June – July 1851
Immediately, four men step forward in varying degrees of alarm. "Your lordship, what…?" Nick begins, but Sebastian is already up on his feet.
"Nick, Kurt," he says. His voice is flat and he is still staring at the letter in his hands. "I need a moment in private with both of you."
Andy and Will exchange twin looks of confusion when Sebastian hurries out of the room, but Kurt can't spare them more than a glance and a shrug of his shoulders before he follows Sebastian into the parlour, his heartbeat quickening in growing worry.
"What is it?" he asks as soon as Nick has closed the door behind them. "What happened? Sebastian?"
Sebastian opens his mouth, but no words leave his lips as he stares down at the letter again and finally thrusts the paper at Nick and Kurt. Kurt all but rips it out of his hand and, with Nick leaning over his shoulder, reads:
Dear S.,
You may have already heard that I'm back in London after spending a few years on the continent. My travels were both enabled and encouraged by your late father, with a generosity which I assure you I will never forget. I'm sure you miss him dearly.
Regrettably, I have found myself in quite a predicament lately, which is why I see no other choice but to call upon your family's magnanimity once again. I'm sure you won't deny me, your old friend, this small favour – not after all the wonderful memories we share, which I so like to reminisce and talk about. I won't ask for anything more than I did last time, of course. Enclosed you find an address to where you can forward this small favour.
Yours always,
D.
Kurt feels like someone has pulled the rug out from under his feet, revealing an endless dark chasm, making him feel dizzy and sick as he stares down. This is worse than anything Nick had warned him about, worse than anything he could have anticipated. He stares at the words, black ink on yellow paper, each one of them a deliberate knife to Sebastian's heart.
"Oh Sebastian," he says tonelessly.
"I don't understand," Sebastian whispers, his face still ashen in shock. "How… I mean..." He trails off, looking at Kurt with helpless desperation in his eyes, and it breaks Kurt's heart to see the hurt in them, deep and fathomless.
Hurt that you could have spared him from.
"This is bad," Nick says and takes the letter out of Kurt's shaking hands. He too is pale, but out of the three of them, he sounds mostly composed. "He's going straight for the blackmail this time. He must be pretty desperate."
Kurt glances at the letter and reads, "'I won't ask for anything more than I did last time.' How much did he ask for last time?"
"10,000 pounds," Sebastian replies, his voice toneless.
"And how much money did your father pay him?" Kurt asks.
"I don't know," Sebastian answers. "More. I don't know how much more. But it couldn't have been less than 15,000."
Kurt's eyes widen. It's too large a sum for him to grasp, the number impressive and unreal, when he worries about sixpence and shillings. He cannot imagine possessing even a fraction of that kind of money, much less how to spend it in little more than five years. Because apparently, that's what Daniel somehow managed to do.
Nick's gaze is dark, his lips pressed against each other so tightly that they have turned a bloodless white. "I knew it. I knew this was going to happen. I bet that's the only reason he came back here, that scheming, conniving, wicked weasel. I bet he heard that your father passed away and that he didn't have to fear him any longer. Just the way he looked at me with that appraising– oh, I knew he was planning something."
At this, Sebastian's head snaps up. "Wait, what?" he asks. "The way he looked at you?"
Kurt closes his eyes, this time actually wishing for a hole in the ground to open up and swallow him. He knows they have no other choice but to admit to what they've both been keeping from Sebastian, but it is painful, painful knowing that no matter what they say now, it will hurt Sebastian.
"We ran into Daniel a few weeks ago," Kurt begins. He opens his eyes to see Sebastian stare at him, his eyes wide and unblinking. "On the street. Nick recognized him, I wouldn't have had any idea who he was. He asked about you, and Nick told him to mind his own business and stay away."
"We haven't seen him since," Nick adds. "I tried to keep my eyes open, in case he wanted to approach you, but…" He shrugs helplessly and glances at the letter. "I underestimated his audacity."
Sebastian's gaze darts back and forth between Kurt and Nick and his expression slowly turns into one of utter betrayal as their words sink in. "You met Daniel," he repeats, his tone full of disbelief. "And neither of you told me about it?"
"I hoped that we would leave for Bailey Hall before anything happened," Nick says, "Or that he would just disappear again, or be stabbed one night in an alley or fall into a canal and drown. I don't know." He takes a deep breath, "You've been so happy, Sebastian. So much better than you've been in years and I – I didn't want to destroy that."
Sebastian laughs, and the sound is harsh and unpleasant. "So you lied to me," he says and he no longer looks betrayed. He looks furious. "My best friend lied to me, for weeks." He turns to Kurt, who flinches when he sees the hurt and anger in Sebastian's expression. "And what is your excuse?" he snaps.
Kurt holds his gaze without blinking, even though his eyes are burning and there's a horrible pain somewhere in his chest that makes breathing difficult.
"We should have told you," he says. "And I'm so sorry that we didn't. It was the wrong thing to do."
Sebastian is still glaring at him like he's itching for a fight. "Why, Kurt? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I wanted to tell you," Kurt replies. "Today, actually." It sounds like a feeble excuse, even to his own ears, and Sebastian's hard gaze doesn't waver. "Why, Kurt?"
"Think about our history," Kurt explains. "Daniel has always, always stood between us in some way, and I… I was afraid. I was afraid of what would happen if I told you that he's back, when he stopped being just a memory and became reality again. I just wanted you to myself." His throat feels dry. "I know it's selfish. And I know it was wrong and I hate that I hurt you. But after everything that happened in January, do you really don't understand why I didn't tell you?"
