I hope this chapter is worth all the teasing. I think it might be my favourite so far.

I figured HG and Charles would use more slang with one another than when in polite company.

Creative licence used with Wilde - I don't claim any knowledge of the real man.

Fantastic reviews, thank you all so much for keeping my spirits up, even if I am a blazing scoundrel, a sadist and a tease ;-) It's been a bit of a brain ache trying to pull all of this together but I think progress is being made!

Chapter Fourteen

Current company should have provided enough of a distraction for Myka to keep her gaze from drifting around the room. Oscar Wilde was trying to talk to her for crying out loud, what the hell was wrong with her? After fifteen minutes, she was still only catching half of what he was saying and he had begun to notice.

"My dear, you appear far too preoccupied for a discussion in which you professed to be interested," Wilde commented with a mixture of amusement and irritation. "Fair lady doth consume thy thoughts," he added in a whisper.

Myka blushed and focussed her full attention on the literary master. "I'm so sorry, Mr Wilde." She paused and tugged self-consciously at her sleeve. "I really do admire your work. Under normal circumstances..."

"Were Miss Wells not beckoning your attention from across the room with those doe eyes," he finished for her, seeming appeased at her flattery. "Please forgive me, but you appear to be in the family way and, though she vexes me with her persistent flirtations, Helena Wells is a dear friend and I should not like to see her struck by love's cruel counterparts."

Green eyes softened and the agent's gaze drifted over to her favourite vision once more. "The last thing I want to do is hurt her," she said sincerely before turning back to her companion. "But I think we're passed the point where avoiding that is possible. I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't."

He nodded, his brow rising in surprise at her insight and caught dark eyes zoning in on them once more. "I fear you are correct. Since hurt is unavoidable, you may as well elate in the journey lust and desire offer on a silver platter. Shall we join the Wells siblings and see if I can whisk young Charles away for a time? I do love to confuse that boy."

Without waiting for a reply from his companion, Oscar took her by the arm and walked her over to where brother and sister were standing together in a corner.

All the time that Myka spent not listening to Mr Wilde, Helena's attention had been on her, whether directly staring or from the corner of her eye, she couldn't keep her thoughts from drifting.

"Good God, H," Charles muttered in exasperation. "Have you taken leave of your senses? If you continue to stare at her, no one will be in any doubt as to your intentions. Tone it down, sister. Do you want someone to call the blues?"

"This crowd? In our own home? Don't be daft, Charles," she dismissed him.

"Scoff if you want but it was your clever thinking that brought more than one of your lovers here tonight. Phelps has noticed your distraction, though if I know that look, his thoughts are not unpleasant. Marietta on the other hand looks positively green." He turned back to his sister who didn't appear to be paying him a jot of attention. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, H."

This finally drew Helena's attention and she abandoned her staring temporarily to focus on her brother. "Richard and I have an understanding; he won't be a problem. Marietta thrives on her emotions, she says the experience gives her characters an edge. I'm doing her a service."

"As you say," he grumbled, unconvinced.

"You're such a fussbudget," HG huffed. "Stop your puckering and spit it out."

"Well, you can keep up all the podsnappery you care to, she may not have you." He watched her jaw clench and continued before she could interrupt him. "You can give me all the gum you like too and cause a shine. Mother's friends will bubble around about you and eventually everyone will know that you want to dab it up with a woman. A married woman," he added with a hiss.

Turning away from the room temporarily, Helena rolled her eyes. "Had I better retire to my room and practise my catechisms?" She sniped sarcastically.

Charles took a sip of his own drink. "I know what you want, HG but the world doesn't work that way. Now don't go getting your dander up but if you want to play about at being a man, you need to learn to be discrete."

For several seconds Helena was stuck between an urge to laugh and a sharp impulse to smack her brother around the head. Compromising, she sighed at his ignorance and returned to her task.

HG tensed when she saw her friend leading Myka over. Her breath caught in her throat and she took an over large mouthful of wine to calm her nerves. She felt her brother's eyes on her and heard his snort of amusement.

