by Megan Derr
Maitland's eyes were hot and bright. "That is a wager I will take."
Runaways
Addison sighed as he read the letter over again, even though he had all the important bits memorized. He'd known what the letter would say even before he'd opened it. Obtain an earl indeed. He'd be amused, but the tacit 'or don't bother coming home' rather depressed any good humor he had not yet lost.
How did he get himself into these situations?
Even if he pretended for a moment that a lord or even a wealthy merchant would want him, there was no way he could ever dare to seek one out with the hope of a match. It was generous of his uncle to have been willing to pay for him to join them in the city, as a companion to his cousin—but he knew full well they'd only done so because Addison stood no chance whatsoever of outshining his handsome, outgoing cousin.
What was he to do? If he came all this way and simply went back, nothing gained, his family would be furious. They expected him to make a good match, and bring the new wealth home.
Yet if he dared to do anything but cater to every whim of his cousin, his uncle would send him home with ears ringing from a sound boxing. There was no possible way his uncle would tolerate Addison succeeding where Blaine, despite his many charms, was still failing.
Once he stopped pretending that anyone would want him, the matter went from hopeless to nigh on pathetic.
Really, all he'd wanted was a chance to see the parts of the city that did not include ballrooms and tea parties. Once his uncle was finished with him, Addison would never have another chance. He would be returned home to his life at the post office, and the opportunities to see museums and parks and famous historic sites would be lost forever.
He kicked idly at the stone path which wended its way through the park. It was nothing but small footpaths here, well away from the main thoroughfare where everyone walked to show off and make fun of those not quite up to par.
Addison was sick of it. Sick of the parties. Sick of watching his cousin charm and cozen every available person in his vicinity. Sick of being the ugly, unfortunate cousin on whom his uncle had been considerate enough to take pity.
Maybe Blaine would stay sick another couple of days, and Addison would be able to sneak about doing as he pleased. But he suspected he was lucky to have gotten this one day. How to spend it though…
Breakfast, definitely. Then perhaps a bookstore or two, or maybe he'd just go straight on to the museums, the royal library…
The sound of boots scuffing on stone drew his attention, and he looked up just in time to see someone come through the hedges.
Before Addison could so much as nod in greeting, the man dropped down next to him on the bench, murmured, "I apologize for my forwardness," and kissed him.
Addison made a choked, muffled noise, and tried to pull away, but long fingers sank into his hair, curling along the back of his head, keeping him perfectly angled as his mouth was plundered by a perfect stranger.
"Well, I never!" said a sharp, ringing voice.
Startled, Addison again tried to pull away, but the man kissing him was having none of that.
Not really certain what else to do, Addison went along with it, hoping that if he was agreeable long enough eventually the man would unhand him.
Despite his reluctance in the venture, going along with it was far from a terrible ideal. It seemed to be a good kiss, at any rate, though Addison had no previous kisses to which he could compare it.
The mouth moving with his was warm and soft, and tasted of cinnamon and coffee. Addison flushed to realize he was noticing how a man tasted, but it was becoming more and more difficult to pull away—and when precisely had he tangled his fingers in the front of the man's jacket?
"Honestly, Jewell!"
Finally tearing away, the man—Jewell—smiled ever so fleetingly at Addison, then turned toward the woman yelling at them. "What, Tina?"
The mysterious Tina, well turned out in a bright red walking dress, matching feathers bobbing from a pert hat, had white-gloved hands planted on her ample hips. Blue eyes were narrowed at Jewell, her pretty mouth pinched, cheeks pink with anger. "I cannot believe you."
"Yes, you have said that several times this morning alone," Jewell said, sliding the hand in Addison's hair down his back, to curl lightly around his waist.
Addison wondered if it might not be time to make a discreet departure, but the hand resting lightly on his hip squeezed when he shifted.
"I cannot believe—and in the park! Right where anyone can see! You and this—this—this strumpet!"