Sebastian already starts to form a reply, but then his gaze meets Kurt's. Kurt doesn't know what Sebastian sees in his face, only knows that he can no longer stop the tears from spilling over and running down his cheeks – one left, one right.
For a moment, Sebastian remains frozen. Then he spins around and curses, loud and obscene, and kicks against the curtains, which flare out and settle back unharmed, only releasing millions of dusty particles into the air, dancing in the rays of light filtering through the window. Sebastian spins around aimlessly for a second, his breathing shallow. Then he turns and strides towards the door.
Kurt panics.
"Sebastian Edward Smythe," he hisses. He is careful to keep his voice low, so no one can hear how close it is to breaking. "I swear, if you leave right now –"
"I'm not leaving," Sebastian hisses back. He's turned around again, still glaring at Kurt, his expression a turmoil of different emotions, impossible to decipher. "I'm angry because you kept that from me, and I hate that I ever gave you a reason for doing so, and I hate that Nick is always right about fucking everything, and I hate Daniel and I don't know what to do and I'm going up to my room to yell into my mattress before I say something to either of you that I'll regret later."
He spins around on his heels and marches out of the door, slamming it shut with a bang that echoes through the whole house.
"Well," Nick says after a long moment. "At least there are no more secrets between any of us now."
Kurt turns towards him, because as much as he wants to storm out after Sebastian – to do what he doesn't know: to yell, to fight, to beg, to kiss, to somehow fix this – this is more important right now. Nick is very good at keeping himself together, but for the first time, Kurt can see through the cracks of his calm demeanour easily: his fingers are shaking, his breathing is laboured and his eyes are shining with barely repressed emotion.
"I'm sorry," Kurt blurts out. "That's what I wanted to tell you all morning, before that awful letter came. I'm sorry for what I said, I'm sorry we didn't tell you about the opera, I'm sorry I hurt you." He draws in a shaky breath, "I was angry, but not at you, and I took it out on you, and that wasn't right."
There is a long moment of silence, before Nick says, "That night… you said some things that were…"
"… mean and unfair," Kurt concludes. "I know."
Nick's smile is sad. "What I wanted to say was: you said some things that were true."
When Kurt opens his mouth to protest, Nick silences him by shaking his head. "I don't have the right to make these decisions, neither for you nor for Sebastian. I know I judge you based on what I think is right for you, and the reason for that is that I spent my whole life worrying about Sebastian, and I don't think I'll ever be able to stop completely. But you were right. This is your decision to make, and if you think the risk is worth it, then I have to stop nagging you about it."
He hesitates before he continues, "I wrote to Jeff, yesterday. I apologised for my silence. I told him I had to take care of a few things and that I hope he forgives me. I hope he writes back." He takes a deep breath, "I accept your apology, and I promise I won't meddle in your relationship again."
"Please don't promise that," Kurt says. "Nick, I didn't mean…"
"You didn't?" Nick cuts him off, his voice full of doubt. "You did not mean what you said?" His smile is bitter. "I think we both know you better than that, Kurt."
"Fine, I did mean what I said," Kurt admits, "But there are so many things I didn't say, and they are far more important, which is why I need to say them now." He reaches out and takes Nick's hand in his, feeling the calluses on Nick's fingertips, the rough texture of his skin. "You're my best friend. You're my family, a family I found when I thought I had lost mine for good. Your advice and opinion matter more to me than anyone else's. And what I want for you, more than anything else, is happiness, which is why I'm so sad when you won't allow yourself a chance to go and find it. But I have to take my own advice here: you decide what makes you happy Nick. Not me. It's your decision and I don't get to judge you for it." He squeezes Nick's hand. "But you have to know that every day I am grateful that I have someone in my life who cares enough to worry about me, even if there is something we don't agree on, even if I do something reckless. Especially when I do something reckless." He stares into Nick's dark eyes and his tone is pleading when he adds, "Please never, ever stop doing that."
Nick's eyes glitter with unnamed emotion. When he slips his hands out of Kurt's, Kurt feels his stomach plummet at the rejection – but then Nick reaches out and throws an arm around Kurt's shoulder, roughly tugging the other man towards him. Kurt stumbles a little, his arms coming up around Nick's back, and then they're squeezing each other tightly, Kurt's face burrowed into the fabric of Nick's jacket and Nick's temple pressed against Kurt's.
"I didn't want to hurt you," Kurt mumbles, though he knows that doesn't mean much. The words come out muffled against Nick's shoulder, so he lifts his head and repeats them. Nick lets go of Kurt slowly, his hand still on Kurt's shoulder as he steps back. "I know you didn't," he says. He takes a deep breath, "We'll be fine Kurt. I promise. Maybe not immediately, but…" He trails off and Kurt nods.
"And besides," Nick adds, and his expression grows dark when his gaze darts down to the letter he is still holding in his hand, "It looks like we now have bigger problems to worry about."
The sun is slowly setting in the sky, still bright enough to illuminate the three men sitting around a table in the library. After excusing himself from accompanying his grandmother and Sir Robert to yet another dinner invitation – claiming stomach pains as the reason and enduring his grandmother's displeased lecture with barely concealed impatience – Sebastian has called Kurt and Nick to the library after he sent Andy and Will on a late-night errand.
