A pensive Chopin piece played in largo could be heard from the foyer, for Ciel sat with his gramophone in the main parlour. I sidled next to Joanne and whispered a quick, "chin up," to which he complied. Deciding that no introduction would be necessary, I opened the door before Joanne could have a chance to second-guess himself and flee back up the stairs. As Joanne was prodded past the threshold, Ciel caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, did a double take. "Who is— oh my."

Joanne stood with hands behind his back and looking down, but within the restriction of a corset had no way to slump his shoulders in trepidation. Ruffles were drawn across the chest to his shoulders, layering over a smooth bodice. His willowy frame had been given an elegant curve, and the dress belled in panels of regal silk. Gathered fabric revealed layers of rustling chiffon that emphasised an illusion of gliding. Ms. Hopkins had struck a fine balance between feminine delicacy and suave elegance. She perhaps had revisited a very reminiscent style, but it had been updated and refined, with less reliance on decoration and more on emphasis on establishing a balanced physique. Gone were the bows and tiered skirting, the bunched fabric and lace. It was a level of elegance that could have been considered ahead of her time. The seamstress had also given the ensemble a collar because that was all that could be done to hide a too-distinguished throat. A cap of that same Paris green tipped forward and displayed a flourish of feathers and ruffle. Even with his hair down the result was not unpleasant. In short, Joanne was very pretty and to watch my young lord attempt to ignore this fact would be too entertaining for me.

He stood from his chair, gaping like he was seeing this lad for the first time. "I say..." and he trailed to failed eloquence.

"Is that really all you can say, Ciel? I go through all this trouble and you can't manage to be your typical droll self?" Joanne pretended to hide a little smirk.

He stalked forward for a closer look. "What is there to say? I mean you look..."

"It's quite all right. I understand how difficult it is to pay a compliment."

Joanne rested his weight on one hip and waved a hand, which added to his bizarre pageantry. Between some new-found confidence on his part and Ciel's astounded reaction, I turned to hide my grin lest my amusement spoil the scene.

The imperious earl, not about to be upended, folded his arms and smirked. "You want a compliment? Very well. You make a very lovely woman."

Joanne's hands fell to his sides, clutching at the fabric. His expression softened, eyes watery and Ciel caught just how this had affected the sensitive lad. "I mean, that is what you were aiming for—"

"So I don't look like a fool in this?" It was true, Joanne was quite a bit taller than a typical woman, and underneath such delicacy of silk there was the unmistakable hardness of a masculine frame. Fortunately there was little built over top of that, instead flesh as fair as a maiden's, muscles thin and lean. Hair on his forearms was pale and sparse, on his chest practically non-existent, and from what I could tell there was little he ever had to shave from his face, still being rather young (and he kept to a very strict schedule of keeping clean-shaven).

Aside from having some rather gentle features, the gown was designed to hide certain aspects as well as enhance others. Given, if hair was styled and face was painted, a stranger not looking to spot a man in a dress would assume Joanne a lady.

"I was a fool to initially believe you were not serious about this, how this might have been an elaborate joke, but who would go to such lengths? I mean... you're stuffed in a corset. How can you even breathe in that?"

"I suppose I'm managing well enough."

The only feature that was strikingly masculine about him was his hands, those thick knuckles and long fingers. A pair of gloves would be fitting. He gave Ciel's hand a friendly squeeze, and the boy of short stature was caught in a moment of hesitancy with this unexpected contact. He could have wretched his hands away, could have taken a step back to non-verbally communicate such a dismissal of closeness. He took a deep breath, aware of how a thumb was lazily stroking over the tops of his knuckles, how Joanne was keener to look him in the eye.

The record had since stopped turning after we had arrived, and I crept to where the gramophone sat on its table. Ciel had records strewn all about, pulled from their sleeves. I picked one labelled "Johann Strauss Jr.," set it on the spindle and cranked the device to begin the table turning. The needle made contact with the disc and from the horn wafted a lilting little waltz.

My sheer enchantment with this device could not be denied, nor could the comic irritation with which Ciel turned to me at my tinkering with his new toy. As if on cue, Joanne dipped into a practised curtsy and this time there was no hiding my amusement. "Would you care to dance?"

