London's gossip mill is fast and efficient. Kurt understands this when the first visitor knocks on the front door early on Monday morning, merely twelve hours after Sebastian arrived at Minerva House. Kurt, who has been spared the duty of serving at the breakfast table to guard the front door, is barely able to open it and step aside before a man brushes past him. He is taller than Kurt, with an impressive beard shaved to the latest fashion. He takes off his coat and top hat with one swift motion and thrusts them at Kurt, together with a calling card.

"Lord Bromley. I'm here to see Lord Smythe," he says brusquely. His tone is not unfriendly, but authoritative, and Kurt finds himself momentarily at a loss for words. Thankfully, Nick uses this moment to materialise behind him.

"Certainly, Lord Bromley," Nick replies with a polite bow. "If you would be so kind and follow me."

He enters the dining room, an impatient Lord Bromley at his heels. Kurt opens a closet hidden behind a wooden panel to store Lord Bromley's coat and hat in. He realises that Nick has not closed the door behind him when Sebastian's voice, coloured by surprise, drifts through the hall, "Simon! To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of your company?"

"To the fact that you don't reply to urgent messages, my friend."

"I'm fairly certain haven't received one from you."

"I sent it to your country estate on Saturday."

"Ah, must have travelled ahead then. My apologies." Sebastian's tone is polite, but there is no true remorse to his words. There's a scraping of wood on marble and Kurt supposes that Lord Bromley has taken a seat. "Would you like some breakfast?" Sebastian offers.

"Thank you, but I fear this really cannot wait."

"Well then, I'm curious to hear what this urgent matter of business is about."

"Why, what else but George's proposal."

Sebastian's sigh is deep and heartfelt. "Politics before ten in the morning. Do you ever change, Simon?"

"Well, someone has to pay attention to what is happening in Parliament." There is a hint of barely concealed accusation in Lord Bromley's voice, a note that hardens when he adds, "I heard that you intend to support his endeavour, Sebastian. Is that true?"

"Of course I intend to support it, Simon. That can hardly be a question, can it?"

"Well," Lord Bromley replies, "I have come to ask you to withdraw your support."

There's a short moment of silence and then Sebastian laughs. His tone is full of disbelief when he says, "Are you serious about this?"

"Absolutely," Lord Bromley answers, his voice firm.

"Simon, you cannot mean this. George's proposal is perfectly sensible. The act merely proposes that we provide enough food and clothing for our servants so that they do not starve or freeze to death."

"That is correct."

"And still you want me to oppose it?"

"Yes."

"Explain."

"This is not about the content of his proposal, Sebastian. Of course I believe that we should treat our servants with respect and care, even without legislature demanding it. But George and his followers have gained much support over the last months. You know of his progressive views," he spits the word out like it leaves a horrid taste in his mouth, "and if we let him have this win, who knows what he will propose next?"

"So, you're afraid he'll come up with another sensible way to improve people's lives?"

"I am serious, Sebastian."

"So am I, Simon."

"Sebastian, if you consider…"

"Jane Wilbred." Sebastian's voice is like steel when it cuts through Lord Bromley's words. "Mary Parsons. One of these girls is dead, Simon, abused and murdered by her masters, and the other was a close call. George's proposal suggests the bare minimum of what the public is asking for, and, frankly, what is decent."

Kurt flinches. So far, he has only had a vague idea of what the conversation has been about, but he would recognise those two names everywhere. They had been in all the newspapers during Kurt's first months at Bailey Hall, spoken in shocked whispers in the servants' quarters and the kitchen. Two girls, young servants both of them, living in different counties, brutally abused or neglected by their employers. One of them died before anyone had noticed her peril, the other was rescued by attentive neighbours who saw her suffering just in time. The public outcry was harsh and loud and had recently re-emerged when the employers of Jane Wilbred were sentenced to merely two years of imprisonment. Kurt remembers how Mr Moore's face turned white when he announced the relatively mild sentence to the shocked household, how Jane's face became hard and cold every time she read about the case, and Kurt feels sick when he imagines that it could have just as easily been her, or him – or any of them.

