Oscar could never get quite used to British weather, New York weather was by no means pleasant this time of year but at least it was constant. The weather here changed on a whim, first raining, then windy, then cold enough to make the rain freeze before a dusting of snow covered everything. It was enough to make him carry an umbrella everywhere, and he shook off the afternoon rain and slush before knocking on the door and following Penelope into the Featherstone home.

She pursed her lips at his wet coat, "You'd better hang that up, otherwise you'll be joining Father."

"Is he doing better?" Oscar inquired, glancing towards the stairs. Nigel had been laid low by a bout of pneumonia, fortunately a mild case but it had quickly sapped his strength. Penelope had been turned into a nurse, as well as her other work.

In fact, she looked rather strained. "Oh yes, but he's not fully recovered. He spends most of the day sleeping, to be honest."

"And you?" Oscar raised a brow, "You look rather haggard, Pen."

He saw her lips twitch at the nickname. "I am perfectly alright."

"You look like you're about to fall over," Oscar chuckled, pulling his coat off to hang. "Go sit down and I'll bring you something."

She hesitated, her blue eyes darting. "I really shouldn't."

"Pen," He reached into his coat pocket, "Go, I brought presents and I would like it to be a surprise." She blushed, ducked her head, and disappeared into the parlor. Oscar grabbed everything he needed, made sure she wasn't looking, and stepped into the kitchen. He smirked to himself as he got everything ready, his consultation with his cook was going to pay dividends.

He managed to not burn himself while boiling water, transferring it to the nicest tea pot he could find and adding the finest tea to it. He had prowled through every dealer he could think of and bought at least a dozen packets with him. He had picked one that was floral yet full bodied, and he was praying Penelope liked it.

He knew she would like the ungodly amount of teatime sweets he piled the plates with as well as the fresh cream and fine sugar. Oscar organized everything on a tea tray, hefted it into his arms, and then made his way to the parlor. Penelope immediately looked to him, "Oh, you didn't have to."

"I did, Pen. You desperately needed cheering up and a distraction." He set the tray down. "Cream and sugar?"

She nodded, "You don't have to call me that, you know. My name is perfectly sufficient."

"And it's a lovely name," Oscar handed her a cup. "But I have to admit I do enjoy having a nickname for you, I doubt you let the other boys get away with that."

The color on her cheek had nothing to do with the heat of the tea, "There aren't many other boys, you know."

"But there will be," Oscar poured his own cup. He preferred a much more astringent blend, or better yet coffee, but he couldn't complain, not when the company was so delightful. "I'm quite sure after the war they'll be lining up around the block to sit down to tea with you. I should just consider myself lucky I managed it first."

"And you'll have every girl after you." She spoke quietly, "Once you get back to New York."

Oscar shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. "But you'll be coming over, at least some time! My family, if they haven't disowned me, would be glad to host you." He smiled, then shook his head. "And your father, of course. You both deserve to get shown a good time after everything you've done over here."

Penelope smiled at him, and he couldn't help but notice how the corner of her eyes crinkled and made the light in them dance. "And my hypothetical fiancé?"

"Well, I suppose he could come along if you insisted." Oscar rolled his eyes, but grinned to make it clear it was all in fun. "Although he'd have to endure my fiancée."

"Heaven forbid," Penelope giggled, "They might just run off together and we'd both be left in the lurch!"

Oscar stood, bowing deeply. "If that unfortunate event occurs, I shall gladly take up the honor of being your fiancé." Penelope's hand was over her mouth, but he could see her smiling behind it. He caught up her other hand, pressing a kiss to it. "Do we have a deal, my dear?"

She shook her head and waved her hand, "Oh, stop teasing me. We both know it's unlikely to happen."

Oscar sat back down, "But it could, it wouldn't be the strangest engagement I've seen."

"You must tell me about them some day." Penelope considered her empty cup, "I'm sure you have so many stories."

Oscar reached for her saucer, refilling her cup. "Some of them aren't fit for a lady's ears, Pen."

"I'm hardly a lady, Oscar."

He looked at her, cocking his head. "You're more of a lady than some aristocrats I've met, I wouldn't want to offend you."

She reached for her cup, her fingers brushing over his. "Oscar, I've read everything I could about the Tudors, I'm well familiar with sex and power struggles. Nothing you could say would shock me."

Oscar felt his heart flutter the longer her fingers touched his, his mouth slightly dry. "Are you sure? I should hate to upset your father."

Her fingers withdrew as she took her cup and saucer from him, letting him have a moment to regain control of himself. "I highly doubt anyone in your stories accused their wife of incest with her brother and then had her beheaded so they could marry their mistress."

Oscar took a very sloppy sip of tea, patting at his lips with his napkin. "Well, I can't say they did. But sometimes I think they wish they could."

"I certainly hope you don't have those ideas, once you're married." Penelope had glanced away.

Oscar did the same, focusing on the porcelain of the teapot. "I intend to be fully loyal."

"As do I," She glanced back. "And I don't have a brother to be accused of fornicating with."