My master looked as helpless as a fish ashore, squirming with terrified embarrassment that for his age and his status he still could not manage a decent waltz, as Joanne would soon come to realize. In seeing his dreadful expression, his face a starling red, I could not stifle a solitary bark of laughter, to which I received a swift, "Shut it!"

He cleared his throat and then turned to Joanne. "You know it's improper for a lady to initiate a dance. She is expected to wait for a gentleman to offer." Ciel veiled his reluctance to waltz with a condescending tone, but I could see that Joanne would not tolerate any of his attempts to slip out of this situation.

"Oh, so you see me as a lady now? Well, if that is the case, then I say I was given no choice but to break propriety because I see no gentleman in this room, save for the butler." I could barely contain myself from the irony of that statement.

"You are deceived, Miss, for he only looks the part." Ciel walked Joanne in hand in my direction. "But if you insist he is more a gentleman than I, then let him be your dance partner instead."

It was a great strain to force my face into a stoic expression once more. "Oh but young master, I think you would benefit from the experience of dancing with the fair lady. If she is so bold as to ask for a dance, she may even consent to lead it." Joanne passed me a knowing look, trying to maintain a placid composure, but could not resist biting his upper lip in memory of what had transpired upstairs. Ciel was not aware we had already shared a dance together.

"Joanne, you can't lead a dance looking like that, that's a breach of decorum that—"

"That is about as heinous and trying to push me onto a servant. Really Ciel, do you have no intention of upholding any sort of honour?" Joanne smiled and batted his eyelashes.

Ciel huffed for a moment, undetermined whether to feel insulted or amused. "That dress has made you rather cheeky."

"Yes, but I think you like it."

"…Maybe a bit."

"So you do like me in a dress then?" He backed up and twirled in a veritable display of flirtatiousness.

"No! I meant your cheek—"

Joanne laughed, a rich, genuine laugh, full in the throat, eyes squeezed shut with a hand to his face. "Ciel, gracious, it is so easy to poke fun at you, I would make this something of a past time."

"I'd rather you not." Despite a rigid tone, I think he was rather taken with such laughter, knowing he was the cause of such an infectious outburst, even if it was at his expense. There might have been a trace of a smile.

"Then occupy me with a dance instead."

It was no longer a request or suggestion, but rather a challenge, Joanne standing with shoulders back and hands on silken hips. Being of indomitable spirit and prodigious cunning, my master slipped on that mask of regal charm and extended his right hand with a bow.

He started the first step well enough, but when taking a step back he fumbled, forgetting to turn, and Joanne was sent to awkwardly rush into the earl's chest. He took the second turn too quickly to compensate and ended up stepping on Joanne's toes. It did not help that he was wearing those embroidered slippers, because we had come to find that the shoes packaged with the order were too small. Amidst all this stumbling and awkward steps he kept glancing in my direction, embittered that I might somehow be responsible for his woebegone state, and I could admit to having some influence.

Ciel knew the basic steps to the waltz, having been instructed time and time again, but when it came to the grace of the dance, how to elevate the chest, to sway with the music, he never could seem to get the hang of it. His leading arm could never retain the proper height, and he usually lost his posture about midway through a song. This resulted in him pushing and pulling his dance partner along, rather than leading around the floor. Joanne on the other hand knew the proper poise, could sway back and lean into turns with practised grace. What could have been a lovely sight was botched by Ciel's mismanaged leading, losing the rhythm and then trying to pick it up again.

Joanne suggested they try for a twirl, but Ciel began on the wrong count, and it was an abysmal reconnect with a rushed step that again resulted in hurt toes. It was at that point he dropped his hands. "Please allow me to lead."

It was true, Ciel did fare better when he was not directing the dance, but at least when Joanne took his right hand he would no longer have to suffer his toes being trodden. "Notice how my side steps are not so wide," Joanne demonstrated. "Shoulder length, see? Any wider and you unbalance your partner." He continued this instruction, praising when Ciel began to anticipate the quarter turns. "Now I'm going to guide you into a turn. Keep the rhythm in your steps. When I take my next forward step," Joanne guided Ciel clockwise under his arm, "one-two-three, and take my arm… now step back— that is how you turn a lady."