"I'm not disputing that, Sebastian," Lord Bromley answers. "Of course his idea is decent enough. But you need to consider the bigger picture here."

"The bigger picture? Simon, do you even read the papers?" There's a brief rustling sound before Sebastian recites, "For this brutal and obscene tyranny the law of England has no other punishment than two years' compulsory seclusion within four walls. A mere pickpocket would fare worse at the bar of an English Criminal Court than those heartless monsters who have all but killed a helpless orphan child… So enormous a discrepancy between law and opinion is an evil which calls for the deliberate attention of the Legislature." There's another sound of rustling paper, barely audible over Sebastian's voice, which continues, "If the Morning Chronicle is that outraged you know that the public is out for blood, and rightfully so."

There's a long moment of silence.

"I'm not going to convince you, am I?" Lord Bromley sighs finally.

"Not with these arguments, no."

"Since you had never quite voiced your support for one side or the other, I had hoped to convince you to join us. But I see now that I might have been mistaken in believing our views could align. I don't believe I've ever heard you express your opinion quite so… bluntly before."

"I've been with the luxury of not having an opinion long enough."

Andy walks by Kurt, a tray with fruit on his arm, and briefly winks before he enters the room. He closes the door behind him, but Kurt doesn't have to wait for long before Lord Bromley emerges and asks for his coat.

Kurt is thankful for the experience weeks of waiting on men like Lord Huntington and Sir Reginald have provided, because he is able to mould his face into a mask of polite indifference, even though his blood is boiling with rage and helplessness. But to hear this man so casually suggesting to leave Kurt, Jane, Nick, Andy, Will, Maud, Beth, Toby… all of them at the mercy of their employers, for a game of political power that seems fleeting at best, when he could actually do something to protect them, makes it difficult to maintain his composure.

"Your Lordship," he says and offers him his hat. Lord Bromley takes it and adjusts his coat while Kurt opens the door and steps out of the way.

"Thank you, my boy" he says and he's looking at Kurt as if noticing him for the first time. A smile, brief and impersonal, darts over his face, and Kurt feels something cold pressed into his palm before Lord Bromley turns and walks outside. He looks at his hand and finds two shillings there, and he looks after Lord Bromley with the feeling of utter bewilderment – and anger.


Predictably, Jane is furious when Kurt later tells her about Lord Bromley's visit, and she is not the only one. Mere minutes after Lord Bromley has left Sebastian hurries up the stairs and down again a moment later, clad in a slate grey coat, a determined expression on his face.

"I need to make some visits," he says as he approaches Kurt, who hands him his hat.

"Should I get the carriage?" Kurt asks, feeling a little bit uncertain as to what Sebastian would expect from him in a situation like this.

"No, I'm just going to see George Manners," Sebastian says, "It's not far, I'll walk."

"Oh, alright," Kurt says, desperately thinking of whether there's something else he needs to take care of. "Will you stay out for long?"

"No, I don't think so," Sebastian replies. "I just need to set some things straight. I'll be back later, in case anyone calls."

Kurt raises an eyebrow at that, because suddenly, the connection between the name George Manners and the previous conversation begins to make sense.

"Are you going to declare your support for his Lordship's proposal?" Kurt asks. Sebastian looks at him, startled only for a second before he grins knowingly and rests his hand on Kurt's shoulder, "You listened. Why am I not surprised?"

"I overheard," Kurt corrects him. "I can hardly be blamed for an open door."

"No, of course not," Sebastian says, his tone teasing, "It would be truly far-fetched to expect you to close any doors in his household."

Kurt opens his mouth for a sarcastic reply when Sebastian turns his head to quickly scan the hall and then leans closer, his nose mere inches away from Kurt.

"Don't worry," he says and his voice has dropped down into a low murmur. The teasing tone hasn't vanished entirely, but his eyes hold nothing but warm honesty. "I don't mind. I promised no more secrets, didn't I?"