Sebastian's expression is troubled, his brow furrowed as he stares at table upon which Daniel's letter rests, yellowed paper against dark mahogany, looking perfectly innocent. Ever since they entered the room, Sebastian has refused to meet Kurt's and Nick's gazes. Kurt's fingers drum on the table without any rhythm, the soft thuds of his fingertips against the polished wood strangely loud in the silence of the room. Neither he nor Nick have spoken to Sebastian over the rest of the day, and when the atmosphere begins to grow oppressive, Kurt decides that he has to be the first one to break the quiet.
"I'm sorry, Sebastian," he begins. He's apologising a lot today – and not without reason. Sebastian's gaze darts up immediately, meeting Kurt's as if he'd only waited for someone to speak up. "We should have told you."
"We should have," Nick agrees. "We were wrong in keeping this from you. I apologise too."
Sebastian's gaze flits to Nick and then back to Kurt before he nods, slowly. "Alright," he says, and Kurt hates to hear how hoarse Sebastian's voice sounds, hates his crestfallen expression that doesn't lift in the slightest. "I hate that you lied to me. But… I also hate that I somehow understand why. And I'd like to just forget it ever happened and move past it, but I… I'm just not there yet?" He hesitates. "I want to forgive you, but… I might need some time, I think." There is a new kind of uncertainty in his eyes when he looks at Kurt again. "Is that alright?" he asks, and Kurt feels his heart breaking. He hates to see Sebastian like this, hates that he is the reason for the additional weight on the young earl's shoulders, hates that even though Sebastian is hurting badly, he is still trying, still talking to Kurt, still doing his best to be open about his feelings in a way he has never been before. Kurt swears to himself that he won't let anyone hurt Sebastian like this ever again – not himself, not any vindictive ex-lovers.
"Of course," he says, clearing his throat when his voice breaks mid-sentence and tries for a brave smile, which is hesitantly returned by Sebastian. And Kurt knows he can ask for nothing more: if time is what Sebastian and Nick need, he is more than happy that forgiveness comes at such low a cost.
"Which means that we should probably return to the most pressing matter at hand for now," Nick remarks, which makes all three men turn to stare at the letter again.
"What are our options here?" Kurt asks, determined to approach this with calm reason rather than the outrage or the misery he truly feels. He doesn't miss how Sebastian's lips twitch upwards when Kurt says "our", and a small spark of hope flickers alight inside of him.
"Well, we could just give him what he wants," Sebastian says glumly.
Kurt looks from Nick to Sebastian, at their dark expressions. "Surely you can't consider just giving him that absurd sum of money?" he inquires.
Sebastian looks deeply unhappy, but he replies, "It wouldn't be easy. There is no way my grandmother won't notice a sum that large disappearing, especially now that she monitors the costs for the ball so closely. But maybe I can make up a story about someone demanding satisfaction or a lost bet." He laughs deprecatingly. "It wouldn't be the first time she's disappointed in me."
"There has to be another way," Kurt insists, because the thought of Daniel just getting what he wants makes his blood simmer with rage.
"There wasn't one last time either," Nick reminds him gently. He looks at Sebastian. "Though I imagine payment most likely wasn't all your father offered Daniel. Do you think he threatened him?"
"I'm certain he did," Sebastian says glumly. "Though of course I could hardly ask him about it."
That doesn't sit right with Kurt either. Not that he particularly minds the thought of an intimidated Daniel, but their options seem so utterly… powerless.
"Is that all we have at our disposal?" he asks.
"We can ignore him," Nick replies. "We can pretend that we didn't receive his letter, and wait for what he does next. He wants something, after all – he won't cause a scene just to get back at Sebastian, not if it means losing his bargaining chip in this. Or we pay, and hope that makes him shut up for good. I doubt it though – if we're lucky, it's going to buy us five more years in solitude before he comes crawling back again. Or – and this is the last and most unpleasant option – we threaten him. With violence, if necessary."
There's a long silence as they mull this over.
"Is there any weak point we could use against him?" Kurt finally asks.
Sebastian looks up. "What do you have in mind?" he inquires, and Kurt explains, "Something that we can use to… not threaten him, but maybe blackmail him back? A dark secret he doesn't want to be known, or…"
Sebastian laughs without humour, "I'm his dark secret Kurt – a secret that holds zero weight in the grand scheme of things."
Kurt looks at Nick for support and is surprised to see Nick staring at the letter in silent contemplation. "Nick?" he asks.
"I like Kurt's idea," Nick says very slowly. "I'm not certain if it's doable, but… I could ask Jerry about it. He mentioned something about Daniel's debts. Maybe this is something we can use against him."
Sebastian blinks. "Jerry?"
"My friend from the harbour," Nick retorts, and Kurt notices with astonishment that Nick avoids Sebastian's gaze. "I told you about him before."
"I don't remember," Sebastian says. "But it sounds like you've talked to him about Daniel before. Is he trustworthy though?"
"Yes," Nick and Kurt reply simultaneously. Sebastian looks at them, both eyebrows raised high. "Well, if you're certain… it wouldn't hurt, I suppose." He reaches out and pulls the letter towards him. "But what if we don't find anything that gives us leverage against Daniel?"
"I say we start by buying ourselves some time first," Nick says. "I mean, what is the worst that could happen if you stall or say you can't get the money right away?"
Sebastian snorts. "I can think of a few things."
"He's a gambler, he won't let go of any of the cards he holds unless he gets what he wants," Nick says. "Exposing you also means he won't see any money from you, ever. That is not in his interest."