"Oh, seems simple when you do it."

"It is because I am directing you." They continued in a slow rotation. "Notice how when I glide forward your only option is to glide back? When I turn to the left your only option is to turn with me?" Ciel was paying less attention to his feet, letting them move to the music as he focused his view to Joanne. "We all know the steps to the music, those are drilled over and over because the real movement of the dance happens in the core of us. My arms are there to steady this movement, not to push and pull."

It seemed as though a light sprung in the young master's mind, a realisation that none had ever posed to him, for I thought such things were obvious from the start. "Oh, so you're not pulling at my waist with your arms, but rather the motion of the torso is leading the direction."

"Precisely! Would you like to take the lead again?"

They switched hands once more, and with the first count the earl directed with a control from his centre, which enabled his posture, his arms no longer dropping, his feet taking assured steps. Joanne had managed in five minutes what no instructor had been able to accomplish in years. Once Ciel understood how to lead, Joanne was free to conduct himself with a relaxed elegance. This gave the enthused earl an incentive to increase the sway in his turns, for Joanne followed, smiling and looking as though he was now having a marvellous time.

"I thought leading was simply a formality."

"No, you are very much responsible for how a lady moves, because she's going to move however you direct her."

"So if I want to move this way..." Ciel travelled across the parlour, the skirts of his partner swinging about as they spun.

"I have no choice but to follow, but I will say, you don't want to make a lady dizzy." Joanne sounded short of breath, his cheeks rather pink.

"Would you care to sit?"

"No, let us finish out this waltz."

Towards the end Ciel did manage to turn Joanne with far less clumsiness than previously. As he came forward to connect at the waist again his eye met with Joanne's and his palms began to sweat. That lovely young man must have noted this and held to his arm a little tighter, which prompted my master to spin them in an opposite direction, much to his partner's delight.

As the dance had progressed, I noticed how his confidence grew, his focus less on me standing in the corner smirking. It was when he began to lead his partner's movements, saw how Joanne's expression softened to it, his heart began to speed and it was not from the exertion of dancing.

"You possess a natural inclination to take charge, Ciel. Did no one ever tell you that this holds true for dancing as well?"

The music came to its end, the horn of the gramophone falling to silence and the two stood motionless, still holding to one another. "I... consider dancing to be rather superfluous."

"No, we say a great deal with our bodies when we dance, things we usually don't put to words… or things we would rather not put to words..."

"I suppose that's true. What is it that you have learned about me?"

Joanne's hand was no longer cordially resting on Ciel's but rather cupped with it, and he pulled in their adjoined hands. He leaned in to whisper in that pierced ear, "You can put on a good show, but you were quaking the entire time. Do I make you nervous?"

Ciel realized his arm was still holding up Joanne's, his left in the other boy's right, very nearly abreast of one another. He took a step back, dropping hands, and said, "I think now would be a good time for tea. I'm rather peckish after all this dancing."

Joanne stayed in his formal wear for the duration of the afternoon and into the evening, and after a time it became something of a game for the two boys to pretend that Joanne was indeed a lady. He assumed the role quite well, not as if he was acting, but rather that the tranquil grace of a woman was something inherent. Joanne's habits when he was dressed in his normal attire were actually evidence of a poor act, the decorum assumed by a gentleman that he attempted to emulate but instead wore like a pair of oversized gloves. When given the opportunity to, for no other description, act himself, there was an enhancement to his personality, his confidence apparent. He smiled more, he leaned into conversation and his laugh bore an earnest resonance.

Ciel found himself engaging with even greater attention, conversations growing excited, inquiring about the book he had bought Joanne, where he had learned to dance, and the possibility that Joanne should teach him more. After all, there was a ball in two weeks' time and prior to that afternoon Ciel had given up hope on ever making an impression with his dancing. Would the Lady Elizabeth be so surprised that her future husband could turn heads at the sight of them swaying across a ballroom floor? Could this be the one thing he could do to appease her?

The subject of conversation at the conclusion of dinner shifted to topics of marriage and obligations, having exhausted lighter fare and Ciel inquired, "What of your fiancée?"