His gloveless hand is still resting on Kurt's shoulder, heavy and comforting, this thumb pressed against Kurt's neck, against the small sliver of skin between Kurt's collar and hairline. Kurt is painfully aware of the sensation, of the heat radiating from the point of skin-on-skin contact. He hasn't allowed himself to dwell on something like this for the past weeks, has avoided touching Sebastian and being touched by Sebastian as much as he could. But this brings back memories and feelings he has resolutely ignored until late – memories of how it feels to have Sebastian close to him, to –

"Just send one of the new footmen after me if any urgent matters turn up," Sebastian says. He smiles and Kurt hopes he remains unaware of where Kurt's thoughts have wandered off to. But Sebastian's thumb moves across Kurt's skin one last time when he pulls his hand away in a motion that feels too deliberate, and he winks before he turns around to walk out the door, leaving Kurt with a pounding heart and slowly warming cheeks.


People do call, on Monday and every other day for the rest of the week, and Kurt amasses an impressive collection of calling cards, which he hands on to Sebastian: some of which are answered, some of which are ignored. A number of people come to visit: several Lords and Sirs clad in dark coats and top hats with severe expressions, which Kurt always suspects to be members of Parliament, the Milton girls together with their mother, who have grown up quite a bit since Kurt last saw them and sport dresses cut to the latest London fashion, Lady Josephine and her brother, Count Jonathan, who want to know every detail about Sir Robert's health and where he has travelled to, and even the Huntingtons, who Kurt has not missed and is relieved to see leave again after merely half an hour.

Sebastian doesn't go out that often, Kurt discovers; rather, he likes to let people come to him. He is quite sociable during his first week in the city though and Kurt realises that for all the quiet time Sebastian enjoys at Bailey Hall, this is where he truly is in his element: chatting with people, exchanging compliments for witty remarks and vice versa, and his dry humour, intelligent retorts and often inappropriate honesty are met equally with both admiration and disapproval. Kurt listens to the giggles of the Milford girls in the hallway, to the dissatisfied murmurs of two Earls who have come to discuss a business matter, and the disappointment in Arthur Huntington's eyes when he asks for his coat, and Kurt wonders if there is a middle ground with Sebastian, or if it really only is possible to either love or despise him.

If there is a middle ground, Kurt has to admit to himself that he surely has never been able to find it.


The house falls into an established routine easily enough, and after a few days Bailey Hall already feels far away. Kurt wonders if there really ever was a time when he was unsure how to greet people at the door and how to arrange for their coats and carriages. Life is much busier here than in the countryside and while Kurt loves the whirlwind that is London, he can't help but feel confined by the walls of Minerva House. His body sighs with impatience whenever he passes a window that looks out to the park or the rooftops of the houses surrounding them, quivering with the desire to finally see the city for himself.

He doesn't have to wait for too long and yet, it feels like an eternity, not a week. On Sunday, most of the servants leave for the church service after lunch and Kurt, Jane and Nick, clad for the first time since their travels in their own clothes instead of their uniforms, walk with them. St. James is not far away and the service is nice enough, but Kurt doesn't listen to a word of it. Instead, he fiddles with his gloves and counts down the minutes.

"Stop it," Nick whispers and lays a firm hand on Kurt's knee to stop him from tapping his heel against the wooden bench. "We'll have enough time afterwards."

Kurt pouts but pulls himself together for the remainder of the service. He is among the first to leave the church though, stepping out into the April sunshine and taking a deep breath – though admittedly, London still doesn't smell like daisies and roses.

"We have until shortly after dinner," Jane says and takes his arm to avoid being carried off by the crowd leaving around them. "What would you like to see first, Kurt?"

"Everything," Kurt sighs and Jane laughs. "That we won't manage, but we can certainly give it a try."

She pulls Kurt down the stairs and along the street into the direction where most people head off to; Nick following behind when suddenly, Kurt stops.

"Wait," he says.