She is magnificent, the voice in her head declared loudly as she drank in the sight before her.

A week away from the American had done nothing to quell the intensity of her attraction and by the time she and McShane had successfully captured their curiosity, she had given up trying to control the yearnings.

All day, Helena had been in a quandary over what she should wear. Ordinarily, she preferred her trousers, shirt and waist-coat, but with the additional company, she eventually decided that a dress would draw less attention. Apparently, her behaviour was giving her away regardless so that she needn't have bothered with the extra caution, but in the end, the unmistakable appreciation in Myka's eyes made the choice worth any discomfort.

Helena still couldn't figure out exactly what the woman's intentions were but it seemed that there was little she could do except hope. Hope for a sign that would bring to reality her dreams. Dream for a moment that would make everything clear. Clear the way for love to take wing and fly.

Rather than ridicule and try to fight the notion of love, HG decided to embrace it. Ignoring the ominous portents of Byron on the subject, the inventor decided that she was nothing if not the adventurous, risk-taking sort. What other venture was greater, more hazardous than love?

She watched long fingered hands worrying one another agitatedly and brought her glass back to her lips. Somewhere, in the recesses of her brain, a sensible voice tried to tell her that too much alcohol wasn't her friend, but her eyes captured the white of teeth biting a lip and her brain dissolved into a puddle of grey mush.

Every part of her body pulsed, intensifying with Myka's proximity until they were standing side by side and it was all she could do to keep her hands to herself.

"Mr Wilde, Mrs Bering," Charles extended his hand to the gentleman, having missed his entrance earlier. "I do hope you're enjoying yourselves. Winter is almost upon us; I fancy this could be our last bash before we're in for the long sleep."

"You don't hold with icy gatherings?" Wilde asked over his glass of scotch, smirking slightly. "They can be quite cosy when one's invite list is carefully constructed."

"I... Of course," Charles stammered politely before turning to the tall brunette. He was too busy shaking off Wilde's penetrating stare to immediately notice the mesmerised expression on the American's face as she gazed at his sister. "Mrs Bering, are you enjoying your evening? Are you feeling much better?"

"Huh...?" Myka shook off the treacle feeling in her thoughts and quickly realised that she was expected to respond. "Oh, yes of course. You have a lot of interesting friends."

"None as interesting as Miss Wells," Oscar muttered in an aside to Charles.

Helena watched Myka's blush intensify and while she was relieved to know that she was being admired as much as she was doing the admiring, she glared at the writer. "I invited you here should I require aid, not so you could alienate my friends," she groused.

Oscar shrugged, looking thoroughly entertained while Charles and Myka continued to feel uncomfortable. "Would you like a glass of wine?" The elder sibling asked Myka, hoping to steer the conversation.

Glancing automatically at her stomach, the time traveller shook her head. "I'm not drinking, thank you. I'm happy with water."

"Come now," Charles laughed, seeing the earnest seriousness on her face. "One will do no harm, surely."

"No, thank you, Mr Wells. Doctor's orders," she lied, hoping to deter him with a smile.

Helena was ready to step in if her brother refused to take the hint but thankfully, Wilde chose that moment to free them from his company and any continued teasing.

"Come along, Wells," he threw an arm around the slighter man's shoulder and led him in the direction of the crystal decanters. "Let's leave the ladies to it and indulge my enjoyment of your liquor."

Myka smiled shyly, mildly embarrassed by Wilde's obvious intention to leave her alone with Helena. She reached a hand to the back of her neck and squeezed, her mind searching desperately for something to say. She felt the inventor's eyes on her and glanced up automatically.

"Are you certain that you are well, Myka?" HG's concerned tone floated across the space between them. "What occurred earlier..."

"It was nothing," the future agent looked at the floor, avoiding mahogany depths as she tried to downplay the incident. "Just a moment of dizziness."

Helena hesitated and then brightened as she took in the colour in Myka's cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes. "Very well," she smiled warmly. "However, I do recall you mentioning something about your aversion to standing all evening. Shall we?" She gestured to a small sofa and led the way.

