"What a wonderful evening," Lillian breathed, nestling against Erik in the large bed as she awoke from a light sleep. "I'm so glad you stayed."
Erik kissed her brow, "Mmm, so am I." He slipped his arm under her shoulders, pulling her more firmly to him. He felt the length of her soft body against him, his hand idly rubbing her back. "Lillian, what did you mean, one last night together?"
"I'm leaving later today." She pushed away, looking into his eyes. "Erik, I thought you knew. I'm going to Chicago on the noon train." She handed him the train ticket Tilly had left on the nightstand for her.
"April 18, 1906," he read aloud. "Yes, that's today." He shook his head. "I must have forgotten."
She turned serious, sitting up and taking his hand. "I only came into town for the gala. I never intended to stay. I never thought I'd find you here." A look of wistful regret passed over her face. "I never thought I'd find you at all, Boy."
"I understand." And he did. They both had forged lives for themselves independent of each other. Their meeting again after all these years was indeed a miracle, but it was never meant to be forever. "This is just a small interlude in the story of Lady Lillian and the boy, who, for a brief moment, touched her heart."
Lillian rose from the bed and slipped into her night robe looking at him sharply. She'd heard that tone of voice before, from other men she allowed to share her bed. "Don't fall in love with me, Erik." Her voice was serious. "It would be a mistake. I can't stay here and you can't come with me."
"No. I can't." He nodded, rolling on his side to look at her. "You're right; it would probably be a mistake. I don't have much experience with love at all. The one time I thought I was in love…well, let's just say it ended badly." He brushed a hand over his unmasked face. "Not really a surprise, I suppose.
"Don't worry, Lillian I shan't fall in love with you." His voice hardened. "I won't make that mistake again, not with anyone."
"Don't say that." She moved to the edge of the bed, caressing his cheek. "Whoever she was, I hate her for hurting you." She pressed her hand to his mouth, silencing his words. "You're a good man. There's great kindness in you, although I think you do your damnedest to hide it.
"Please don't misunderstand what I'm about to say. I do love you, Boy. I think I will always love you. But I'm not in love with you."
He smiled, taking her hand and kissing it softly. "I understand completely. And I feel the same way. I love you, Girl, but I'm not in love with you."
"I'm glad you understand." She was quiet for a moment, then bowed her head. "I am leaving and I doubt I will ever return."
"Not even when the Foundation's hospital is built?"
"No. I have social standing and that gives me some power and access to money. But I've always felt the people deserving of the credit and adulation are the people who actually do the real work of helping the children. I'm just the face of the Foundation."
"And it's heart and soul," he said.
She looked away for a moment, twisting her fingers together. "I suppose, as I seem to be having a fit of honesty, I should tell you the rest."
"The rest?" He sat up, momentarily distracting her as the bedsheet dropped to a spot dangerously below his hips. He'd been almost skeletal from near starvation when she first knew him, but now years later and with proper nutrition, while he was still thin, a solid layer of wiry muscle lay just beneath his flesh.
"After Chicago I'm returning to England. I'm going to be married."
He sat still as a stone. He hadn't been expecting this revelation so soon after they'd been intimate. He hadn't been expecting it at all.
"You must think I'm a terrible woman." She said, staring into his mismatched eyes looking for some reaction. "Please, say something."
His head was whirling with the news. What kind of woman slept with one man while engaged to another? And yet men seemed to do it all the time from what he'd overheard at the club. And who was he, with blood on his hands, to judge her? "Why?"
"Why am I getting married or why did I coax you into my bed?"
"Both, I think."
She pulled out a small chair from beneath the vanity table and sat facing him. "If I'm going to bare my soul to you, you'll have to be less distracting." She smiled, looking directly at the spot where the sheet met his skin. He followed her eyes and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing while watching the flush creep up from his chest to the tips of his ears. "I'll wait."
Deciding two could play the teasing game, Erik pulled off the sheet, rose from the bed, and walked slowly to where his drawers, trousers, and shirt lay on the floor. He picked them up and locked eyes with her as he pulled them on. "Less distracting now?" He teased. He was learning quickly.
"Hmm, yes, but not too much." She huffed in a breath, and started brushing her hair, removing the few pins that Erik's seeking hands had missed. She would tell him everything, but she just didn't know where to begin.
"Are you in love with him?" Erik perched on the side of the bed. He'd pulled on his stockings and boots and was twining the necktie around his long fingers. The rest of his clothes were in the other room. They could wait.
"I'm fond of him," she said softly. "I suppose that's love of a sort. He's a good man and we suit."
"Suit?"
"It means we get on well together. It's not a love match as you would think of it. He's older, a widower with grown children in search of a companion. I suppose I'm very much the same."