He has spotted two children hovering in a narrow doorway nearby, their feet bare, their hands stuffed into the large pockets of their shabby coats. He cannot tell whether they are boys or girls or even how old they really are, but they watch him with alert, attentive eyes as he crosses the street. He kneels in front of them and takes out the two shillings Lord Bromley gave him. Tips have become a frequent and welcome occurrence in Kurt's life. Lords and Ladies hand him a six-pence or a shilling every now and then and Kurt has stored all of them safely under a lose board in a corner of his room. But he can't bring himself to accept the money from Lord Bromley – not when Nick read out an article two days later about the opposition to the act proposed by Lord Manners in Parliament, not when he had clenched his fists in directionless anger and had seen Jane blink away silent, furious tears.

"Here," he says and offers the shillings on his flat palm. The children stare at him, distrustful, hesitating. Suddenly, faster than Kurt has any time to react, one of them reaches out and grabs the coins with one hand, while the other shoves at Kurt's chest. He loses his balance with a surprised yelp and before his backside has hit the dirty pavement the two children have turned around and fled, their quick footsteps echoing down the next alley while Kurt curses and rubs his behind.

"Lesson number one," Nick's dry voice sounds from above him. "Nothing good ever comes from being benevolent."

Kurt rolls his eyes, more annoyed by the lecture than by the reaction of the children. He gratefully takes the hand that Nick offers him though and lets himself be pulled up from the dirty cobblestones.

"That was the money I received from Lord Bromley," he says, dusting off his trousers. "I didn't want it."

"Oh Kurt," Jane says, not unkindly, and slaps some of the dirt from his leg with her gloves. "You have to learn to be less squeamish about these things."

"And by what I know about this city, you probably didn't help these children," Nick says. "If they take the money to their parents, there's a high chance they're just going to buy more gin for themselves."

"I don't know. They looked like smart ones," Jane replies. "If they are, they'll spend it on food and never tell their parents about it in the first place."

"Well, what's done is done," Kurt says and tries to forget the faces of the children, staring at him without any emotion. It makes him feel helpless and guilty in a way that he doesn't like. "But we have only a couple of hours left, so come on – show me London."

Jane and Nick exchange a meaningful look, but don't say anything. Instead, Jane takes his arm again and pulls him along, with Nick walking on his other side, and soon Kurt is thankful that Jane and Nick let him walk in the middle: this way, he can stare at everything without getting lost.

He's never seen houses this grand, our streets this wide, bristling with life. They walk past the Theatre Royal, which announces their upcoming production of Mind your Own Business by Mark Lemon, with glowing endorsements from Wilkie Collins and Charles Dickens plastered on top of the announcements. They turn left and soon come out on a giant square. "Trafalgar Square," Jane supplies readily, while Kurt looks at the large fountains and the enormous lions resting on the bottom of a tall column at the far end of the square.

Construction work seems to concern every third house they pass by, and they have to be careful to avoid pits and carts full of clay or stones next to the heaps of horse manure piling up in the gutter, and Kurt sees his earlier impression confirmed:

London is filthy.

Having grown up in the countryside, Kurt is no stranger to mud or dirt, but he expected London to be different: the sidewalks scrubbed, the white stones gleaming in the spring sunshine, like the illustrations in books. Some of the streets do nearly look like that, mostly the broader ones, where the big carriages drive with fancy passengers. The narrower streets and those that lead to the less respectable parts are much worse, but broad or narrow – every street is covered in an either thin or thick layer of mud and other things Kurt doesn't like to dwell on. Luckily, he doesn't have to, because he hardly ever has to look down, not when there are so many, too many things on eye-level to catch this attention.

London has more shops than Kurt could have ever imagined, and many times Jane and Nick have to pull him away from the windows when he stares at them for too long. Tobacco shops display their pipes and tins of tobacco, book stores clamour for people's attention with political leaflets, leather-bound copies of classical literature or the latest work by Mr Charles Dickens. They walk past Twinning's Teashop and Kurt takes a deep breath to smell the scent of herbs and spices: chamomile, peppermint, bergamot and many others which he can't name. What draws him in most are the dressmakers though, and he peaks in the shops through open doors and windows, seeing the richly coloured fabrics – brilliant emerald green, periwinkle blue, deep rose pink – being cut and pinned to create the latest fashion.