Sebastian's smile is faint. "You know how much he liked to play games he was sure to win. I doubt he'll take it well if I were to refuse him."
"I think it's high time that you start refusing him," Kurt scoffs. The moment the sentence leaves his mouth he regrets it, because Sebastian's lips immediately pull into an amused grin. If he heard the jealousy in Kurt's voice, he doesn't comment on it, and his smile vanishes quickly when he asks, "So is this what we are doing? I try to buy us some time and you talk to this Jerry?"
Kurt and Nick nod. "You should tell Sir Robert about this," Kurt adds. "He might have an idea of what to do, and in any case he should know about this." Nick nods in agreement, but Sebastian just kneads his bottom lip in contemplation.
"I'd rather not," he finally says, his tone hesitant.
"Why?" Nick asks, surprise colouring his voice. "He would want to know."
Sebastian nods slowly, "He would. But… I'm not sure whether I should burden him with something like this, given his condition."
"His condition – but, he's fine, isn't he?" Kurt asks, alarm and puzzlement mixing in his voice. "He has improved much since last winter, he barely has coughing fits anymore…" He trails off when he sees Sebastian's expression.
"Lady Milton spoke to me yesterday," he says quietly. "She asked if I had heard that Robert fainted three days ago, at dinner with the Lovelaces. He didn't tell me, of course he didn't, the stubborn idiot. But Lady Lovelace told Lady Milton and she thought it best to inform me."
"Oh," Kurt murmurs and then falls silent because he can't think of anything else to say. A new and unexpected feeling of dread settles in his stomach.
"You should still tell him," Nick says, his tone gentle. "Kurt is right, he would want to know."
Sebastian contemplates this before he relents, "I'll talk to him and ask him about this episode at the Lovelaces. Depending on what his explanation, I can still decide whether I want to tell him about this or not."
Kurt and Nick nod, and Kurt can't help but recall every time he has seen Sir Robert over the last days, the last weeks. He thinks about his cheery countenance, his patient company. He catalogues every time he has seen the other man cough or sneeze or reach for his tissue. He had believed that Sir Robert was better, much better, actually – but he has to admit that with his changed set of duties, he also hasn't spoken to him in private for some time, and, if he's being completely honest with himself, he hasn't truly paid much attention to the kind man over the past weeks. And as worried as he feels – when he looks up and sees Sebastian's anxious expression, he has to remind himself that Sebastian has asked them to give him time, and only barely stops himself from reaching out to offer comfort.
The three men sit around the table for a long while, each of them silent and lost to their own thoughts, between them a distance that Kurt had hoped they breached for forever. And yet – he holds on to the thought that having bridged it before, it can only become easier to bridge it again.
He returns to his old duties over the next days, spending three to five times in Sebastian's chambers daily, helping him dress and undress. The atmosphere between them feels weirdly unstable. Sometimes one of them reaches out for the other in a way that has just recently begun to feel familiar, only to snatch his hand away when he remembers that they just fought, leaving both of them awkwardly avoiding to meet the other's gaze. Other times things feel effortless: they joke and laugh just like before, and smile at each other with warmth until remembrance hits them. It might just be wishful thinking on his part, but as the week progresses, Kurt believes that the awkward phases are starting to become shorter and fewer in between. And when one morning Sebastian leans forward and brushes a strand of Kurt's hair back tenderly, his movement stilling when he realises what he's doing, but his smile never wavering, Kurt allows himself to stare after the other man as he goes down to breakfast, his heart hammering in his chest with hope.
He knows Sebastian puts off talking to Sir Robert, both because he asks him and because he can see the scrutinising way Sebastian sometimes stares at the other man – which is something Kurt recognises, because he himself has been doing it a lot lately.
When he brings some tea and biscuits to the library on Saturday, only a few days after the arrival of Daniel's letter, he is surprised to find Sir Robert alone, sitting in an armchair and smiling invitingly at Kurt.
He sets down the tray and while he pours the tea he looks at Sir Robert, scanning his body for any sign of illness or weakness. He finds none – Sir Robert's cheeks are rosy, his breathing normal. His hands aren't shaking when he takes the cup from Kurt's hands.
Kurt doesn't know if he's been staring at Sir Robert for too long or if there was something in his expression that alerted the other man, but suddenly, Sir Robert meets his gaze and sighs. "Sebastian has told you what happened that evening at Ada's place, hasn't he?"
Kurt promptly looks away, a flush rising to his cheeks. "I don't know what you…" His gaze darts back and meets Sir Robert's amused smile, and he falters. "Yes, he has."
Sir Robert nods. "Of course he has. I have no doubt that he shares most things with you, these days." He smiles, a gentle smile which makes Kurt feel even more embarrassed than before.
"I don't…" he begins again, but Sir Robert waves his hand dismissively.
"I have no interest in prying into things that frankly only concern you and Sebastian," he says gently, and lifts his tea to his lips. "I think you're good for him," he continues once he lowers the cup again. "I have thought that for a long time." He chuckles. "I still remember how Sebastian was in London last year around this time, after you made your unfavourable opinion of him known. Inconsolable, that's what he was."
These days are but a distant memory to Kurt, the hurt and disappointment of last summer overshadowed by the multitude of things that happened since.
Overshadowed, but not forgotten, so Kurt is both surprised and touched when Sir Robert adds, "I hope he's good for you too."
