The note arrived at the same time that Mistoffelees returned from the House of Commons, and he frowned at how abrupt the request to meet came across, and headed right for Coricopat's flat.

Coricopat had arrived home shortly before Mistoffelees was likely to, and could barely stay still long enough to set his briefcase down and shrug out of his coat. He moved quickly and sharply through the flat, seeing if he could find anything in the small kitchen.

Knocking on the door, Mistoffelees frowned at the wood. The door opened after a brief moment, the mottled tom breathing a soft sigh, "Thank you for coming."

"Of course I'd come," Mistoffelees said, not having even changed since getting out of the House. Stepping inside, he closed the door and leaned up to kiss Coricopat.

Coricopat locked the door as he returned the kiss distractedly, "Still." He hesitated, "Have you spoken to your uncle today at all?"

"No, not in the last several. Now that I've fulfilled his demands, and am elected, he could care less about me," the black tom replied, frowning at the lackluster kiss.

His lover's ears tilted back slightly at that, curling his paw with the other's, "I wouldn't be so quick to write that off."

"Cor, what's the problem?" Mistoffelees asked, one of his own ears tilting sideways.

"I..." He drew a deep breath, "Bailey came to me today. Asked me if I was still working with you." Swallowing he finally said it, "I'm to handle the legal side of your engagement."

Mistoffelees took a step back as if burned. "My what?"

Coricopat turned away to his briefcase, locating the initial paperwork he was drafting, "Your betrothal to Miss Hawthorne."

Snatching the paperwork, Mistoffelees looked it over quickly. "She's the daughter of a Count," he murmured. "I've never met her for more than one dance at a party. This is insanity."

"I certainly won't argue with you about that." He paused for a moment before placing a paw on the other's shoulder, holding his free paw out for the paperwork.

The smaller tom had frozen in shock, finally looking back up at the paw on his shoulder. "But, I..."

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry," Mistoffelees repeated. "My uncle has my lawyers drawing up paperwork for an engagement he failed to inform me of. When was I going to find out? At the alter?

Coricopat shook his head, "He would have had to tell you that sooner. But I wish I hadn't been the one to have to bring this news to you."

"I can't tell if hearing it from you is better or worse," Mistoffelees said faintly.

"Come, sit down?" the solicitor sighed softly.

"I don't want to sit down," Mistoffelees replied, aware he was being foolish and petulant.

Coricopat's ears tilted back slightly at that, not entirely sure how to respond, "It's possible something could go wrong before the papers have all been signed. It has happened in the past."

"It's possible, but unlikely," Mistoffelees replied, finally handing Coricopat back the papers.

Sighing again, the mottled tom returned the papers to his briefcase, "I wish there was something I can do."

"Burning the papers wouldn't help, would it?" Mistoffelees managed.

"Not if we intend to keep up the ability to meet under the pretense of me working for you..."

"God," he managed, running a paw over his mouth.

Coricopat's ears lowered further, "That's about right."

"So I'm engaged then?" Mistoffelees asked, meeting his eyes.

"Almost," the other murmured. "It's been discussed apparently, and the papers reached my desk this morning, so in all but the most technical legal ways yes you are."

"You'd think I'd hear about that before my lawyer," he murmured, and paused before reaching a paw out, wrapping it around Coricopat's waist and trying not to just cling.

The mottled tom hesitated, but drew the other close, wrapping his arms around him and just holding him, "We always knew this was a possibility."

"Knowing and being are different," he said. "And I hoped... I don't know what I hoped."

"I know. I...this will change things, but somehow we'll find our way through it."

"We always do," Mistoffelees agreed. "We have, at any rate."

One of Coricopat's paws moved to stroke the other's cheek before he leaned down to kiss him tenderly, longingly. Tilting up into the kiss, Mistoffelees' tail flickered out to curl around Coricopat's leg.

The mottled tom leaned down further into the kiss, the paw at Mistoffelees' waist moving to trace up his spine.

v.v.v.v

The next morning, Mistoffelees paused outside his mother's boudoir. He'd spent the night with Coricopat, throwing caution to the wind for just that moment. Especially considering how much harder everything was going to become. After another moment, he knocked.

Serafine looked up from the embroidery she was working on, having risen early and taken her breakfast in her boudoir. She knew her brother would have no cause to come to her, and the servants left her be unless called, which meant it was her son who she was certain had not come home the previous night. "Come in, Mistoffelees."

Opening the door, he arched a brow. "Did you decide it was me from process of elimination?"

She smiled almost bitterly, "The only other cat in this house who ever came to see me without being called or pounding fit to knock the door down was Victoria and she has not been here for nearly a year."

"I suppose that is true," Mistoffelees murmured, looking around. "Have you been enjoying your morning?"