He smirked, "Well, that is one benefit to being an only child."

"It is, although it does get lonely." She sighed, reaching for a biscuit. "I don't think you ever had to deal with that."

"I didn't," He admitted, taking a biscuit for himself. "If anything, I had more than just my sister, when a party is thrown it's common practice to simply shove all the children together after you've shown them off."

"I hated being shown off as a child." Penelope bit into her biscuit, a slight sigh escaping her lips as the taste hit her. "Father never let me take any books to parties."

"Now that surprises me."

"I was supposed to impress his friends with my conversation and what I had learned, I managed it sometimes but more often than not I fumbled my way through."

Oscar wanted to reach out and take her hand, but he restrained himself. "You're certainly impressive now, Penelope. I know your father thinks so, and so do I."

Her blush could have put a tomato to shame. "You, you should really head home Oscar. It was very kind of you to visit."

Even though he knew he should go, he didn't want to. "I didn't say anything that upset you, did I?"

She quickly shook her head, "Oh, no, but Father will be up soon and there might be other callers and if they saw me with you unchaperoned, well, it would create difficulties for both of us."

Ah, that. Oscar had honestly thought she had been beyond that expectation, she always acted so sure of herself and confident that he thought she had hardly cared what others thought of her. But when he thought back, he realized that most of their interactions had been with her father either with them or nearby. He stood, straightening his jacket. "Pen, I'm sorry if I put you in a trying situation."

"You didn't." She stood, wringing her hands. "You've been wonderful."

"You're both welcome to come over for dinner later this week, if your father is feeling better."

"That would be lovely."

"Then until then." He found himself unsure of what to do. He wanted to hug her, she needed it, but given her concerned about being unchaperoned, it might be a bit much. So, he simply took her hand again, kissed it, and bowed his head to her. "Thank you for a lovely tea, Miss Featherstone."

The blush was high in her cheeks. "Thank you for everything, Oscar."

"It was nothing, there's plenty of tea in the kitchen and I left the cream in the icebox. I can get everything easy enough so let me know when you need more." He went back to the door, pulling his coat back on and grabbing his umbrella. Penelope followed with hesitant steps, but when he looked to her, she gave him a smile before he stepped outside.

Oscar eschewed a cab back to his house, preferring to walk even if it was through a drizzle. Walking gave him time to think, specifically to think about Penelope. He hadn't expected the conversation to take the turn that it had, but he didn't regret it. He enjoyed speaking with Penelope, even if it was about their marital future. Oscar truthfully hadn't given much thought to that after Anastasia had married.

He knew he would marry in the future, but he knew it much like he knew he would eat dinner three days from now. There were no specifics to it, he just knew it would happen someday. He had been far more focused on Anastasia, because at least with her he knew where he stood. He might not have married her, but he still loved her. He could be whatever she needed, but not her husband.

And yet, when he had touched Penelope's hand, it had awoken a feeling that usually only made itself known around Anastasia.

He had wanted her, if only for a moment. When Penelope wasn't focused on her work to the exclusion of all else, she was enjoyable to be around. Her conversation may have been blunt, but it was enlightening. Not to mention that she was quite pretty, even if her clothing didn't suit her. But still, it was enough to make him unsettled. Loving Anastasia was a constant, but these feelings were new and frightening, threatening to upset everything in his life. The question was if it was worth it to risk the constant in his life for the new.

He was still pondering that when he opened the door, shrugged off his coat in the entryway, and was greeted by the sight of two very large men glaring at him. He was flabbergasted, "Can I help you?"

One of them turned his head towards the parlor. "Fancy boy's here, sir."

"Bring him in." A familiar voice called out, and Oscar was quickly steered into the parlor. The fire had been built up, a rather frightened maid stood in the corner, and a man sat in a chair by the fire, a dog at his feet. Oscar goggled, "James? What the hell are you doing in my house?" He looked to the dog. "Dusty?"

The dog's tail began to wag, and a whine escaped her throat. James looked down to her, "Well, at least you still remember us. Go on, Dusty, it's all right." The maid was dismissed as well, leaving behind a tray with a decanter of brandy and crystal glasses.

Dusty stood, coming to wrap herself around Oscar's legs as he sat down. Oscar reached down to scratch her ears, smiling slightly as she licked his hand. "It's not that I'm not pleased you're visiting James, but you could have called ahead." He looked towards the entryway. "And not scare my staff."

James snorted, "This isn't a visit, you're coming home."

Oscar straightened up, Dusty using the opportunity to put her front paws in his lap so he could keep petting her. "James, I'm sorry, but I'm not."

"Boys," James called out, and Oscar quickly found both his arms forced down and tied to the arms of the chair. The sailors James had brought with him weren't rough, but they weren't gentle either. Dusty didn't seem to care, using the moment to lick his face. James waited until they had left to speak again. "I didn't say you had a choice in this, Oscar."

Oscar tugged at the rope holding his hands down, but sailors knew their knots well. "You're kidnapping me, James? Isn't that a bit dramatic?"