Skirts billowed, fabrics mixing and moulding together, striking in the way the colours complemented one another. Knees brushed as the two women each sat at an angle.

Myka felt the relief in her feet and back and thanked her companion for the reprieve. She considered their position and posture on the couch and thought about the many evenings she'd spent with Helena in her arms or visa-versa.

"I hope Wilde didn't give you too hard a time," Helena began in a playful tone. "His manners can be quite circumspect when he feels you are not paying close enough attention to his brilliance. He once refused to speak to me for a month entire when I had the audacity to yawn during one of his monologues."

"He seems to like you a lot. Do you go to a lot of events like this together?" Myka wondered aloud, thinking about one of the inventor's earlier comments to the man.

Jumping to conclusions, HG appeared confused. Hadn't she made her intentions clear? How was this woman still able to confuse her? "We are much too alike to be of use to each other romantically, unless you include the service I offer in singing his praises to likely young men. It is gauche to speak of it but I feel I must ask; you are aware of the alternate proclivities of many of the people in attendance this evening, are you not?" She observed Myka with a frown, hoping that she hadn't been completely wrong. "I was led to believe that you were not unaccustomed to such..."

Myka watched Helena trail off uncomfortably and reached over to place a reassuring hand over hers. "I'm aware and I'm fine with it. Consensual affection between two adults is not something that should be restricted by law or society." She watched the inventor's posture change and realised where her hand was, still resting on Helena's knee, holding her fingers gently. Slowly, she moved back. "So, you're Oscar Wilde's wingman," she added beneath a nervous laugh, not thinking about her words and their meaning.

Still tingling from the contact, HG was slow to respond. "Wingman? That is a curious title."

"Oh," the American stammered, caught in feeling stupid from the verbal slip. "It's a saying from back home. It means..." She searched for a reasonable alternative to the actual origin. "Well, it's like when birds fly in formation I suppose and the one behind travels in the leader's slip-stream and has to expend less energy to fly. You give your friend help to make his task easier." She looked into dark eyes nervously, breathing an internal sign of relief as her companion seemed impressed by her explanation.

"You appear to know a great deal," Helena noted, feeling ever more drawn to the beautiful woman. She'd conveniently forgotten about impending marriages or the reality of motherhood. What did the future mean to her when Myka was here with her, now? "How did you come by your studies? Were you tutored at home?"

It felt strange letting Helena get to know her all over again and yet there was a part of her that was fully enjoying the experience. The voice, that in the aftermath of her mad attempt to end civilisation, had questioned a deeper meaning behind the Victorian's questions, once again felt confident in letting a little of herself escape.

"I grew up in a bookshop," she confessed and then, after a moment's hesitation added, "Bering and Sons." Something must have shown in her expression as she waited for the inevitable question because HG's next words were not at all what she was expecting.

"Let me guess; you're an only child?"

"Close," Myka chuckled. "One sister. Dad thought the 'and Sons' sounded classier."

Helena shook her head in disgust and eyed the brunette closely. Here was an incredible woman, intelligent, beautiful, compassionate and strong. By any standards, she should be the pride and joy of any father, yet too many men still considered the value of women to be below their own. It sickened her, and in regards to Myka, saddened her. "Has he met you?" She asked incredulously. The blush that appeared high on her companion's cheeks quickly improved her mood.

They continued to chat, alternating between animated and serious conversation, both forgetting the wider world as their bodies breeched the line between new acquaintance and treasured friend, hands touching sporadically to make a point or share a feeling.

Even without the wine, Myka felt the comforting proximity to her future fiancée relaxing and felt her inhibitions lowering. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she was aware of a voice that suggested that she was spending too much time staring into the Victorian's eyes and not enough time monitoring her own body language or the words falling from her mouth. Helena's presence was intoxicating and once or twice, she caught herself gazing at soft lips for a fraction too long.

God, she loved this woman. They were going to have three beautiful children, and when the twins were old enough to travel, they were going to fly to London, get married and rent a horse and trap to ride them through one of the parks. Though she wasn't sure if that was actually feasible, it made her happy to imagine it anyway.