"It has been rather a quiet morning thus far. And you? Have you been enjoying your morning?"

He remembered waking up entangled around Coricopat and nodded. "It has had its moments."

"I am glad to hear it. And your evening?"

"It... also had its moments," he said after a pause. "Have you spoken to my uncle at all lately?"

She shook her head, "No. I have once again been avoiding my brother. Why do you ask?"

"I was given news, yesterday," he said and paused. "My lawyer contacted me."

Serafine considered him warily, "The lawyer who works at the firm your uncle uses, correct?"

"Yes, he worked with me over the summer as well," he said and paused again.

"And what did he tell you?"

"That he was told by his employer to start the paperwork for my engagement to Miss Hawthorne."

Serafine Quaxo froze at that, "He said what?"

"He also showed me the paperwork," Mistoffelees said, voice still soft. "I don't... I had no one else to talk to about this."

The elder queen looked at her son for a long moment, her tail twitching even as her expression remained placid, "Thank you for coming to me. I'm here to listen when you need me to."

"Thank you," he said, voice soft. "Though I'm not sure what to talk about. It seems... I do not know. Perhaps it would be a good match, but it is sudden and forced and he did not even come to me but the lawyers heard of it before I did." My lover heard of it before I did, he didn't add.

She dropped her gaze to the tapestry in the embroidery frame, "I do not know that it would be a good match. A beneficial one, certainly, but do you know the young queen in question?"

"No," he replied.

"Well," she sighed, "the Hawthornes are at least known for being kinder than many of our set, and their daughters are sweet enough I suppose."

"Sweet enough does not seem a sterling recommendation," Mistoffelees shook his head.

"Well, I cannot recall ever having met the girls themselves. Their mother is a kind queen though, and their father open-hearted."

He nodded, taking a deep breath. "The in laws sound better than my own uncle. But I hardly wish to marry a queen for such a reason as that."

"I know, Mistoffelees. It is small consolation." She shook her head, every line in her body tense, "My hope is that you can grow to care for her, but it would have been wiser for him to have you meet her at the very least."

"I would have liked that," he agreed softly.

"We shall have to see to a time for you to meet her if this is truly to happen."

"Please," he murmured.

Serafine inclined her head, "May I ask where you were last night?"

The black tom tried not to obviously tense, taking a breath. "Last night?"

His mother nodded, "Yes, you were gone all night I believe?"

"Yes," he admitted finally. "I was. I... did not want to come home."

"I can understand that," Sera nodded slightly. "Where did you find yourself?"

"I occupied the guest room of a friend," he returned.

"I see. Are you going to be alright should we have to dine with your uncle this evening?"

"I will find some way," he murmured, glancing down.

"I will be there as well if you choose to dine with him," she offered quietly.

"Thank you," he inclined his head. "For... everything and anything you have done for me."

Serafine smiled softly, "Always, my dear son."

"Thank you, Mother," he repeated, unused to having a mother.

Serafine rose, "If you don't mind, I have a couple of things I need to see to today."

Mistoffelees smiled and nodded. "Thank you for taking the time. I shall allow you to return to your day."

"Good day, Mistoffelees. Close the door as you leave, please," the trust was implicit in leaving him in her private chambers.

His eyes widened. "Of, of course mother."

Serafine offered him another smile before slipping out, her expression hardening and her spine going stiff as she swept down the stairs to her brother's office. She knocked cursorily on the door, just to alert him to her presence, before continuing her way into the study. Her tail was still, her ears in a neutral position, but her paws shook with restrained anger.

Jones looked up in surprise. He looked very much like he'd spend all night drinking and was not pleased with being disturbed. "What is it?"

"When were you intending to inform me of your decision to betroth my son?"

The baron blinked. "Where did you hear that?"

"From my son."

Jones blinked once. "Dare I ask where he heard before the official announcement?"

"The lawyer who needed his signature for the initial papers," She lied icily. "Where do you get the right to use him as a pawn and not even let him know that you are?"

"I have not seen him," Jones shrugged. "I wanted to make sure the lawyers were aware."

"How dare you do this in the first place! He is not your political pawn. He is my son."

"He is my heir," Jones said with a small shrug of his fat shoulders.

"I kept quiet when you bargained your daughter off, that was your prerogative, but Mistoffelees is not yours to command and control. He is his own tom, and I'll see you damned before you hurt him further," his sister spoke coldly, but there was venom laced in her tone.

"Hurt him?" Jones asked, as if surprised at the very idea. "I am giving him everything. Is it so much to ask for some cooperation and honor to the family? I can hardly have him running off and marrying whoever he wants like you. I must have him tucked away before then."