"You sister is five months pregnant!" James stood, his voice rising. "She misses you terribly, as does everyone else!" He raked his hand through his hair, beginning to pace. "Haven't you finished whatever business you had over here? Anastasia is safe, we all know that's what you wanted to find out."

Oscar swallowed, "James, I'm doing more than that. I'm helping with the war effort."

"What? I talked to your staff, they said you've been out every day this week and most nights. How exactly does going to elaborate dinners help the war?"

Oscar shifted, unsure of how much to reveal. It had been a plan of Penelope's, to use his familiarity with the upper crust to try and ferret out any German sympathizers. He could slowly wheedle information out of them over drinks and dinner, and then report on what they said. He did his best to dislodge Dusty "James, I need you to trust me."

"Frankly, after running away from your family in the middle of the night, I don't think any of us will ever trust you again."

"And do they trust you?" Oscar growled, "Did my father put you up to this? Or was it my sister?"

James swallowed, turning away. "None of them know I'm here, not your parents, not Liz, not Mrs. Dalian."

"This is all of your own initiative, then?" Oscar raised a brow, "I'd say I was impressed if you didn't have me tied up. What was your plan, tie me up and get me on a train down to Southampton?"

"A car." James muttered, "I had hoped to convince you to come willingly."

"James," Oscar sighed, "You know that if I could come home to be there for Liz, I would. But we both know if I show up, Father would lock me in a sanitarium until the war was over."

He turned, his face distraught. "It's my child, Oscar. I want their uncle to be there, Liz wants you there. She's terrified of giving birth."

"I'm not much help with that. Mother and Mrs. Dalian should be able to help, and I'm sure Sophie would be willing to be there."

"They're not her brother." James came to kneel to look him in the eye. "I won't tell you all the names she called you, but I know she was incredibly upset when you left. What is keeping you over here? Are you joining up?"

Oscar shook his head, "No, not that. But James, haven't you ever had a moment where you felt utterly useless? Like there were so many doing so much, but you were merely a burden?"

James looked down. "I know that feeling far more than you, Oscar."

"Here I don't have that feeling when I'm doing what I can." Oscar jerked his wrist against the ropes, drawing James's attention to it. "Could you take these off? I promise I won't run, and this conversation would go easier with some brandy."

James had the knots undone in an instant, and soon enough the two of them were sat across from each other in front of the fire. James took a large sip, "That night, on Titanic, it felt like I was fumbling everything. Will told me what to do, but it seemed like everything I touched went wrong."

Oscar took a sip of his own brandy. "I'm sure that's not the case, James."

"Oh, I know it wasn't." James let out a mirthless chuckle. "I did everything right, but in the end, it still made me feel as if I hadn't done enough. And then when Will pulled me onto the lifeboat, once we were floating, I truly was useless. I couldn't feel my feet, I was making the boat sit lower in the water, I couldn't do anything to help." He poured more brandy into his now empty glass. "So yes, Oscar, I do know what it is to feel useless."

"That's how I felt back in New York." Oscar reached down to ruffle Dusty's ears. "Not to the extent that you felt it, of course, but I still felt like whatever I could do, it wouldn't be enough. Not there, and then Will went off. He was actually taking action, and Anastasia let him. Hell James, even she is doing something over here. She writes me letters about all the men she visits in the hospitals, how she finds them jobs after they get out. And Will, he's off being a captain and actually fighting."

James smirked, shaking his head. "He should have been a captain long before, it's a damn shame it took a war for it to happen."

"I agree," Oscar sighed, "But James, you don't know what I'm helping with over here. It may not be much, but it's something."

"And sometimes, just being able to do something is everything." James spoke slowly, drank the rest of his brandy, and stood. "I know what you mean, Oscar. I won't drag you home in chains, no matter how happy it would make Liz."

Oscar stood himself, holding out a hand. "I won't mention the kidnapping attempt in my letters, but could you give her my love? I'll have more letters going out soon, Anastasia is a dear for letting me use her ships as mail boats."

James shook his hand, his grip firm. "Of course, and I'll leave you the dog. At least then every time you look at her, you'll remember us." His smile turned mischievous for a moment. "And you'll feel guilty for leaving us."

"I do think of all of you, quite often in fact." Oscar rolled his eyes, although a curl of doubt settled in his stomach. He hadn't thought about his family for some time, he'd been far too focused on his work and Anastasia. And now Penelope. God, he was a horrible brother and son. "I'll be sending along gifts for Liz and the baby soon, although I'm sure she's drowning in them."

James snorted, "She's been setting up the nursery and it seems like every time she gets a caller she gets yet another blanket. Or a pair of socks, or a bonnet. Our baby will be well swaddled."

"Good, they deserve everything." Oscar sighed, "I only hope when I'm back home she'll let me try and be a proper uncle to them."

James signaled to his men to head out, drawing his own coat on. "We both know Liz, she'll rage and pout and then give you the slap you deserve before she forgives you."

"I hope she hasn't given you a slap, those can be deadly."

James raised a brow as he stepped out the door, "Unlike you, I don't infuriate her."