Despite his reassurance of not wanting to pry, there is a question in the other man's eyes, a question Kurt considers for a moment before he replies, his voice firm, "He is. He is so much more than I ever could have wished for."
Sir Robert smiles at that, bright and happy. It is strange, in a way, to receive Sir Robert's blessing, while the subject of their discussion remains decidedly unspoken. But as moved as Kurt is to hear that Sir Robert approves of him and Sebastian – he hasn't forgotten about the initial topic of their conversation. "But you wanted to tell me about your condition, Sir?"
Sir Robert sighs, but the smile on his lips only deepens, revealing a dimple in his left cheek and making him appear much younger than he is. "And here is another quality you and Sebastian share – your obstinacy." He nods to the chair opposite of his. "Sit, Kurt."
Kurt stares at him in surprise, an oppressive sense of foreboding weighing down on him.
Nothing good ever comes of people telling him to sit down.
Sir Robert merely rolls his eyes at Kurt's hesitance. "Please," he adds, and this single word is enough to make Kurt's knees give in as he sinks down on the edge of the armchair.
"I have talked to Sebastian about this earlier today, I suppose he hasn't yet had a chance to relay our conversation you," he says, and Kurt doesn't contradict him, doesn't mention that sometimes Sebastian still needs time for himself, that every conversation with Sebastian feels like a careful renegotiation of trust and boundaries.
Sir Robert clears his throat. "Despite the myriad of visits I have paid to multiple doctors within the past months, none have agreed on a diagnosis. They all agree that there is indeed something wrong with my lungs, but they disagree about the precise nature of the illness. They have performed every test invented, but none have yielded solid results. There is much in life that apparently, science doesn't have an answer to yet," Sir Robert says with a wry smile. "We truly live in interesting time."
Kurt doesn't want to live in interesting times. He wants answers.
"But what do they suspect to be wrong?" he presses. "They don't… I mean it isn't…" He pauses, hesitant to voice the dreaded word that has doomed so many people, but Sir Robert seems to decipher it anyway.
"Consumption?" he asks and shrugs in a way that is far too nonchalant to Kurt's liking. "A doctor in Edinburgh was convinced that's what it is. Another in London disagreed with him wholeheartedly, as did another specialist in Vienna." He sighs. "I have a colourful assortment of diagnoses to choose from. They all agree on one thing: that something is wrong and that it is getting worse."
Kurt hesitates for a small moment, debating whether he actually wants to hear the answer to this question, but then decides to ask, fearing the worst and hoping for the best, "Getting worse how, Sir?"
Sir Robert puts down his cup, the china clinking softly. "Well, the doctor I went to see in January was positive I wouldn't make it until April," he says cheerfully while Kurt stares at him in horror. "The most optimistic diagnosis I received was from the doctor in Vienna, who told me that if I avoided the city air and kept to a Mediterranean climate, there was no reason why I shouldn't live at least to the ripe old age of sixty." He chuckles while Kurt doesn't know how to feel about that.
"He was right though," Sir Robert continues, "I felt much better when I was travelling Korfu or staying in Venice. I do feel like my health has deteriorated significantly over the last weeks. Some days I feel like I can't breathe at all when I leave the house."
"But shouldn't you leave immediately then, Sir?" Kurt asks alarmed. "Who cares about the ball – I mean, pardon me, but surely it is not worth to sacrifice your health to avoid the displeasure of her ladyship?"
"Certainly not," Sir Robert agrees and he smiles. "Sebastian said the exact same thing to me by the way, even though he used, ah, slightly more colourful language. But rest assured, if it were just for the ball I would not be staying. I have, however, a few more pressing appointments with some London lawyers that I cannot postpone. Hence, I will remain here for two more days after her ladyship's spectacle before I depart to Cumbria."
"Not to Italy?"
"Not yet. I have some unfinished business to take care of at home, but I plan to spend the majority of autumn and all of winter abroad."
Kurt looks at the other man, trying to see something behind his easy smile, before he asks, "You seem… oddly at peace with this, Sir."
"I am now," Sir Robert says. "Make no mistake – had we seen each other in January or February, you would have met quite a desperate man, Kurt, eager to hear every doctor's opinion in our kingdom and on the continent until he found one that satisfied him. But I have since grown accustomed to the uncertainty. The truth is, despite all significant progress we've made in the medical field, we still cannot predict the future. Maybe I'll succumb to this tomorrow. Maybe I live another twenty, thirty years." There's a wistful smile playing on his lips when he adds, "The only thing we can control what we do with the time God has granted us on this beautiful earth."
Suddenly, Kurt feels tears burning in his eyes, but he resolutely blinks them away. "Thank you for telling me all this, Sir," he says, his voice quiet.
Sir Robert chuckles again. "What can I say? With everything that happened over the last year, I do consider you part of the family – whatever a strange family it might be."
Before Kurt has an opportunity to become truly embarrassed by Sir Robert's kind words, a bell rings in a faraway corridor, and Kurt jumps to his feet while Sir Robert rises slowly. "I see dinner will be ready shortly," he says. "Go on Kurt, I'm sure you have a lot to do, even with Sebastian dining out tonight."
Kurt nods and hurries to the door. Before he leaves he pauses, his hand on the doorframe as he turns around one last time.
"Sir?"
"Kurt?"
"How did Sebastian take the news, Sir?"
Sir Robert holds Kurt's gaze for a long moment.
"Maybe you should ask him about that yourself," he finally replies.