It was precisely at this point that the future agent found her mind once more drifting to serious topics and made the mistake of voicing her concerns.

Eyes homing in on the raven-haired woman again, she noticed her refined posture again and was struck by the image of a waiting room and the awareness of hard, plastic chairs. A vision of a sonogram print-out posted on the fridge at home filled her mind.

"Helena, are you sure you should be drinking alcohol?" she heard her voice ask before she could think on the words.

HG frowned. Of all the things she'd imagined coming out of the American's mouth at this point, questioning her drinking habits was not one of them. "Are you opposed to a glass or two of wine?" She responded in confusion.

Knowing that she probably shouldn't have said anything to begin with but wanting an answer to the question of whether or not Helena was pregnant with Christina yet, Myka swallowed her doubts and marched figuratively on. "I like a drink. I just wondered if you were sure that there are no... extenuating circumstances that might mean you should... abstain for a while?"

Helena's frown deepened and she stared at the green-eyed woman for several seconds to judge whether she'd understood her correctly. "Are you implying that my circumstances might mirror your own?"

Myka ducked her head and had a quick look around. Anyone who was paying them any attention whatsoever was too far away to hear what they were saying. "Well... do they?"

"Certainly not," HG insisted rather sharply.

The American was taken aback, not only at the tone of utter horror in Helena's voice but the confusion she felt in being proven wrong. She was sure that the inventor had to be early in her pregnancy. Even if Christina had been premature, in all likelihood, Helena would be pregnant by now. Unless they forged the birth records and she just never got around to telling me, Myka reasoned doubtfully. Aloud, she had to ask once more, "You're sure, Helena? I wouldn't judge you."

"You are very queer," HG commented suspiciously. "Why do you sound as if you are disappointed? What do you know?" She added, her mind wrapping itself once more around the conundrum that was Myka Bering.

The heady air around them dissipated in just a few short minutes, leaving an awkward silence in its wake. Myka attempted to apologise, to brush the exchange aside and excuse it with the effects of fatigue, but the inventor's thoughts were twisting, questioning the sanity behind the idea of letting herself get close to this familiar stranger.

Several attempts were made to start a new topic but when one of Helena's friends begged her company, Myka noticed through the excuses that the inventor was relieved to go.

Heart sinking as she kicked herself for pushing the topic, Myka tried to breathe through the sudden stinging behind her eyes and decided that a glass of water and a walk around the room would keep her too occupied to dwell on the hurt that pulled inside her chest.

Very little could keep her from seeking Helena's figure as she moved, seemingly at ease around the room. When Charles eventually ushered his sister back to Myka's side, the American had taken up position as a wallflower between an antique clock and a bookcase.

"I hate to inflict her sullenness upon you, Mrs Bering, but my sister appears to be revelling rather too eagerly and I would hate to see her burn out before the night is over," Charles declared pompously as he gave the inventor one last poke in the back and left to find his own entertainment.

Helena looked at everything bar Myka for a drawn out moment before scoffing and laughing humourlessly. "Mrs Bering. Do you not despise that name? Does it not make you want to say to hell with marriage?"

Those bitterly spoken words made Myka realise that the Victorian was at least a little bit drunk. The relief she felt at being close to the Brit again eclipsed any concern she still harboured. "Bering is my maiden name," she reminded the Brit in a whisper. "It probably won't be my married name."

"Wells is a good name," Helena continued, shooting a sidelong glance at the brunette to gage her reaction.

Myka smiled despite herself and tried to hide it behind her glass. "Yes, it is," she conceded.

"Mrs Wells sounds too much like my mother though… Wells-Bering," she muttered in the kind of inebriated whisper that alcohol-fuelled people fancy as quiet.

"Bering-Wells," Myka responded automatically, before attempting to cover the utterance with a cough.

Whether Helena heard her or not was up for debate but what followed was a series of flirtatious remarks that left Myka in no doubt as to where the inventor's mind wanted to take them.

"Stop it," the future agent flushed at the last throwaway innuendo, feeling her heart race despite her determination not to let the Victorian get a rise out of her. She decided that it was time they stopped playing around. She wasn't sure about Helena, but she'd had more of this push and pull than she could take.