"He is too solidly entrenched in this society to marry beneath him. And you keep Orion out of this," she snapped. "He has bowed before your wish for him to enter Parliament before he felt he was ready, this however does nothing. There is no honor to the family to be had in this, only a higher payment to line your pockets with and buy you brandy." Serafine knew she was crossing lines, but by God she had long bottled up her feelings regarding her brother and couldn't seem to stop at the moment. It was disorienting to her, usually able to keep even her most violent tempers in check, to find herself losing rein of her tongue.

Jones snarled. "He is my heir. He will bring money and honor to this family. If you have difficulty with that, I believe the country is lovely this time of year."

Serafine drew herself together, her chin coming up, "To send me away at the same time as you betroth my son will do no favor to your honor, Bustopher. In fact all it will do is bring scorn to you. He is already brining honor to your family. You have not even given him time to acquaint himself with Parliament and you send him to marry someone he does not even know."

"The official announcement has not been released yet," Jones said with a shrug. "It will balance itself out. The people prefer representatives who are married."

"The people had no difficulty electing unmarried toms this time."

"But the time after that?" Jones shrugged.

"Is still a distance out," her ears finally lay back.

"Better to be prepared than sorry."

Her jaw tensed, "And when did you plan to introduce him to his fiancée?"

"There shall be a ball in three days' time," Jones said. "They can meet there, and the announcement can be made. In a month I believe we shall throw our own ball for the sake of their engagement."

Sera drew a deep breath and nodded once, trying not to snarl, "Very well. Good day then, brother."

"Good day," Jones returned, coldly. Serafine kept her back stiff as she swept from the room, waiting until she had closed the door to let her posture slump at all.

v.v.v.v

Macavity waited on the curb for Coricopat. "Think you'll be able to handle this?"

The mottled tom shook his head slightly, "I don't have much of a choice, now do I? But I can hardly not go."

"I'm sure you could make some sort of an excuse," the red tabby shrugged.

"And risk offending Jones? I'm not that foolish, Mac," Coricopat sighed. "Best to get this over with I suppose."

"It's a long night to get over with," Macavity said, trying to smooth down his headfur with one paw.

"Yes, it rather is, but not insurmountable," his friend murmured, hoping he sounded more certain than he was.

Personally Macavity looked less than certain. "Let's go then." Coricopat nodded, hailing a cab and holding the door for his friend.

Macavity remained silent the ride over, still compulsively trying to smooth his head fur. It had gotten longer, and a bit more unmanageable the last year, but he hadn't minded before. Coricopat glanced at his friend as they arrived, "You look fine, Mac. Though you should have had that fur trimmed weeks ago."

Macavity shrugged. "Can't change that now," he muttered.

"It's fine, Macavity. We'd best go inside."

Nodding, the lawyer slipped from the cab, heading for the ball doors. No part of him really wanted to be there, but when did what somecat want matter?

Coricopat paid the cabbie and followed his friend, falling into step not far from the door. His preference would have been to leave then and there, but having responded that he would be attending he could hardly depart before even entering the building.

Inside, the ball was going along at a decent pace. Mistoffelees looked like he would rather be anywhere else, and like he might break if one more person congratulated him.

Victoria had arrived on her husband's arm fashionably late, but still within the realm of courtesy. She had managed to slip away from Plato and wove her way through the ball to her cousin's side, even as her gaze was drawn to the entrance of the room as the two solicitors entered.

Mistoffelees' eyes had gone there too, and he couldn't tell if he was relieved to see them or if his stomach was twisting with fear and anger. His cousin stepped up beside him, her gaze still on the door, "Mistoffelees."

"Victoria," he said, not turning to look at her. "How does tonight find you?"

"The same as last night found me and as tomorrow night shall as well I expect," she murmured in response.

"That good?" he titled his head toward her.

Victoria's smile was one that held promise of turning one day into the bitter ones her aunt bore much of the time, "At least that good."

"Well that's something," he said, looking across the room where he could see Plato talking with his uncle and tried not to scowl. "Did... did you at least enjoy the honeymoon trip?"

"I enjoyed parts of it."

"You'd said you wanted to travel," Mistoffelees mused. "At least you finally got the chance."

"I suppose that is true," Victoria murmured. "How do you like Parliament?"

He managed not to laugh. "It's... different," he managed. "Less civilized."

That earned a ghost of a smile, "Less civilized than what, cousin?"

"Well... I would usually say things like that but I'm not sure that applies anymore," he said, actually smiling genuinely for the first time in a while.

Victoria slipped an arm through his, "Well, nevertheless it is less civilized than something."

"Certainly," he agreed. "More honest though. I can't decide which I prefer anymore."

"Perhaps honesty is the more honorable recourse, even if it is not always civilized?" She offered.