For the first time that evening, Joanne looked crestfallen. "I fear it is not the greatest of circumstances for me."

"How so? She seemed pleasant enough when I met her at the dinner party."

"Yes, but pleasantness is plentiful among the gentry. She may be polite, and sweet, and she's even sort of pretty, but..." He was back to closing himself in, sunk in his chair, his hair a curtain for his face.

"But it's not enough."

"Is that selfish, Ciel? It's an arranged marriage, with a family that has given her a rather sizeable dowry because they want the benefit of marrying her into the Marquessate, my future title and position. There's something for both of our families to gain from this union. But in the little time I have spent with her... she's... oh I have no polite way to say it."

"Then say it impolitely." Ciel took a sip of his wine.

"She is as daft as a doorknob."

And he brought his napkin to his lips to keep from spitting.

"I'm sorry to be so alarming, but it's true. She has no interest in... well, anything of substance. She knows nothing of literature or philosophy, art or culture. I have asked her what particular talents she has, and you want to know her response? Recitation. She recites poetry. But if you were to ask her thoughts on the poetry she memorizes, she could not tell you how it affects her, if it has any meaning to her at all.

"And I would have hoped for a wife that could... be a little bit more, but despite all the charming young women I have been introduced to, I can't say any of them thrilled me, no matter how sharp or talented they may be. Oh goodness, I'm sorry for being so outspoken."

Along with clearing the table onto my trolley I listened in on their conversation while maintaining the disposition of someone who remained deaf to it. My lord knew better, understood I could hear the unspoken truths in people's words, but Joanne had not realized this feature of mine. He propped his elbows on the table, holding his head in his hands and Ciel felt uneasy that he had brought about a subject that wound such tension.

"No no, it's quite all right. Listen, would you care to continue this conversation in a little more privacy?"

Ever the gentleman, he stood as Joanne rose from the table, and they both snickered at the ridiculousness of it, but I think the young man in the dress adored the attention all the same. Already a bit tipsy from a decent amount of wine that evening, they shuffled to the smoking room, where Ciel opened the door for Joanne.

I was curious beyond belief over what he felt inclined to share behind closed doors, so of course I gave Mey-Rin instruction to set the kitchen right while I lurked to the other side of the house listening to what conversation was taking place within the smoking room.

The young master should have known better than to believe he could keep things from me. Perhaps he felt that if he went through the motions of maintaining his privacy then it would be assured, more for his own peace of mind. Crouching before the door, I could squint through the keyhole to glimpse a partial view of them in the room.

There was a moment of silence that accompanied Ciel's usual routine with lighting a pipe. After he allowed the smoke to settle in his lungs, he released with slow exhale. "I don't share my personal thoughts with anyone, understand? Most people I feel are not to be trusted, but I feel like you have shared enough with me that I can be open with you.

"This problem you describe, how none of these women could ever be enough? I get it. I know that feeling. I have that feeling every time I'm with Lizzie, and please understand I love her, she is a beautiful young woman and I am far too undeserving of her. I mean, I don't even know what I would do if she weren't in my life, but I can tell you right now, her presence in it brings me no real joy."

"Oh Ciel..."

"Let me finish, please, before I convince myself to not say this. I really cannot believe that the fault resides in her, why she will never be the one to be a source of… comfort. It has nothing to do with deficiency on her part, but... I believe it has everything to do with some… abnormality in myself."

He paused to drag from his pipe, hoping it would give him courage, but Joanne offered the conclusion to this instead. "You would prefer the company of a man."

I heard the pipe fall to the floor. Ciel gripped the arm rests of his chair, and Joanne leaned in his chair to snub his cigarette in the ash tray.

In a small, shaky voice, Ciel responded, "Yes."

"It's really not such a—"

"I just want to know, do you feel these inclinations as well? You speak poorly of your fiancée but do you think the reason why you feel no excitement for her has more to do with…?"

There was a shuffling in the room, the sound of skirts rustling as Joanne crouched before a desperate Earl, who now had no easy way to leave his chair. "I have a few important confessions. Listen to me for a moment. I knew, I already knew about this, about you and—"

"Oh Jesus Christ he told you? What else has he told you?" My master glanced to the door. Perhaps he knew I was standing just outside it and could not expect any different of me.

