Gossamer in the Darkness (Fantasyland)

He’d sense wrong since that would be difficult to discuss, since I wasn’t banished.

Which was probably why I flinched.

He didn’t miss it and bit off, “Precisely.” Then he drew in a very deep breath and stated, far more gently, “That was reprehensible of me, darling. I should never have mentioned it. It is yours to share if you wish, or not, if that is as you wish.”

I evaded by saying, “Can you and I have time, just you and me?”

“Of course, sweeting,” he whispered.

“So you know where my mind is, I just got Maxine back too. I don’t really want to be in The Mystics right now.”

The Mystics, by the by, being due east.

“Of course.”

“Can we start kissing again?”

He gave me a tender look and moved to me.

He cupped my jaw and declined, gallantly.

“I need to spend time with your mother and sister.”

“Right.”

“And Maitland is never good on his own for too long. He easily finds trouble.”

“He’s in my sitting room. There’s no trouble to be found there.”

“He could be painting the walls with Maxine by now.”

I laughed softly.

“Don’t mind me, my dearest,” he said quietly. “I’m travel weary. I made haste in getting back to you. I’ll be myself tomorrow.”

He was totally lying.

Though, the “made haste” part was super sweet.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he replied.

I smiled, and I was so worried, I didn’t quite mean it.

Loren did the same.

But I feared he had a different reason for not meaning his.

Chapter Fourteen

Lady Corliss Knows All

Loren

“She has great tits, an exceptional ass, and I curry your wrath at not only sharing that, but also that I’ve dreamed of it frequently since I first saw it. I have been moved repeatedly to write sonnets to the glory of her hair, but fortunately for the world of verse, I’ve not had the time to start one. The instant she sees you she races into your arms and sticks her tongue down your throat. She is sheer perfection. And she’s yours now, but in less than two months’ time, she will officially be that until the day one or the other of you croak. So allow me to express the depth of my confusion that you’re sitting here, looking like you wish to murder somebody.”

Loren tossed back the whisky he was rounding in his glass and did not speak after Marlow stopped.

Lamentably, this meant Marlow started again.

“And my further confusion as to why the fuck you’re not with her with your hand up her skirts.”

He shifted only his eyes to his friend.

“I’ll thank you to stop speaking about my future wife in that manner.”

“And I’ll thank you to stop acting like a brooding arsehole and tell me what’s the matter with you,” Marlow fired back. “You’ve been in Newton for five days. Racing to her townhome the moment you arrived in the city like Minerva herself was resurrected and chasing your heels. You spent what I hope was a pleasurable half an hour with her in a study. We lunched with her, her fetching mother, and her charming sister after that. Then you begged off an intimate dinner with her that evening to join Huxtable and Soucott in challenging some dishonorable gamesman whose magnets were making the dice jump in his favor, and the notes to jump out of Huxtable’s wallet.”

Loren scowled at his empty glass.

Marlow kept bleating.

“The next day, you had a picnic in the park, again in the company of her mother and sister, when the engagement has been officially announced. It’s reached every paper, likely in three countries. The king is coming to the wedding, for fuck’s sake. You are free to court her at liberty. You no longer need a chaperone. In fact, you can carry her to your townhome, take her to your bed, and not surface until your wedding, which, frankly, if I was in your shoes, is what I would be doing. But since that, I’m sure, highly enjoyable picnic, you’ve turned down her every invitation and haven’t seen her once. However, you have time to sit in this magical establishment with me when I know you. You’ve no intent to take a whore. Though you might very well wish word to reach your betrothed’s ears that you’re sitting here, so she’ll have reason to beg off of you.”

A woman in knickers, a bust-less corset, which meant her breasts were exposed, garters, stockings and heeled mules strolled by, her eyebrows lifting.

In return, Loren tipped his head to his empty glass.

She nodded and looked to Marlow.

He shook his head.

She moved to the bar.

“I’ve sent gifts,” Loren murmured.

“To the second wealthiest woman in the kingdom, behind Cora, the Gracious, our fucking queen?” Marlow scoffed.

Loren turned his attention again to his friend.

“Please do me the favor of fucking off.”

“I was on the cliffs’ edge, ready to jump, and you pulled me back.”

Loren clenched his teeth and again regarded his whisky glass.