot, and he wondered if she could see it—his draw to Azriel, how much the man appealed to him. But there were conditions to living at Moon Flower, and they had a vested interest in keeping the establishment running smoothly. He understood how interacting in a more intimate way with the men while they lived and worked together might complicate things. Now he was even more curious how that rule came about.

“I will also make some inquiries on behalf of your friend, Agnes; perhaps her services might be of use at Enchantment,” Madam Langley said as she motioned to a customer over Galen’s shoulder.

Galen gaped at her. “Th-thank you,” he said, fumbling his words.

“That’ll cost you double,” she said with a wink.

He dipped his head. “Of course.”

“Now that you’re more than a guest, I will officially offer you room and board for your services at Moon Flower—above and below,” she said. “In addition, the lads earn a small compensation to help with any personal needs. You can choose to spend it on anything you like. Some even save a portion, for their future undertakings.”

“Sounds very reasonable.” Galen’s stomach filled with warmth. “Thank you.”

Upon his return to the rooms upstairs, the enthusiastic greeting he received—even from Edward—made him feel as if he’d always belonged there, with these lads who acted more like a family than employees at a bawdy house. And for now, he’d revel in it while he had the chance.

The following week went much like he remembered. He helped wherever he was needed—in the rooms, in the apothecary, or in today’s case, in the kitchens, assisting Miss Celestine in making her famous biscuits. Just smelling them made his mouth water. He’d thoroughly enjoyed smothering them in clotted cream his first meal back at the long table, and didn’t even bat an eyelash when Oscar poked fun at his voracious appetite.

“I’ve heard you can draw very well,” Miss Celestine said as he helped her knead more dough.

“Thank you,” he replied, flattered by the compliment. “I’ve gotten better with time and practice.”

“Do you think…” Pink dots appeared on her cheeks. “Would it be a bother to draw my likeness…for my beloved?” she asked, and he realized he hadn’t even considered that Miss Celestine might have an entire life outside of Moon Flower.

He wanted to ask more questions but didn’t want to press. He hoped he’d learn more over time. “I would be honored.”

Once the tarts were set to bake, Galen retrieved his drawing pad and pencils from his bag. He sat on a stool and watched Miss Celestine work as he drew her likeness. She was timid about his scrutiny at first, so he asked her questions, and learned that her fiancé’s name was Harris, and she had stars in her eyes when she mentioned him, which made her look even more lovely.

With time, she forgot his presence and got lost in her tasks, and that helped Galen feel more comfortable as well.

Except once the drawing was complete, he felt shy about showing her.

Her squeal upon seeing her resemblance assuaged his nerves. “You flatter me.”

He smiled. “I only draw what I see.”

She kissed his cheek. “Well, now you must sign it. To show you are the artist.”

No one had ever asked him to do such a thing before, and it made it feel…special.

That night, after a game of charades and backgammon where Oscar was his usual animated self, they all retired to bed. Sparrow was sitting quite close to Wren on his bed, practically on his lap, and Galen wondered if something had transpired or if Sparrow was just being overly affectionate. He tried not to stare as Wren stroked Sparrow’s neck and shoulders, but there was something so sweet and sensual about it, he was again filled with quiet longing.

Thankfully, his attention was captured by Oscar’s bickering with Edward, and when he looked over his shoulder, he noticed Azriel pacing in front of the window. Two books lay open on his bed, and Galen wondered if what was consuming his mind was the same thing he seemed distracted about at dinner.

“He also wore out the floorboards when you were gone,” Wren whispered, and Galen’s gut tightened.

“He requested daily reports once we finished with our errands,” Sparrow added. “We were all concerned.”

“Why did it trouble you so?” Galen asked.

“Did you forget the condition we’d found you in?”

He winced. It had almost happened a second time.

Once all the oil lamps were snuffed out—except for Azriel’s—and Galen could hear the soft snores from the other lads, soothing in their own right, he reached for his drawing pad and climbed out of bed.

Azriel’s eyes glowed upon seeing Galen. He patted the seat beside him, and Galen did not hesitate to sink down and revel in the warmth of his shoulder and thigh pressing against him.