Though he preferred not to get himself mired in altercations, Addison was only willing to endure so much. "I beg your pardon, but I am not a strumpet."
"Anyone who would behave so crassly—"
"You shut it," Jewell snapped, standing up after another squeeze. "If you want to pick a fight with me and call me names, Tina, you go ahead. Do not, however, speak so rudely to strangers. The only thing that has you angry here is that you are not the one on the bench exchanging kisses with some handsome fellow. Go harangue someone else and stop making him think we are both quite mad."
"Too late," Addison muttered before he caught himself. He flushed, mortified at falling into behaving rudely—and flushed all the darker when Jewell turned and flashed him a quick, bright smile.
Tina's hands dropped from her hips to ball into little fists. "You! We are to be married—"
"No, we are most certainly not," Jewell snarled. "I do not give a buggering fuck what your mother and my father are plotting, I am not marrying you. One of us would murder the other in less than a day just attempting to plan the damned wedding. Go. Away."
For a moment, Addison really thought Tina was going to launch herself at Jewell and beat him to death with the reticule he only then saw she was clutching in one hand. But she only lobbed a few more choice words before turning sharply on the heel of her smart white boot, and marched off as crisply as any well-trained soldier.
Jewell let out a long sigh and sat back down on the bench, raking hands through his mass of tight gold curls. Then he turned to Addison and smiled sheepishly. "I am so very sorry you were dragged into all that. I did not think she would linger, seeing me kissing you. My apologies also for such forwardness, good sir. I would never usually kiss without permission, and I am ashamed to say I succumbed to panic. You shall have to let me thank you for being so unbelievably tolerant." His smiled widened. "Though I understand if you want nothing more than to part ways and neither see nor hear me again."
"Um—" Addison tried to figure out what to say, but he was not even certain where to put his thoughts, never mind organize them sufficiently to put thoughts into words. "What's going on?"
Laughing, Jewell raked a hand through his hair again and said, "An explanation seems more than fair. If you're willing, how about over breakfast? I know a wonderful coffeehouse not too far from here. It seems the least I can do, and I promise not to take further liberties without express permission." He smiled in sheepish apology.
"No harm done," Addison replied, wondering wistfully what it might be like to have Jewell kiss him because he wanted, not because he was desperate.
"Splendid!" Jewell said, and rose, dragging Addison up with him. Only then did Addison realized he'd somehow accepted the offer of breakfast. "Oh! My name is Jewell Kelley. It is an honor to make the acquaintance of a saint, which you must be, not to have bloodied my nose over my behavior."
Addison's mouth twitched, amused despite himself—then he realized Jewell was waiting patiently for his reply. "Oh—uh. My name is Addison Dewhurst. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir. Uh, my lord?" Of a sudden, he felt as shy and anxious and lost as ever, if not more so. Please, dear gods, please don't let him have just failed to recognize some earl or marquis or duke, oh that would be his luck.
Jewell laughed. "I think under the circumstances, my dear, you might as well just use my given name. May I call you Addison? There, then, that is my manners for the day
, my mother would be so proud." He laughed again.
His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he had a pretty mouth, and Addison really wished he had not noticed either of those things. Or that Jewell's eyes were the most beautiful shade of brown, dark gold with lighter shades of honey and a deep, almost red color at the center.
"Now, the coffee house is just this way, and I shall attempt to convince you I am not entirely mad—merely half."
Too overwhelmed and curious to even think of refusing, Addison went along as Jewell all but dragged him away from the park and down the street.
The coffee house they went to was not one of the many he had eyed before, but at just a glance it seemed infinitely better. It was small, warm, and cozy—and practically deserted given the early hour.
"Now, then," Jewell said after they had settled in. "I will apologize again for my behavior, as well as Tina's. Her parents and mine are all old friends, and they have it in their heads that we are meant to be together, unite the families, so on and so forth. Tina has decided it would suit her purposes to go along with their plotting, because she likes the idea of gaining a great deal more with very little effort, and is wholly ignoring the fact we can't stand each other." He grimaced.