"But you have no children." He recalled the bitter tone, tinged with sadness when she'd revealed that truth to him.
"No. I have no children of my own, but my late husband Danby was a widower when we married and his children have always been very good towards me. In a way I look on his sons and grandchildren as my own."
"It's not right, Lillian." Erik kept his voice soft, choosing his words carefully. "You give so much to so many others. You deserve to find real love and to be loved."
Her eyes came up to meet his. "I could say the very same thing about you."
"You don't know me. What I've done." He stood, restlessness pushing him to pace the floor. "I deserve nothing."
"Oh really? What's the worst thing you've ever done?"
You mean aside from kidnapping a young woman and almost forcing her to become my wife in order to keep me from killing the man she loved? "Do you remember the man who caged me? Davos?"
She nodded, locking eyes with him so he couldn't turn away.
"I killed him. I think I was twelve or thirteen at the time. It was very late at night. He was more drunk than usual and he came too close to the bars. I grabbed him, pulled my arm across his throat, and strangled him. Then I stole his keys and ran."
"He deserved it."
He saw the anger in her eyes and nodded. "Yes. He did; some of the others didn't. They were innocent and I killed them anyway without a second's thought because they got in the way of what I wanted." The anger changed to horror as she listened. He couldn't look at her any longer. He had to get out. "I should go. You should get some rest before you have to get ready for your train."
She followed him into the outer room, as he replaced his mask and moved to the door. "Don't you walk away from me just yet, Boy." He froze at her command. "Erik," her voice softened as she placed her hand on his forearm. "don't let's leave things like this. I don't care what you've done or who you were before we met yesterday. I don't want us to part in anger. Please."
He bowed his head, ashamed of how he'd acted. He was angry, he wasn't even exactly sure why, but he shouldn't take it out on her. "You're right. I'm sorry."
"Me, too." She pulled him into a gentle hug then abruptly pushed him away as an odd gurgling sound seemed to come from between them. "Oh dear," she laughed, putting a hand to her stomach, "we never did get that dinner, did we? Do you think the hotel kitchen is still open?"
"No." He pulled the watch from his pocket. "It's four-fifteen in the morning."
"Well, is there a restaurant or someplace open this late, or should I say early?" Her stomach gurgled again and they both laughed.
"I can't think of any place." Erik considered a moment more. "However, I do have access to a fully stocked kitchen not too far from here."
"I can't cook," she confessed, looking distressed.
"Then it's a good thing I can." Laughter lit his eyes. "Get dressed and we'll walk over to the club. We always have bread, eggs, and vegetables. If nothing else, I can make you toast and an omelet."
"Ten minutes," she said, darting back into the bedroom.
She was true to her word and appeared before him fully garbed in the traveling suit and comfortable half-boots Tilly had left for her the day before. She hadn't styled her hair beyond pulling it back at her nape and securing it with a matching ribbon. "I haven't bothered with a corset or stays, and I'm not wearing as many petticoats as I should, but I think I look respectable enough."
"More than enough," he assured her, opening the outer door of the suite and looking quickly down the hall. "Coast is clear. We should be able to sneak out and still keep my reputation intact."
"I'm so glad to hear it." She swept by him and moved hurriedly down the corridor. "Heaven forfend Erik Dantes be caught sneaking out of a lady's hotel room at four-thirty on a Wednesday morning." Then she laughed and grabbed his arm. "Hurry, I'm hungry."
. . . .
The walk to Club Incognito took ten minutes. They strolled casually, enjoying the brisk April early morning air and talking of nothing. Erik was acutely aware of every minute. He didn't want her to go, but he knew he could never ask her to stay. She had her future planned out and he had to finally figure out his own. For once, he decided to just live in the moment and not worry about tomorrow, or even the rest of today.
The night crew was just finishing up when they arrived. Erik pushed Lillian behind an open door, blocking her from view. The last thing he needed was speculation and gossip about the woman he was bringing into the club past closing time. He did a quick scan of the room, smiling as he noted his workers' efficiency. Chairs were already stacked on the clean tabletops. The long bar at the back of the room was polished, crystal glassware was shining and stacked ready for the next evenings' patrons, and they were just doing a final sweeping of the floors. "Go home," Erik ordered. "I can manage the rest and lock up on my own. Thank you everyone."
He stood in front of the open door until the last person left. Then taking one more visual sweep to ensure there were no stragglers, he closed and locked the door. "It's all right, you can come out now."
Lillian stepped from her hiding place, holding her hand over her mouth in an attempt to stop laughing. "I can't believe we're sneaking around like two young lovers hiding a tryst."
"No." Erik joined in her laughter. "We're two old lovers hiding a tryst."
"Not old, Mr. Dantes," she chided, "mature. And respectful of social norms."