Feigning ignorance, HG smiled, her eyes penetrating. "Stop what, darling?"

"I'm not going to follow you to bed, Helena," Myka hissed from the corner of her mouth.

"My!" Delightedly shocked, the raven-haired inventor chuckled. "You are forward! Did I suggest such a thing?" Beneath her lashes she added, "That wouldn't be very lady-like of me now, would it?"

Green eyes rolled in their sockets, a sardonic looking pinning HG. "You don't have to say anything; I know what you're thinking."

"That says more about where your thoughts are than mine." Helena teased, still feeling mischievous. The development of the evening's events and the addition of the wine had made her bolder than usual. Forgetting all about consequences, she pushed on, whispering, "Besides, what I was going to suggest would not necessarily require a bed."

Myka blushed a deeper shade of pink. She almost wished that she didn't have the experience and the associated images to go with that suggestion.

"Admit it; you're intrigued."

Helena was grinning at her now. It was both arousing and insufferable. "You've got a high opinion of yourself, haven't you?"

Noting the tone of dismissal, HG felt her confidence wane. An abrupt wave of resentment accompanied it. This woman! "Should I shy away; hide my talents; take a husband and rot away in obscurity while I birth his children and keep his home? Am I not free to find my own pleasures?"

"This pleases you? Seducing your guests?" The ire behind Helena's voice touched a nerve in Myka and her eidetic memory chose that moment to remind her that she was in a house full of people who were potentially the Victorian's past, present or future lovers. Excluding Charles and Oscar.

"Tell me you're not interested, not even a smidge," Helena's ego insisted.

Myka looked squarely down at her feet again, mumbling, "I won't lie."

Her voice stamping its foot petulantly, HG asked, "Then why do you continue to resist? Why deny yourself companionship?"

"I believe in fidelity, Miss. Wells, and what you're offering is not the kind of companionship I'm interested in; it only goes skin deep." Sure that the Victorian couldn't possibly feel the depth of emotion that she and her fiancée had grown into over time, the American pushed aside her desire and put her foot down.

Feeling that rejection hit harder, Helena bit her tongue on the cusp of blurting out the recent realisation that she was head over heels in love with Myka. "I could make you feel things you've never felt before," she tried as a last ditch attempt.

Looking regretfully into dark eyes, the brunette stepped back and nodded. "I don't doubt it."

Myka sighed this time as Helena excused herself and wandered off dejectedly. She couldn't blame the inventor for being irritable. She knew that her behaviour said the exact opposite of her words but she couldn't seem to help herself either way. Like a magnet, something drew her closer to Helena and when they were apart, there was a chasm where her partner should be, yet she still couldn't allow these base desires to dictate her actions altogether. There was still a voice in the back of her mind that feared the collapse of everything she'd come to love if she let herself go.

Perhaps there was some way she could explain this to Helena without letting her know that she was from the future. There had to be something she could do. Something she could say to make the young inventor feel less conflicted.

For the first time in her life, Myka pushed off the wall and proceeded to search for the raven-haired woman without a fully formed plan in her head.

HG wandered swiftly through gathered friends and acquaintances, heading unseen to a sanctuary of some sort. Overwhelmed by her thoughts and feelings, she had difficultly focussing on where she was heading. She missed the door that opened on her right, didn't see the man standing in the aperture and only came to her senses when a hand reached out to drag her in.

"What the devil!?" She protested as she found herself in her brother's study. She spun around, ready to incapacitate whoever thought they could attack her. Upon seeing her abductor, she relaxed. "Oh it's you, Dicky. You're bloody lucky I didn't break your sodding arm just now," she warned him but there was a lack of fire in her tone that made her words fall short of their mark.

Richard looked over his friend and lover, taking in her emotional distress and the slight listing to her usually well-controlled posture and gait. "I could believe that if you were not so obviously squiffy, HG."