"I see," Addison said, though the only thing he really saw was that he probably was sitting with some powerful noble in a coffee house and his uncle was going to kill him.
"She follows me everywhere, like some hound and me the poor fox," Jewell went on. "I didn't think she'd be up this early but not a quarter mile from my house I caught sight of her following me. I panicked and made for the park, since none of my clubs was close, and you know the rest." He winked.
Addison flushed and stared at his coffee. "It certainly enlivened my morning."
Jewell laughed softly, so gently that Addison found himself looking up and smiling shyly back.
"So what did I interrupt you doing, when I came upon you? You looked as though you were reading a letter or something."
"My letter!" Addison exclaimed, only then realizing he'd left it in the park.
"Should we go back for it?" Jewell asked, and made to stand.
"No-no, it's fine. Only a letter from my mother," Addison replied, not quite able to stifle a sigh as he recalled the contents of the letter.
"Ah, parents," Jewell said. "Mine want me to marry a demon. What do yours want? A prince? A duke?"
Addison flushed, humiliated that he was so easily pegged. "They said an earl would do nicely; I think they would die from shock if I managed to attract a duke. I think they'd die of shock if I caught anyone. I would," he added morosely—then winced as he realized he'd said that aloud. "Um—but I don't want anyone. I'm here for my cousin. To help him, I mean. " He shut his mouth before anything else fell out of it and made a bigger fool of him. But he opened it again briefly to add a belated, "Sorry."
"Not at all," Jewell said warmly. "Sent to catch a big fish in the city, then?"
"Yes, and I'm quite terrible at it."
Jewell smiled. "You're too nice to be a city-bred spouse hunter. Any one of them would have used that kiss I stole to finagle an invitation to something, at the very least. Anyway, no good spouse hunter to the city finds that remote corner of the park unless he is attempting to avoid the city."
Addison could only cringe back in his seat, and hang his head in humiliation, staring at his coffee and wishing he were anywhere else.
Then a warm, gloved hand covered one of his, and Jewell asked with what seemed to Addison a shocking amount of kindness, "So why are you here to catch a spouse, my friend, when you obviously want nothing of the sort? A cousin, you said?"
Friend. That sounded nice. He had none of those here, and no real close ones back home. Even if it wasn't true, and Jewell was just being nice—
"You look like you want to talk," Jewell said. "You can talk to me." He smiled gently when Addison slowly looked up. "If I do or say anything untoward, you can tell my parents how wretched I've been to you." He made a face. "If Tina has not already ratted me out."
Addison laughed briefly at the put out expression on his face—and then the words came tumbling out: being stuck with his cousin, his odious uncle, his too-eager parents wanting a match, his uncle sure to beat him if he stole any prospects and dared make a match before his cousin.
When he finally ran out of words, he realized he felt a lot better. "Sor—"
"Do not be sorry," Jewell cut in before he could finish the apology. "You've no reason to be. I will say my life seems a good deal more tolerable, of a sudden. I don't suppose you're interested in marrying Tina? No? Ah, well." He grinned. "Parents and spouse-hunting: two of life's greatest trials."
Addison smiled faintly, and finally managed to take a proper sip of coffee. He set his coffee down again after a moment and tried to think of something to say, but he had never been much good at polite conversation.
"So what else are you doing today?" Jewell asked. "How long have you been in the city? Have you gotten to see any of it, or has it all been drawing rooms and dance floors?"
Though Addison said nothing, by the way Jewell snickered his expression must have said it all. "I should be attending all those wretched affairs myself," Jewell said, "but a fox does not elude the hounds by going into the kennels, eh?"
Addison laughed.
Looking decidedly pleased with himself, Jewell continued, "Anyway. Have you plans for the day? I've none myself, past 'avoid hounds' if you'd like a proper tour. I've lived here all my life; no one knows the city better, I promise. Anything you've been hoping to see? The Gardens? The playhouses?"