London is grand, London is dirty, London is noisy and Kurt loves every moment of being there. He loves the bright colours in the windows of the shops they pass by, he loves the loud voices and roaring laughter drifting out from the taverns. It's all a bit overwhelming, especially since he has trouble gaining any sense of orientation even though Jane and Nick tell him the names of the streets and from time to time point to a landmark, but he can't waste a second feeling intimidated – not when there is so much to see.

After a while that feels like an hour to Kurt, but might have not even been half of that, they come to a stop between a theatre and a grocer's shop.

"I'm going to briefly call on a friend of mine," Jane says. "She doesn't live far from here. I'll meet you back here in an hour?"

Nick scowls, "If you'd rather we walked you there…"

"How very considerate," Jane grins and pats his arm. "But unnecessary. Don't worry Nick, I'm a grown woman, I can handle myself." She adjusts her scarf, kisses Kurt on the cheek and hurries down the street.

"Well, come on then," Nick says and Kurt follows him into an alley hidden between two houses, all the way to a door above which a sign proudly proclaims "The Cyder Cellars".

"What is this?" Kurt asks, a bit hesitant when two men stumble out of the door, laughing and clearly inebriated.

"What you wanted to see," Nick says, grinning, but when he sees Kurt's hesitance he adds, "Trust me? If you don't like it we can just leave again."

There's a specific tone to Nick's voice, one that hints at the kindness and consideration Nick likes to hide behind a bristly exterior most of the times and Kurt huffs in mock annoyance, because they both know he would follow Nick everywhere. They walk down two flights of stairs until a narrow corridor opens into a large room, crowded with people. The air down here is so thick it could be cut with a knife, and the smell of tobacco and ale hangs low in the air.

"Welcome to the real London," Nick shouts over the ruckus and nudges Kurt over to the counter, where he orders two pints for them. Once they have their drinks in their hands Nick guides him over to a spot in a corner, where they actually manage to find two empty chairs.

"So, why are we here?" Kurt shouts before he takes his first sip of London ale. It's sweet and bitter on his tongue.

"I thought you wanted to see London," Nick says and waves his hand across the room in a sweeping motion. "This is it."

Kurt observes the crowd for a moment and he has to admit that Nick is right. Every kind of man seems to have gathered in the cellars: farmers and workers who sip their ale quietly or throw some dice, men in worn coats who might be writers or artists, scribbling furiously on pieces of paper, men in smart frocks and top hats, arguing over politics and philosophy, waving newspapers. The noise is deafening and Kurt enjoys it immensely. He drinks his ale and watches the crowd, occasionally pointing something or someone out to Nick, though any real conversation is made difficult by the clamour around them. The noise, however, suddenly dies down significantly when a large man climbs the small wooden stage at the far end of the room, much to the evident delight of the patrons.

"That's Ross," Nick says, "I wondered if he'd still be working here. He's been quite the success for the last years."

Another man, short and frail, sits down at the raggedy looking piano and starts a song. The sound of the badly tuned instrument makes Kurt flinch at first, but almost immediately the man on the stage starts to sing with a loud, booming voice and a thick, Scottish accent, "Oh! a dainty old chap is the lively flea, As he creepeth o'er young and old…" The crowd doesn't let him finish the first verse before other men join in, their voices forming a disharmonious but enthusiastic chorus over which Ross's booming voice can still be heard. Kurt has to admit that it's not precisely what he had in mind when he thought of London's famous entertainment, but he can't help but be amused. The crowd loves the singer: loud applause rewards him after every finished number and the crowd always asks for more, shouting song titles over each other. Ross makes a show about deciding which one to pick before he whispers something into the thin man's turns around to tell Nick he doesn't think Miss Julia would approve of the musical education he's receiving here, only to find that Nick is not paying attention to him. He is staring at something across the room; his eyes are narrowed, his gaze dark. His fingers grab his mug so tightly that his knuckles have turned white. Kurt turns around immediately and scans the crowd at the other side of the room, but he doesn't find anything noticeable or out of the ordinary. Everyone else has turned their attention to the stage, laughing and cheering when the next song begins.