"I'm starting to adjust to it," he said, eyes settling on Coricopat from across the room again.

"Should you go greet them?" Victoria asked, her gaze following his.

"Maybe," he murmured. Except everything in him was all but straining toward the mottled tom and he felt if they touched it would be far too obvious. A paw shake would let the whole room in on their secret.

She looked at her cousin for a long moment, wishing to speak to the red tabby but unwilling to approach him on her own for fear of what Plato would do or say in such an instance.

"Would," he swallowed. "Would you like to go over?"

"I..." She glanced at him, "If you are not comfortable with it, I can refrain."

"I'll manage. You'll need the excuse for Plato later," Mistoffelees said, steering her over.

She offered him a grateful smile and murmured thanks as they approached the two solicitors.

Macavity smoothed is headfur down again, offering the pair a strained smile. Victoria inclined her head, "Mr. Hollister. Mr...Zimmerman I believe?"

Coricopat nodded, "Yes, kind of you to remember, milady."

"Mrs... Philipson," Macavity murmured. "I'm sorry, it is odd to think of you with an entirely different name."

She offered him a smile that was only slightly strained, "It has been nigh on a year and I must admit that it is still strange for me as well, sir."

"Surely not that long," he murmured. ((Probably more like 7-8 months. Since this is the start of spring and they got married in August. Well, probably the early middle of spring))

"No, perhaps not quite that long," the white queen admitted softly. "But over six months."

"Yes," Macavity said, wishing suddenly to have a real conversation and not niceties. "Are you settling in then?"

Mistoffelees looked from Victoria to Macavity to Coricopat, swallowing. "Mr Zimmerman," he greeted quietly.

"I am settling in as well as I can," Victoria answered, wishing for a more private conversation, away from prying eyes and ears.

"Mr. Quaxo," Coricopat's gaze moved from the other two, to meet Mistoffelees' eyes. His masks were more firmly and forcibly in place than they had been in many a long month.

"Thank you for coming," Mistoffelees said, and he should be glad Coricopat had so many masks, but instead it only hurt and felt odd, considering the last time he'd seen the mottled tom had involved lying tangled together for the amount of time they'd had.

"I'm glad," Macavity replied.

"I would hardly have turned down the invitation," the mottled tom murmured, his grey eyes holding the unspoken "to be here for you".

Victoria offered a faint smile, "And how have you been, Mr. Hollister?"

Mistoffelees dropped his eyes, looking back over at the ballroom, trying not to think about the fact his betrothed was across the room. "Thank you."

Macavity rolled his shoulders. "I can't complain much," he managed after a moment or two.

Coricopat sighed very softly, his mask cracking, "The papers are going through smoothly."

Victoria considered the red tabby and then nodded, "So not so well as it could be?" Her gaze moved to the dance floor.

"Just what I wanted to hear," Mistoffelees said with a strained smile.

The red tabby's eyes followed Victoria's to the dance floor. "Would, would you prefer to be dancing?"

Victoria glanced up at Macavity, murmuring her response, "There is more privacy on a dance floor than anywhere else in a ball."

Coricopat inclined his head, pain reflected momentarily in his grey eyes, "Has the date been set yet?"

Holding a paw out, Macavity led her to the dance floor and Mistoffelees bit his lip. "Not yet. It might be held off until next season."

"What do you think of the young lady?" the mottled tom asked softly.

"She," Mistoffelees took a breath. "She's as sweet as anycat here could be, and I'm sure she's perfectly nice. But I don't, I don't want to marry her."

"Does she want to marry you?" came the next question.

"I can't tell," he admitted, watching the dancers. "It's hard to figure out what anyone actually wants..."

"All of us wear masks and facades, and all it does in the end is damage those around us."

The black tom glanced up at him, offering him a faint smile. "Yes." He wanted nothing more than to lean against the other, or drop at least one mask but knew better.

"Are you free later this week?" Coricopat glanced at him, keeping his paws at his sides rather than reaching out to brush over the other's headfur to smooth a lock down.

"I'm sure something can be arranged," Mistoffelees said quietly, not looking at the mottled tom.

"Friday evening?"

"I will figure something out," Mistoffelees said, glancing up at him.

The corner of Coricopat's mouth turned up just slightly, "If something arises let me know." He glanced at the other before returning his gaze to the dance floor.

"I will," Mistoffelees promised, watching Victoria dancing with Macavity, looking at Plato and Jones who both looked put out but could hardly complain. "It'll be fine."

The mottled tom didn't remark on that beyond a quiet, "of course it will," and even then felt like he was lying.

Terribly sorry for the long lack of updates! There was some mad scrabbling around as usual, and also The Avengers was rather distracting. However, we hope you enjoy the chapter!