"Umm—the museums, actually," Addison said, brightening a bit as he thought of them, even as he braced for the inevitable sneering and dismissing.
But Jewell only continued to smile. "They've just added a goblin exhibit at the Farther Museum. It's not even public yet. I was going to go see it sometime this week. Hang on, then." Before Addison could utter so much as a syllable, he'd stood and darted off to speak with a man who had the look of an owner about him, and who brought Jewell pen, paper, and wax.
Several minutes and what looked like at least three letters later, Jewell finally returned to the table. "All set then?"
"Um—yes?" Addison said, and cried out in surprise as Jewell then all but pulled him from his seat. He stumbled from the abrupt movement, bumping into Jewell, who reached out hands to steady him. "Sorry."
Jewell only smiled, and slowly drew back the hands he'd extended to steady Addison. "Not at all."
"You don't have to take me to museums," Addison said. "Really."
"Mm," Jewell said, as they stepped outside. He settled Addison's arm in his own and only beamed, and Addison had the sudden thought that Jewell got himself into a great many scrapes, and that smile probably got him out of them. "But I want to. It's never any fun going to such places alone, which I all too often do, you know?"
What could Addison do, but agree? It was true. "Yes," he said quietly. "I know."
"Then off we go," Jewell said. "So where are you from?"
"Uh—Whitson," Addison replied. "My family runs the local post office there."
"I bet that's loads more interesting than what I do all day," Jewell said with a sigh. "Attend this meeting, go to that dinner party, make an appearance at this ball, take a spin about the park, and bloody on it goes. It's to the point I can't do anything I want, unless I'm dragging along some designated individual who never actually wants to do what I want and we wind up doing something I detest and what's the fun of being made to spend time with someone, I ask you, especially when it's only to benefit still other people and you don't matter at all." He finally drew a breath, letting it out in an aggravated sigh Addison understood all too well. "You're the only person I've chosen in longer than I care to think upon."
"I only have to put up with my cousin, for the most part. I cannot imagine being made to put up with a lot of different people all the time."
Jewell made a face, and raked a hand through
his hair. He mustered a smile. "My turn to apologize."
"We seem to be taking turns," Addison said, smiling back.
Jewell laughed. "We do. How about we just leave off altogether?"
"All right."
"Splendid. Here's the museum, come on."
Addison frowned, confused. "But it's not open."
Jewell winked, then simply pushed the door open and slipped inside, pulling Addison with him. Inside, Addison hardly dared to move or even breathe; the silence was even deeper than he was accustomed to in museums. "Um—" He cringed at the sound of his voice, quiet though he'd made it. "Are we allowed in here?"
"Of course," Jewell replied, his voice as clear and strident as ever. "I'm allowed access whenever I like. They're used to me."
"Oh," Addison said in a small voice. What sort of person had free rein in a museum? If he had just told an earl's son, or heaven forbid a duke's son, about his parents hoping he would catch an earl, he was going to throw himself in front of the first speeding carriage he saw.
He jumped as his nose was pinched. "Now, now," Jewell said with a smile. "You are meant to be enjoying yourself, not looking as gloomy as you did in the park. Smile or I shall have to resort to desperate measures and kiss you again."
Addison flushed hot, and he was entirely too embarrassed and stupidly hopeful and crushed all at once, to manage a proper smile.
That word again. Desperate. He wished he knew how to convince Jewell to give him a kiss not inspired by some form of desperation. But even as he looked at Jewell for some clue as to how to do that, Jewell's eyes seemed to spark and he took a step forward—
"There you are," a bright voice said.
Jewell looked briefly disappointed, but then his face smoothed into a cheerful smile as he turned. "Jorge. Thank you for accommodating us."
"Of course, of course, anything for you, my boy. How interesting, you've never brought a guest along before. Come, come, tell me who this handsome fellow is, then."