Kurt takes a deep sip out of his mug. He lets the liquid swirl around his tongue for a long moment before he swallows, his expression contemplative.
"What's the verdict?"
He lets the taste develop for another second, feels the burn of it running down his throat, then shakes his head. "No. Your ale is definitely the superior one."
Jerry laughs delightedly and claps him on the shoulder, causing Kurt, who has no resistance against Jerry's tender strength, to almost topple his mug.
"If you can taste that, we have indeed made a city boy out of you, lad," Jerry says and raises his mug to clink against Kurt's, while Nick watches them from across the table, hiding a fond smile behind his own beer.
They're in the Cyder Cellars this time, their tiny, three-legged table tugged away in the far corner of the room, the ruckus around them both a welcomed distraction and shielding them from anyone overhearing their conversation. Paradoxically enough, the rowdy laughter and crude songs echoing around them are the best assurance of privacy they could hope to find in any public setting.
"Not that I'm complaining about being treated to some second-rate beer," Jerry says, his voice just carrying over the noise around them enough to be heard by Kurt and Nick. "But as much I'd like to think you asked me here because you missed my company…" he winks at Nick, who quickly averts his gaze, "… I do think there might be another reason to why you wanted to spend your free afternoon with me."
"Well, I do value your company," Nick says, still not meeting Jerry's gaze. There's a soft flush to his cheeks that can be blamed on the oppressive heat around them but that still holds Kurt's attention for a moment. Nick's smile is serious around the edges though. "But you're right. The main reason is that I didn't trust paper to carry the words I'm about to say."
Jerry looks intrigued at that and shuffles closer, and over the next minutes, Nick and Kurt tell him exactly was has happened at Minerva House over the past week.
"Damn that bastard," Jerry says as he leans back in his seat and takes a long sip of his beer. "I should've known there was trouble brewing when you asked about him last time." He looks at Nick, his expression earnestly concerned. "What does your employer say about this?"
"He is…" Nick hesitates, "He is better than I'd hoped he'd be. Rather composed about the whole thing." At least in front of everyone, Kurt thinks. "But this is opening some old wounds, and he is hurting. Badly, even though he does his best to put on a brave face."
Kurt tries hard not to think how he hasn't actually seen Sebastian since yesterday. After his talk with Sir Robert, he tried to wait up for Sebastian, but whether due to the heat or the strain of everything that happened over the last days, he fell asleep before Sebastian came home. It must have been a late evening for Sebastian in any case, because he was still dead to the world and snoring on his bed when Kurt checked on him one last time before marching off to church with Jane and Nick around noon.
Jerry tilts his head. "Understandable. Well, normally my sympathies don't lie with those who eat from silver plates, but I'll make an exception in this case." He winks in an attempt at levity, which is met with a small smile from Nick. "What can I do to help?"
"Do you know anything about Daniel that we could potentially use against him?" Kurt asks. "Anything that would give us some leverage?"
"Double blackmail," Jerry nods in understanding. "Smart move, lad."
"You mentioned something about his gambling debts the last time we met," Nick supplies. "Could that potentially be something to get him off our backs?"
Jerry strokes his chin slowly, his fingers rasping against the faint stubble on his cheeks. "Let me think," he says and stares into his mug, his brows furrowed in contemplation.
Kurt sighs and lets his gaze flit around the room, carefully making sure no one is listening to them. There are three men at the other table, staring at Jerry, whispering something with a sneer on their faces. Kurt makes sure to fix them with his nastiest stare until they realise they're being watched. Two of them grin, clearly amused but unbothered, but the third looks away quickly, a blush rising to his cheeks as he stares into his mug.
"I can ask around," Jerry finally says. "I know some of the names he allegedly has trouble with, but I have to be honest – most of what I hear are rumours. But I can make some inquires – look into who really is looking for him, how much he's worth on the street." He shrugs. "It's not much, but perhaps you can use that? Tell him that if he comes for you, you'll support a couple of nasty people looking for him."
Kurt and Nick stare at each other, their expressions dark. "It's not what I'd like to do," Nick replies. "But I would feel better knowing if that was an option available to us."
Kurt nods and takes another sip of his ale.
It tastes bitter on his tongue.
The afternoon sun is slowly sinking over the canopy of Green Park, but their rays have lost nothing of their power when Kurt pours the last bucket into the bathtub. He tests the temperature – slightly warm to the touch, so it will cool quickly – before he turns around to where Sebastian is sitting, toeing off his shoes.
Mrs Abbot informed him as soon as they returned that his lordship had expressed the wish for a bath, and Kurt has to agree with Jane about the practicality of having running water in the house. Not only does it spare him and the housemaids several trips up and down the stairs – it also ensures a prolonged period of privacy with Sebastian, which he has so far used to inform him about their conversation in the Cyder Cellars.
"And you're certain this Jerry is trustworthy?" Sebastian asks. He puts his socks in his shoes and stands to shrug out of his unbuttoned waistcoat.
"Nick trusts him completely," Kurt replies and takes the waistcoat Sebastian hands him. "And I have a good feeling about him as well. He is also presumably the only way we have of gathering information. Unless you…" He hesitates. He doesn't want to pry, doesn't want Sebastian to remember 'the old days', the times he spent with Daniel or the betrayal he suffered. But he also doesn't know how to avoid it if they want to find anything useful.