"Nick?" Kurt asks. He has to raise his voice over the ruckus around them. "Is something the matter?"

Nick is still staring at something in the distance, but his features have relaxed somewhat. "No," he replies. "No, I just thought… no, it's nothing, Kurt."

Kurt looks at him for a moment longer, but when Nick too turns to look at Ross again, who now imitates being chased by an angry woman, he lets it slide. They listen to two more songs before the crowd beings to chant, this time unanimously, "Sam Hall, Sam Hall!"

"And that's our cue to leave," Nick says and stands up. Kurt is so surprised he knocks over his empty pint as he hurries after Nick and shouts, "Why?"

"Because Jane's probably waiting for us and because I know what this song does to people," Nick shouts back. Ross has begun to sing again, and this time, every man in Kurt vicinity joins in with vigour, "Oh my name it is Sam Hall, Samuel Hall…"

The crowd is much thicker now, straining to get closer to the stage, and Kurt actually grabs Nick's arm for fear of losing him in the crowd. They have made it through half of the room when Ross sings "…and I hate you fuckers all – damn your eyes!" and the crowd goes wild with cheers and curses.

Two men next to Kurt begin jostling each other, shouting obscenities. "Oh damn, here we go," Nick says and pulls at Kurt's arm just quickly enough to get him out of the way as one of the men draws his arm back and punches the other, only inches away from where Kurt's face was moments ago. The other men around them draw back to form a small circle around the two fighters, who are now rolling on the floor, and Kurt can see money exchange hands as Nick firmly pulls him through the crowd and up the stairs. The fresh air outside is a relief, and Kurt leans against the wall to catch his breath.

"What was that?" he asks weakly.

"Tavern brawl," Nick says and straightens his collar. "It happens every time they play that horrible song." He grins and nudges Kurt with his elbow. "You get used to telling when the best moment to leave is."

Kurt stares at the other man for a moment as they make their way down the alley and onto the main street again. He has never seen Nick like this: there's still a small smile playing around his lips, and his whole body seems much more… relaxed, at ease in a way that Kurt hasn't seen before.

Maybe, he thinks, Sebastian isn't the only one who belongs in this city.

"Well, as much fun as that certainly was," he says, his tone dripping with heavy sarcasm. "I believe we have a few more hours left. So what's next? Dog-fighting? Boxing?"

"Oh Kurt," Nick says. "You don't truly think I brought you here for just some ale and brawling, did you?" When Kurt raises his eyebrow in silent question, Nick grins, grabs his shoulders and turns him around to where letters above an entrance form the name "Adelphi".

"We," Nick says into his ear and Kurt can hear the satisfaction in his voice, "Are going to watch a play."


When they return to Minerva House, darkness has fallen over the city, but London is far from falling asleep. The streets are still crowded with people and carriages, leaving or heading to pubs and taverns, laughing, cursing, shouting, singing.

The quiet behind the iron fence surrounding Minerva House is like stepping into the cool water of a resting lake and Kurt momentarily feels like he's waking up from a fever dream. Mrs Abbot glances pointedly at the dark sky outside when Jane, Nick and Kurt stumble into the kitchen, but she smiles when she takes a long look at Kurt's excited face.

Andy and Will have already served an early dinner so Jane, Kurt and Nick hastily wolf down some leftovers before they hurry up to their rooms to change into their uniforms, their day far from over. Kurt is the first to return to the kitchen and Mrs Davies immediately hands him a large tray with tea and biscuits.