Glaring, Helena approached the journalist and poked an indignant finger into his chest. "You! All of you!" She waved a hand erratically in the air her eyes narrowing as her mind latched onto the first she could think to complain about. "You imagine yourselves so superior. We're all just play things to you aren't we? Convenient when you recall our presence. You'd be bloody lost without us!" She turned too quickly and had to grab his shoulder to steady herself.

Letting her lean on him, Mr Phelps guided Helena to a love-seat in the corner of the room. He had hoped for a few minutes with her away from prying eyes to discuss her intention to write and how they might find a publisher if she were willing to use Charles as the face for her works. The last time they'd met for business, they had not been as cautious as they should have and he soon found himself explaining his actions to a couple of Mrs Wells' bullies. He didn't want a repeat of that incident. It was only for Helena's sake that he hadn't immediately written about it for his paper.

Usually, he liked the feisty inventor like this, ranting and full of fire, but this time he detected something beneath her words; a genuine pain that gave his libido pause. "I do believe I've heard this tune before. Sing me a new one, HG. What's this all about?" To his horror, her dark, angry eyes filled with tears and she slowly looked away, dropping her face into both hands. "Bugger it, Helena. Is it that woman? What's her name? Mia?"

"Myka," came the inventor's muffled voice.

"Mya?"

"Myka!" Helena spat, taking her hands from her face. She searched fruitlessly for something to wipe her tears on. "May I have your billy?" She finally asked. He handed her his handkerchief and she turned to wipe away the evidence of her sorrows. "I apologise, Richard. I do not mean to take my mood out on you."

"I'm quite used to it," he reminded her, sparking a watery smile.

"You're used to being the target of my ire and... other things, not for me blubbering all over you," she quantified.

"So?" He began again. "Is it the woman? Has she spurned your advances and bruised your ego?"

"No. Yes... I don't know." She sighed deeply and confessed, "She confuses me."

Richard frowned. "You were in the cradle the last time someone confused you. Tell me it's not the dreaded 'L', Helena." He took one look at her slow, pained nod and pretended to recoil. "Bother. What on Earth are you to do? Should I even be this close to you? It could be catching. Ouch!"

She jabbed him sharply in the arm, bringing his teasing to an abrupt halt. "What am I to do?" She asked plaintively.

"I didn't think you would let yourself fall for a married woman, HG," he commented, rubbing the sore spot on his arm.

"She's not," HG mumbled.

"Not what?"

"Married," she finished. "Not yet." Helena watched a sceptical expression appear on her friend's face and stood up to begin pacing. "She claims to be engaged. Norrie and I helped her make up some cock and bull story about a husband who is my grandfather's business associate and is detained in France in order to smooth out relations in one of their factories but in reality, I've heard nothing about the man if indeed he even exists! I realise that I must sound like a lunatic. However, I am positive that she is hiding something."

Richard thought over her words and stood slowly. "Does it make a difference?"

"Yes, of course it sodding well makes a difference!" Helena argued. She took several steps across the room and back before her expression fell. "Does it not?"

He shrugged slightly, surprised that he'd managed to get her attention. "If she denies your advances, is the reason important?"

Raising an eyebrow, HG stared at her friend. "You are suggesting that in my position, I cannot win so I should cut my losses?"

"In a nut shell. Win some, lose some?" he added tentatively. Not being a great romantic himself, he couldn't quite empathise with her difficulties but he appreciated that she was not happy and needed his support. He moved closer and gathered her familiar figure into his arms. Hugs were not something they indulged in but this situation wasn't like their usual contact. "What do I know about it, Helena? If I were you though, I would not let her dance around with this any longer. You deserve to know where you stand."

HG laughed miserably into his chest and breathed slowly.

Fate, it seemed, had its own game to play, and just as the teary-eyed woman decided to look up and thank her friend for supporting her at this confusing time, the door opened and the American's head appeared around its edge, her eyes searching desperately.

When Myka's eyes found Helena, they zeroed in on what would have appeared to any outsider as a lovers' embrace. The couple's heads turned and the inventor felt her heart drop like a stone into her stomach.

"Myka?" she tried, but a curly-haired head was already whipping out of sight.