Sebastian shakes his head. "I can't think of anything else either," he says. He swiftly unbuttons his trousers, lets them fall to the floor and steps out of them. Kurt is surprised when he reaches down to lift them up and hands them to Kurt instead of going straight for the bathtub. "Let's just hope we don't test Daniel's patience if we keep avoiding an answer."
"It's been barely a week," Kurt replies. "I mean, even if you were to pay him, you'd have to get the money first – without your grandmother noticing."
Sebastian winces and turns towards the bathtub at last. Kurt slowly folds Sebastian's clothes over his arm, but before he turns to put them away he lets his gaze linger on Sebastian's body as the other man steps up to the tub. It's times like this that Kurt is struck with just how beautiful Sebastian is, his skin glowing in the afternoon sunlight, the long, lean frame of his body achingly familiar. Kurt remembers what it feels like being pressed up against it, feeling the delicious weight of Sebastian on top of him, skin against skin, and he can't tear his eyes away.
The muscles in Sebastian's legs shift as he lifts his foot to dip his toes into the water, his back bending gracefully as he grabs onto the ledge to lower himself into the bathtub, sighing with relief as the water engulfs his body, and for a moment, Kurt wants nothing more than to climb right in with him, to finally bridge that distance that's been between them all week, to quell the ache and the yearning he feels whenever he looks at Sebastian.
But he doesn't. He folds the clothes neatly over the stool and shrugs out of his own jacket, knowing from experience that it won't stay dry for long. He carelessly lets it fall on top of Sebastian's clothes and rolls up his sleeves before he grabs one of the washcloths.
For a moment he lingers where he stands, considering whether this is breaching some boundary. But it is nothing he hasn't done before, ever before they were… what they are now, and so he lets himself drop down next to the bathtub and dips the washcloth in the water pooling behind Sebastian's back. It is hardly lukewarm – the only acceptable temperature in the blazing heat outside – and he squeezes the cloth once before he raises it to Sebastian's shoulders, carefully wiping over his skin.
Sebastian doesn't seem to think it invasive, as his head immediately drops to the side, granting Kurt better access to work the cloth over his skin.
"So what have you been up to all day?" Kurt asks and traces the line on Sebastian's neck that marks the usual placement of his collar, where the tanned skin of his face morphs into the lighter skin usually covered by fabric, freckles and an occasional mole lining the way down to his shoulders.
"I looked at every fabric sample in this blasted city," Sebastian groans. "The dressmaker was here for, I kid you not, three hours. He brought the first mock-ups of our costumes, and of course nothing was to my grandmother's liking. She wanted something grander, more impressive in case her majesty actually decides to make an appearance. I swear, I have never respected a man the way I now respect Mr Dawson. He somehow managed to remain polite when he tried to explain for the thirtieth time that he has a limited amount of seamstresses and there is only so much embroidery that can be made within two weeks. That of course made grandmother go off about all the capable men who had designed much more elaborate dresses in a much shorter amount of time back in her day, but they finally agreed on some costumes for me, you, and the other footmen. So, hurray, I assume."
"Oh," Kurt says, feeling equally excited and disappointed: excited at the prospect that he too gets to wear a costume to the ball, disappointed that he missed seeing what these are going to look like.
Sebastian can apparently read his expression, because he adds with a fond smile, "Don't worry, they will arrive here the day of the ball. You'll have ample time to ogle them."
"I don't ogle, I assess," Kurt snorts and Sebastian tilts his head back to grin at him. "Can you at least describe them?"
Sebastian merely shrugs. "They're… blue, I think? Or grey? You know how hopeless I am with these things."
"Yes, I do," Kurt replies fondly and easily ducks when Sebastian flicks some water at him in retaliation.
For a moment, they smile at each other, the atmosphere easy and pleasant between them. Then Kurt drops the cloth back into the water and decides to address the other topic that's been heavy on his mind.
"I talked to Sir Robert yesterday" Kurt says. He shuffles a little to the right in order to now work on Sebastian's chest rather than his back, wrings out the cloth and brings it up to Sebastian's shoulders again.
They are tense.
"About what?" Sebastian's expression is guarded.
"About his illness. He told me about how the doctors don't agree on a diagnosis," Kurt says gently. "He also said that the prognoses are conflicting, but that a warmer climate really helped him, and that he'll depart for Italy soon."
"And that's good, right?" Sebastian asks and his tone is stubbornly hopeful. "That means he only has to stay in Italy or Greece and he will be fine. And seriously, he wouldn't be the first Englishman to choose that. The Barret-Brownings have been living in Florence for years now, and I think she also suffers from something. That means it's working."
"I hope so," Kurt says quietly, because he doesn't share Sebastian's determined optimism – can't, not when illness has taken away so much from him already. But there is no use destroying the hope Sebastian clings to – because after all, he might be right.
Silence falls between them, the only sound the occasional drips of water falling from Sebastian's hair.
"I can't help thinking," Sebastian says finally. His voice is hoarse. "That if he hadn't spent that winter at Bailey Hall, if only he'd stayed in Cumbria…"
"Stop," Kurt says gently. He lets the washcloth fall back into the water and reaches out without thinking, his fingers warm against Sebastian's cool cheeks when he frames his face in his hands, forcing the other man to look at him. "Don't do that. It's pointless, and it doesn't change anything other than you feeling bad for things far beyond your control."
Sebastian's nod is almost imperceptible against Kurt's hands, and for a moment, Kurt contemplates pulling his hands back, but he can't look away from Sebastian as the other man stares at him, his gaze raw and transparent.