"Mature. I like that; it sounds so much better than old." Taking her hand, he led her into the club's spacious kitchen.
When he first decided to buy the single-storey property adjacent to the building he already owned and expand Club Incognito, he knew he was taking a risk offering a dining room. But the risk paid off. He quickly learned that people who came to play and then stayed to eat, more often than not, stayed to play more after eating. And women especially, liked the feeling of being courted with a meal rather than just being pulled along for 'luck' as their gambling companions often called it.
He'd taken another big risk when he opened the club to woman. At first, they were required to have escorts, but he soon realized that ladies liked to gamble almost as much as their menfolk. He was even thinking of opening the club earlier in the day to offer a light luncheon and gaming exclusively for women. He would ask Lillian about that, he decided, valuing her opinion.
But first, he realized, he'd have to cook for her. Gesturing for her to sit at the large center island butcher's block table, he began pulling out mixing bowls and an omelet pan. "Do you think you could get the vegetables chopped while I mix the eggs?"
He saw her hesitation and changed his mind instantly. "No, perhaps it would be more helpful if you made the toast." He gestured towards the breadbox and the grills for holding the toast over the fire.
"Erik," Lillian shifted on the high stool, "while I am a woman of many talents, as you may be aware." It amused her to no end to see him blush. "I regret that I am useless in a kitchen."
"I see." Erik, grinned, looking her straight in the eyes. "Fortunately, for you, Lillian, I am, as you may not be totally aware, a man of many talents. Including having the ability to cook." He turned his full attention to preparing the ingredients for a simple omelet. "Here." He put four pieces of bread, already pre-sliced for tomorrow's menu, into a grill with a long handle. Then lighting a burner on the large gas stove, he gestured her toward the flame.
"You're making toast," he said, making sure he'd wrapped a towel around the handle to protect her before placing it in her hands. "Hold one side over the fire and watch the bread. If it starts to turn black or you smell it burning turn it over to the other side. When both sides are about equal, set the whole contraption aside and turn off the flame." He looked at her quizzically. "You do know how to turn off the flame, do you not?"
"I believe I can reason it out." She frowned at him, then picked up the grill and concentrated on her task.
Just to be on the safe side, Erik decided to open a few of the kitchen windows near the stove. He pulled in a breath of the clean pre-dawn air. He liked this time of day. The sky was just barely beginning to lighten and in a few minutes the birds would awaken and sing. But first, he had breakfast to prepare.
Within minutes, they sat before two plates of omelet and toast. "This smells heavenly." Lillian said, attacking her omelet with gusto. "Mmm, tastes heavenly, too. Where did you learn to cook like this?"
"Paris." Erik watched as she abandoned all her manners and shoveled the food into her mouth like a starving man. "I lived alone in my own small house. There was no one to do it for me, so it was learn from some recipe books or starve."
"Mmmm, " she repeated, "It's a wonder some woman hasn't snatched you up, with all your charms." She grinned wickedly, licking her lips, then froze at the look on his face. "I'm sorry. That was insensitive."
"No," he said, rising from the table and checking to make sure the gas stove was completely turned off. "It's being honest." He felt uncomfortable, and he couldn't explain why. Years of living on his own, always looking over his shoulder, honed his instinct for survival. It wasn't Lillian, he was sure of that. Just…something didn't feel right.
He looked at his pocket watch. It was twelve minutes past five. "The birds," he whispered.
Lillian looked up at him. "What?"
"The birds. It's too quiet." He didn't know what was happening. "Why aren't they singing?"
A roaring sound filled the air and Erik was thrown off his feet as the floor bucked. He looked up at Lillian, panic rising in his gut. "No. No it can't be."
Lillian rushed to his side, helping him to scramble to his feet. "What happened?"
He grabbed her, pulling her toward the outer door. "Come on, we've got to get out of here. Now!"
"Erik, what…?"
The roaring came again, louder this time, like a thousand trains bearing down on them. They'd just stumbled outside when the ground rose up, flinging them onto the sidewalk.
"Earthquake!" he yelled, grabbing her hand and holding on as tightly as he could. He couldn't get to his feet. The ground kept moving, a fissure opened down the middle of the street as he watched. Windows in buildings up and down the street shattered, throwing shards of glass everywhere. The building above them started swaying and he watched in horror as the wall started to crumble.
Erik grabbed Lillian around the waist and rolled them both tightly against the building under a wide window ledge adorned with potted plants. Bricks rained down on them from above. He looked at her in shock and all he could think of was the unfairness of it all. He was finally believing that he could have a good future, and now he was going to die, crushed under the very building he owned. He pressed Lillian's head to his chest and kissed her, closing his eyes. Goodbye, my dear Girl.