There was a pause. "He said the two of you had... a falling out."

It was no use for him to deny it or cover with any sort of pretence. "Did he explain what that was? Why?" There was the slightest hint that he was fishing for information because he hoped that Joanne could explain to him something he did not know. For all I could glean, the memory of that night was still blocked from his mind, and I considered that this might have been the mind's defence, his own need to not remember. He stood between wanting clarification and fearing the consequence of knowing and even I could not determine what the right course was for him.

"He did not go into great detail. I suspect he feels... regret for how things ended as they did." Was this really so apparent? Even if I had never uttered such words to him, the boy in Paris green spoke a truth that I had difficulty admitting to myself. What action revealed this fact to him, what words insinuated it?

"Does he now? That's rich. I wish he would tell me, come to me... but ever since... he just goes on like there has never been anything... when I see it, it hurts, Joanne, and I can't explain this aching because I know, somehow I know deep down he's withholding something." Ciel cradled his head as he propped an elbow on the armrest.

When Joanne placed a hand on his knee, he gazed at the boy in the chair with a most pleading expression. "He doesn't want you to know that he is. I suspect he wishes not to reconcile this because... there is some part of him that he can't let go of, some part of him that cannot look upon you as anything beyond his master."

My thoughts drifted to earlier in the day as I was dressing this timid young man, and he had inquired, "Why do you always refer to him as that?" When I explained, "Because that is who he is," he had continued to suggest that had I not considered him to be more, that I would not address him more intimately. Of course I had never called Ciel by his name, always to chant the name in my head, but never to utter it aloud. Why should a change in our arrangement with one another change my position with him? After I had posed that question Joanne's eyes looked so forlorn. "It is no wonder…"

Ciel's shaking voice brought my focus back to what was transpiring beyond that keyhole. "I wish it could have been more. It's a terrible truth, but the more I try to dismiss it from my mind and ignore it the more I can't…Joanne, what are you—"

Bare arms wound themselves around Ciel's hips, pulling him from his leaning position in the chair, and Joanne rested his head in that lap. I had told him of what loveliness comprised my precious little lord, and he was curious to discover it for himself.

"I have one more confession."

Ciel's heart raced, palms sweating, the trepidation returned afresh. "I think I can already anticipate what this is."

"Then I'll spare the words and cut to the chase."

Ciel was pulled to the edge of the chair as Joanne rose to his knees to connect with a shocked mouth unable to utter a word of protest. For a moment, as he sat frozen I anticipated he would relent to those smacking lips, the caressing hold on his back. It was most unfortunate that instead Ciel pushed away with a sharp inhale.

"Get off me."

When I heard a chair scooting over the carpet, I took that as my cue to leave the hall. A second after I had dashed around the corner, the door slammed open and the clacking of heeled shoes could be heard all the way up the stairs. There was sniffling in the room and creeping against the wall I peered around the door frame to see Joanne sitting on the floor, sobbing and bent over an ottoman.

There was a sneaking suspicion that if I were to encounter him it would only cause him more distress. He seemed perfectly content to manage his own distraught condition. On the other hand, Ciel seemed more than unsettled. Joanne's forwardness had caused him a great shock and I was concerned that when in such a heightened state he would be prone to impulsive behaviour. Given his history, the concern was not unwarranted. Traipsing up the stairs and to the end of the hallway, I found his door locked.

I tapped three times and was greeted with, "I don't want to talk to you right now."

Unlocking a door by willing it to unlock was a talent my young master seemed to have forgotten I possessed. He spun about from my entrance and stopped short. "Oh, it's you. Well, I don't want to talk to you either, so get out."

At least he had not started pulling books off the bookshelves and tossing them at me, so it could not be nearly as awful as what these two were making it out to be.

I crossed my arms. "Joanne is downstairs crying his eyes out, and as sensitive as he may be, I know he is not prone to spontaneous fits of sobbing." There was no need to suggest I knew the precise series of events that led to this outcome.