"Kurt," Sebastian whispers, "I'm afraid." And Kurt feels the sentiment echoing in every fibre of his being, because there is so much to be afraid of.
Daniel.
Sir Robert's illness.
The possibility of them being in this over their heads, of losing something Kurt is just beginning to appreciate fully.
"I know," Kurt replies, his voice soft. "So am I."
Sebastian's gaze doesn't leave his, but his fingers reach up to hold onto Kurt's hands as he fully leans into Kurt's touch, and suddenly, Kurt feels overwhelmed at the emotion glittering in Sebastian's eyes. He has seen Sebastian naked before, but he has never seen him as vulnerable as he is right now, open under Kurt's gaze, letting him see every insecurity, every fear, every desperate longing.
They stare at each other for a long moment while the yearning desire to reach out, to be closer, thrums through Kurt's body, growing until it becomes sharp and focused and he can't keep still anymore. He doesn't know who of them leaned in first, suspects that they meet in the middle, but suddenly, Sebastian's fingers are in his hair, tugging him closer while their lips meet, a soft, wet glide that sends sparks through Kurt's bloodstream.
"I missed you these past days," Sebastian murmurs against his lips, his breath ghosting over Kurt's skin, and Kurt can't help the shiver that runs through him, leaving goose bumps in its wake despite the heat of the afternoon.
"I missed you too," Kurt replies, pressing back in for another kiss. Sebastian's hand, wet and warm, moves to cup his neck, tilting Kurt's head ever so slightly while Sebastian's tongue teases over Kurt's bottom lip, and Kurt happily grants him access, his lips parting to let Sebastian lick into his mouth, hot and heavy and grounding. The collar of Kurt's shirt is starting to feel moist from the drops still dripping from Sebastian's fingers, rolling down his neck as their tongues meet.
"I just didn't want…" Kurt says, when they part for a deep intake of air. He feels lightheaded, and caught in an odd place between laughing and crying. "I wanted to give you the space and time you needed."
"I know," Sebastian replies, his breathing laboured but his forehead still pressed against Kurt's like he needs the contact even when they're not kissing. "And I appreciate it. But right now, all I want is to hold you."
Kurt leans forward immediately, kissing the words right off Sebastian's lips, the rim of the bathtub digging into his chest uncomfortably as he presses forward. He wants to eliminate any distance between them, a sentiment silently echoed by Sebastian, whose arm comes up around Kurt's lower back, holding him close. They kiss, and kiss, and kiss, deep and connected as they seek out each other's warmth, strength, touch, taste.
Then Kurt bites down on Sebastian's bottom lip, dragging it between his teeth gently, and Sebastian moans, the sound reverberating loudly in the quiet room, and that shakes Kurt out of the cloud of desire he's close to losing himself in. He pulls back, equally sorry and amused when he sees the immediate frown on Sebastian's face.
"We can't," he says, and this time, it fills him with a deep sense of satisfaction to hear that his own voice sounds wrecked. "We can't, Sebastian. We'll just topple the bathtub or flood the bathroom and neither is a good idea."
"You could always join me," Sebastian suggests, wiggling his eyebrows in a way that is both suggestive and ridiculous and catches Kurt between wanting to roll his eyes and snort with laughter.
"Of course I could. And when I'll leave the room later I'll run right into Mrs Jenkins, who'll take one look at me with her eagle eyes and notice my rumbled clothes," he replies.
"I was going to suggest you take those off before you join me," Sebastian says and leans forward, trailing soft kisses down Kurt's throat as his fingers nimbly open the buttons on Kurt's shirt, sliding under the material and pulling at it to provide better access to more of Kurt's skin.
"She'd notice my wet hair then," Kurt gasps as Sebastian sucks slowly and deliberately on a spot between his shoulder and clavicle, low enough for any mark he leaves to be safely hidden under Kurt's uniform.
"Well," Sebastian hums and shifts to trail kisses down the other side of Kurt's throat. Kurt's hands slide down from his hair to his shoulders, Sebastian's skin slick against his palms. "You could always stay until we're both completely dry again."
Warm excitement is burning in Kurt's stomach, rushing lower, and he feels the flush on his cheeks, but his voice is surprisingly reasonable when he exclaims, "You have a dinner invitation in less than an hour, Sebastian."
Sebastian's movements still at that, and his mouth falls open as if to object before he frowns. "Damn," he says, "I do, don't I?"
Kurt nods and Sebastian sighs in frustration. He leans forward and presses another kiss against Kurt's lips, hard and demanding, and then another, soft and tender, until he finally pulls away, leaving Kurt breathless and yearning for more.
"Later then," Sebastian whispers, and after a short moment, adds, "We have time, don't we?" Kurt can hear the promise Sebastian is asking for, a promise he is more than happy to grant.
"Yes," Kurt replies, determination in his voice. "We have all the time in the world, Sebastian."
This chapter has an alternative ending, which I may or may not have written while being tipsy. I decided to cut it because it doesn't carry the plot and messes with the pacing of the story, but if you'd like to read it (warning: definitely nsfw), you can check out the ccath tag on my tumblr. Also, I am awful at replying to comments on this platform because I don't know how - but thank you SO MUCH to everyone leaving a comment and telling me how long you've been reading the story and what it means to you. It honestly makes my day everytime my inbox alerts me to another message, so thank you so so much for your patience, love and support!