"His lordship is upstairs in his study," she says before she turns back to the dough she is kneading. This also has become part of their routine: if Sebastian doesn't go out, he retires to his study after dinner, to read or write his correspondence. Kurt climbs the stairs carefully, forcing himself to concentrate on holding the tray steady, but his mind continues to drift off – to the windows on the streets, the costumes of the actors, the music in the tavern.

He knocks on the door using his foot, pushes the door handle down with his elbow and enters the study quietly. Sebastian sits in an armchair by the fire, his legs stretched out and resting on the windowsill. He has a quill in his hand, some parchment on his knees and is busy scribbling what looks like a letter. He only looks up once Kurt sets down the tray.

"Oh, hello Kurt," he says. He blinks, once, twice, as if he has to return from where his thoughts have taken him, but suddenly he is looking at Kurt with a scrutinizing expression. "Did something happen?" he asks.

Kurt stares at him in surprise, his hand hangs frozen halfway to grabbing the teapot. "No, nothing. Why do you ask?"

Sebastian tries and fails to hide his amused smile behind his hand. "Because you're practically glowing, Kurt. I haven't seen you smile like this in a while. And you were humming when you came in."

Kurt's frowns at his blurry reflection in the window behind Sebastian, but he can't see any of that showing on his face.

"I just had a good day," he says.

"So it seems," Sebastian replies. His gaze darts to the door which Kurt knows he has closed behind him. Suddenly, he swings his legs down from the windowsill and sits up straight before he pats the chair next to his. "Tell me?"

Kurt hesitates briefly, his gaze now too darting to the door.

"They'll knock first," Sebastian reassures him and this is all the encouragement Kurt needs before he sits down and tells Sebastian everything: where they walked, what he's seen: the theatre, the shops, the pub – everything just spills out in an excited, jumbled account of his day.

How they have seen Jack in the Green because there weren't any tickets left for The School for Tigers, how they bought the last tickets for the gallery for one shilling each, how Kurt had sat there, looking down at the stage and drinking in everything – the lights, the musty smell of the curtains and seats, the laughter of the audience around him.

Halfway through his report Kurt catches himself in an uncomfortable moment of self-consciousness: how much of a true "country-boy" must he appear to Sebastian, who has strolled through the city a million times and to whom none of this is new or exciting. How naïve must he seem, how easily impressionable. But Sebastian isn't looking at him like he thinks that: he follows each of Kurt's anecdotes attentively, his gaze flicking back and forth between Kurt's face and the hands he's waving around for emphasis. He's grinning at the right moments and continues to interrupt Kurt to ask questions, just brief ones like "Wait, where did you say that was?" or "And you went in there because…?" They don't disturb Kurt's story, rather open up new paths for the tale to travel which Kurt gladly follows and he decides that he doesn't mind Sebastian knowing how overwhelmed and exhilarated he feels.

When he ends his account Sebastian is still smiling at him. "Sounds like you had quite the day," he says.

For a moment, Kurt feels a wave of gratitude swell up inside him. He's grateful to be here, with Nick and Jane, his good, reliable, amazing friends, and he is thankful that he has Sebastian, who has taken him here, where the world is so much bigger and moves so much faster. Sebastian, who protects and helps them whenever he can (not just in Parliament, Kurt thinks and remembers the time when Jane's father had fallen ill), who smiles at Kurt every morning through tired eyes like Kurt is someone worthy of getting out of bed for, who is everyday becoming more and more a person that Kurt knows he wants to fall in love with.

Kurt flinches when the large grandfather clock by the door chimes nine and he realises he has been in here for more than half an hour.

"Your tea is probably cold by now," Kurt says, almost apologetically, and when he touches the teapot he finds it indeed to be barely lukewarm. "I'll go and fetch something freshly brewed…"

Warm fingers catch his and draw them away from the porcelain. Kurt's skin tingles where Sebastian is touching him, his hand secure and warm around Kurt's.

"Thank you. For telling me," Sebastian says and Kurt doesn't know what to do with this, with Sebastian looking at him like this: honest, open, without pretence or sarcasm. Maybe Sebastian senses this because after a moment, the familiar teasing grin is back into place when he says, "I can't believe you almost got into a fistfight on your first night out on the town. You wouldn't have lasted two seconds."