Ciel sat at his desk facing the window, head in his hands. "We're not having this discussion. I just… need a minute."

"To do what, my lord? Stare out the window?"

"Damn it must you always be in my business?"

The answer to that question would have been a definite yes, but I could tell the truth of that matter would only serve to irritate him further. His cheeks were flushed, he kept running his hand over his scalp in that nervous habit when he was feeling overwhelmed. He licked his lips and then brought his hand to his mouth.

"You kissed him."

He nearly fell out of his chair when he turned in my direction. His brow creased, eye seething when he saw my wide smile.

"He kissed me," Ciel hissed.

"Oh, how delightful."

He bolted from the chair, stomping towards me. "Do you have something to do with this? Did you put him up to this?"

"'Put him up to this?' My young master, he fancies you. Perhaps I gave him some prompting, is all."

He pushed me, a feeble attempt to affect me because he very well knew that he could not so much as cause me to stumble with that sort of force. "You manipulative shit. Is this why you designed to bring him here? To play games with me? To fool with me? Give him a pretty dress to prance about in so he feels he got something out of the deal?"

There he went again, accusing me of the worst intentions, when all I wanted was something nice for him. Could I not even accomplish that? No, such was not possible because my young master was completely incapable of receiving anything without believing of some ulterior purpose behind it.

I grabbed him by the shoulders so he would stop pushing me, because it was becoming rather annoying. "Do you think Joanne has the capacity to fool you? Do you think he is the sort of person to play with your emotions because it is asked of him? Joanne is nothing like you, my lord."

That bruised his ego a touch. He looked off to the side. "Unhand me." I complied.

"Yes, I offered the dress to him in exchange for spending time with you. I have known for some time that he admires you a great deal, and so he wanted an opportunity to know you better. He expressed an attraction for you, and I urged him to follow it. Is there anything in this that you feel is underhanded?"

"You're probably omitting something in there."

"Probably."

"Then tell me, Sebastian, what is the real reason he is here?"

"Because you permit him to be here."

"No that's not what I mean!"

"But you said the other evening—"

"Forget what I said! What is the real reason you offered him the invitation?"

I sighed, remaining silent for a time. My eyes darting away betrayed me, which was when he reached for my chin to steer my focus back to him. "Tell me, Sebastian. Do not keep secrets from me."

But when he knew the things I attempted to keep from him it pained him. He would resent me and send me away. He needed no more heart ache that stemmed from me, because that was all I could give him. But if he wanted secrets, who was I to say no?

"I invited him because he can offer you something I cannot."

"And what might that be?"

I removed his hand from my chin. "You know. I implore you to not make me say it."

There was this fissure in the barrier he had erected, pain seeping forward and I shook my head, wishing I could manage this, the same way I could unlock doors and prepare meals and protect him.

"I pushed you away for this reason, didn't I?"

"Do you remember that night?" I took a step back.

"To what night are you referring?"

Was he asking me to recount the events? Was he asking for a particular past date? I was sure that if I had to describe such a night my cheeks would burn, that intolerable tightness in my chest would return and not leave and my hands would tremble. Instead I knelt upon the floor with the most humility I could summon, head bowed low enough to tuck my chin into my chest.

"You said to me that I am to be your most perfect butler, your sword and shield, to erect your towers, to vanquish your enemies... and that would have to be enough. I have brought you a kind soul, someone who yearns to lavish you with affection, for that is what my young master needs. We both learned, in a very painful way, that is what you crave, and I cannot and will not attempt it because I refuse to deceive you, or lie to you, or betray your trust.

"I never want to give you reason to send me away as you did, because I cannot take back the consequences of that. I blame myself, because I could not control myself with you in the first place, and that was enough reason for you to end it. If being your shield means to protect you from myself, then so be it, regardless that every day has been a trial..."

He stood before me stiff as starched wool. "Then why do you put up with it?"

I looked up and he was on the verge of tears.

"Because when you give the final order, it will all be worth it." He spun from me as they fell.

Through a thick voice he mumbled, "Get off the floor, Sebastian." His shoulders hunched, he tried to wipe at his face discreetly, but the sorrow wafted off him as thick as when one opens a box of potpourri. Whenever he was the most irresistible was when I felt the most guilt for continuing to fail him.