"Oh please," Kurt replies and he's grateful because this is easy between them, like a well-known dance they've done so many times already. "Like you haven't been up to things much worse."

Sebastian nods solemnly, "True. I saw a man swallow a living fish whole once and I haven't been the same ever since."

Kurt stares at him in bewilderment and disgust and Sebastian throws his head back and laughs. "Relax Kurt. I promise there is enough poetry and Shakespeare in this city, you do not have to go see what I saw."

"I hope I won't," Kurt says and shudders. "I didn't see any Shakespeare though."

"Yet. They play it everywhere these days," Sebastian says. "You have to be careful though: sometimes they announce it as Shakespeare, but what you get is Romeo and Juliet with a balcony scene interrupted by farts."

"They wouldn't," Kurt gasps, his expression scandalized.

"This is London, Kurt. Trust me, they would and they have."

"But this is the most beautiful of all love scenes," Kurt huffs. "How would… in what world… why?"

Sebastian grins, "It is rather funny, actually."

"It's a tragedy!"

"Well, they still die at the end, most times, so..."

"That's not what I meant. These words mean something, they're proclaiming their undying love for each other and…"

Kurt can feel Sebastian look at him and he is not prepared for the expression on his face: the gentle smile, the way he's looking at Kurt like he is something precious.

"Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, / Who is already sick and pale with grief, / That that young man art far more fair than she," Sebastian says. Kurt would maybe find it in himself to be impressed by Sebastian's memory, were it not for the fact that what Sebastian has said makes his heart beat faster and he can feel the colour rising to his cheeks.

"That's not how the text goes exactly," he says, thankful that his voice sounds steady, if whisper soft.

"My mistake then," Sebastian says, his eyes never leaving Kurt's.

Kurt feels warm all over and he feels his heart beating fast in his chest, maybe a bit louder than it normally does. Suddenly he realises that his hand is still in Sebastian's, his fingers fitting between those of the other man like they belong there.

For a moment, he contemplates leaving them there, but there's a voice in the back of his head that whispers, "Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,'/ And I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st, / Thou mayst prove false."

It sounds a bit like Nick.

Not yet.

Gently, Kurt draws his hand back, letting his fingertips rest on Sebastian's knee for just the briefest moment before he stands up. "I need to go back down," he says, gently. "They'll wonder where I am."

There's a shadow of disappointment moving over Sebastian's face, just for a brief moment before he has composed a neutral expression once again. "Of course you do." He leans back and reaches for something on the windowsill and Kurt is thankful that he can do this, can take his time and think without Sebastian pushing or pressuring him. It makes him want to lean back, to reach for Sebastian's fingers once again – even though he knows deep down that he isn't ready for this.

Yet.

"Can you take these with you?" Sebastian hands Kurt a stack of letters, all scratched in his horribly messy handwriting. "It's too late now, but they should be posted tomorrow."

Kurt looks down at the envelopes, not even pretending not to read them. When he spots a familiar name, he turns the envelope around for Sebastian to see and raises his eyebrows in a silent question.

Sebastian smiles, "Well, I hope he'll be joining us soon."


Notes: (1) The newspaper article Sebastian reads was published like this, word for word, in the Morning Chronicle on 6 February 1851 and addresses the real-life case of Jane Wilbred and Mary Parsons. I copied it from "The Rise and Fall of the Victorian Servant" by Pamela Horn, which has been an invaluable source for this story (though, as you can see from the publication dates, I do take liberties with historical accuracy).
(2) The song lyrics for this particular version of "Sam Hall" I copied from "An Illustrated History of British Theatre and Performance, Vol. 2" by Robert Leach.
(3) The quotes in the last conversation between Kurt and Sebastian are of course taken from William Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet", Act II Scene II (aka: the balcony scene).
I will leave some notes regarding historical accuracy regarding the names and places mentioned in this chapter on my tumblr, in case you're interested.