My knees shook as I rose from the floor and my words felt like they ripped at my throat. "Young master, do you enjoy his company?"

He did not reply, his shoulders trembling.

"Is a kiss really that much of a shock to you?"

He shook his head.

"Will you go to him? Ask for his comfort and he will give it."

He shoved past me, running through the doorway and down the hall.

I was sure that Ciel had gone to apologise for his stupidity, or perhaps he would cling to Joanne and say nothing at all. I sat on his bed, pulling his pillow from underneath the comforter. It smelled of cinnamon, his hair, the heather that bloomed outside the parlour. Sitting on the bed, I curled around the pillow held to my chest, wondering why the situation had me feeling something rather unexpected.

Over the next few days, the usual pleasantness could be seen in the interaction between the boys, where they continued their discussions of literature over tea, began dance lessons in the parlour, and played the occasional chess game. The difference was there was quite a lot of kissing in-between, and they were not always very discreet about it.

Joanne stowed away the ball gown in the cabinet in the guest room, and resumed wearing his normal attire, reverting to his caged self. The young master noticed this change, commenting that the previous day Joanne looked rather happy, "like for the first time you could reside within yourself," were his words. It was an astute observation and Joanne was so moved by the comment they stopped short their dance practice for the day.

I told Mey-Rin to mind that she knock before entering the rooms. It probably did not need to be said, because she was not inclined to be in the same room with me or the young master if she could help it. This new habit she had developed of keeping her head down made matters so much easier to manage.

I left for the manor about the middle of the week to retrieve several items. Ciel needed his violin and his musical scores, and there was formal wear that Lizzie had ordered her fiancé months ago that was still in need of fitting. Important documents had been sent to the manor and he probably needed to take half an afternoon to address them. Even if he was on holiday and Tanaka was available to attend to most business matters in his absence, they were items that required Earl Phantomhive's notice. One last thing I decided to bring from the manor, and it was something of an impulse, was the young master's journal. I saw it on the bedside table as I was pulling clothing from his closet, right where I had left it.

He deserved to have it back. I wondered if he remembered writing in it, remembered what he wrote of, if there was something more he was itching to add to it.

After speaking to the servants and being relieved that they had not destroyed the place in my absence, I gave them instruction on when to arrive at the townhouse: five days prior to the night of the event. While Mey-Rin had done well to clean the house, the floors needed a proper varnishing, some panelling in the billiard room needed to be replaced, and the foyer could use a new coat of paint. Now that it was warmer, the back terrace could be cleaned off, the yard and hedges around the town house could use pruning, and it would be charming if additional lamps were set in the yard for ambient illumination. Accomplishing all this before catering arrived to decorate and prepare for 120 guests was the best course of action.

Speaking of the terrace, that was where I found Mey-Rin upon my return. Dead leaves and dust were cleared with frantic sweeping. She appeared flustered, and that was when I realized the town house was strangely quiet when I returned. I had become used to hearing the echoes of the two boys somewhere on the main level because sound carried rather far in that house. It was upstairs where the floors were entirely carpeted and the doors muffled everything. I heard it all the same, felt it all the same, some sympathetic quickening in my chest and the familiar tightness.

I took Ciel's wardrobe to the laundry room to iron later. Documents were left in the office library. His violin set on the grand piano in the ballroom. The time was half past four and there was no indication that Mey-Rin had even bothered to bring the boys tea as they would come to anticipate at that hour. I walked outside to the terrace. "Mey-Rin, did you already prepare afternoon tea?"

She hid her face which was blotched a terrible pink. "Don't think the boys were much in the mood for it, sir."

"I see."

I went down the steps into the yard, and she could have all the curiosity in the world as to where I was going but she knew not to ask. The master bedroom faced east, its two windows looking from the side of the house and much of the view was obscured by trees.

Perhaps it was curiosity, plain and simple. Perhaps I just needed to see them, to have absolutely no doubt in my mind. Perhaps I wanted to know what they looked like together.

From the branch of the oak tree hanging a few feet from the window ledge I peered through and as sure as Hell itself they were in the heat of it.