by Kathryn Moon
"How did Auguste end up offering to cover your membership?" I asked as Ezra swept a long embroidered silk robe off a hook, floating it through the air to drape over my shoulders.
"He and the doctor stormed into the bedroom not long after we'd just gotten you up here. Magdalena told them I pulled you out, mentioned something to me about making arrangements for my membership, and then the two of them argued over the privilege of paying for it." Ezra lifted my hand to his shoulder so I could feel him shrug. "I think I might grow fond of playing the hero if everyone's going to be so cheery about it."
I laughed and used my grip to tug him closer, lifting my chin and sighing as his mouth met mine. Ezra's kiss was sweet and tender too, gentle but thorough.
"When I feel better…" I murmured, as his mouth brushed back and forth over mine.
"I'll throw you onto the nearest surface and fuck ye until you can't walk or think straight," Ezra growled, squeezing my ass briefly. "But right now, I'm a little shaken too, and just glad to see you're not quite so blue as you were when I pulled you out."
Ezra lifted me off my feet, and both Dr. Underwood and Auguste blinked at the sight of me bobbing along in midair as we entered the small extra room of the suite.
"That's one way of keeping her off her feet," Auguste murmured, lips quirking.
"Aye, but she'll wear me out at this rate, so some other lucky bastard had better take her," Ezra grumbled, returning to his crass self.
"Me," Auguste said immediately, pushing a chair back from the table. There was a large plate of food in front of him, and since he certainly wasn't eating it, he must've been planning on feeding me from his lap. He took me from Ezra's hold carefully, and Dr. Underwood lifted my leg over the arm of the chair, setting about rewrapping my ankle.
I studied the plate in front of me, piled high with thin cuts of tender, bloody meat and a dense pile of fragrant steamed greens. There was fruit too, dark cherries in juice, and crisp potatoes doused in a thick gravy, sprinkled with nuts.
"You need nutrients," Auguste said, picking up a slice of braised meat first on a fork and bringing it to my lips. "Iron especially, given my plans for our trip together," he whispered in my ear.
Iron was just a hunk of dark machinery as far as I was concerned, but Auguste had said it was in my food before, and my blood, and was important to replenishing when he wanted to drink from me. And I definitely wanted him to drink from me.
I took the meat between my teeth, humming at the richness and the salt. Jonathon and Ezra were helping themselves too—an amusing sight as food vanished when it met Ezra's mouth—and it was a scene that was somewhere between domestic and formal, neither of which I was very familiar with.
Booker joined us soon after, taking the fourth seat at the table, eyes watching me studiously as Auguste fed me. It wasn't until I had the four of them together with me, conversation thin but companionable, the late hour weighing heavier on my eyelids with every passing minute, that I realized what was missing.
Who knew how Amon would fit in with the others, a bit too possessive and proud, but he was one of the men I had chosen. One who had chosen me, and I felt his absence at the table enough to know that I would have to find a solution for us all in time.
I'd fallen asleep comfortably tucked between Auguste and Ezra, but there was only one body in the bed with me when I woke late the next morning and it wasn't either of them. Jonathon Underwood wasn't curled around me, but sitting at the foot of the bed in a simple white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His hair was mussed, eyes a little heavy as if he'd just woken up, and he had my ankle propped on his thigh, very gently moving and massaging it.
"You're very handsome, sir," I greeted, clearing the sleep from my throat as I giggled and watched his cheeks pink. "I always thought so, and I loved to spy on you when you came to the house."
"I remember," Jonathon said, lips quirking and eyes flicking in my direction. "I looked for you too, in the halls. Pain?"
He pushed my foot gently back, and my brow furrowed. "A little. Just a sore feeling."
Jonathon nodded. "Still tender. Breakfast in bed it is then. I expected as much, and Booker should be back soon with a tray for us."
He patted my calf and then stood, resting my foot down gently onto the mattress. I scrambled up as he started to back away from the bed.
"If you're joining me for breakfast, you should join me in bed too," I said, patting the sheets next to my hip and staring hopefully back at my doctor.
Jonathon paused, eyes on the spot I'd offered him, body tensing. His head ducked, and I wondered if he was hiding that green glimpse of Mr. Tanner in his gaze. He cleared his throat before he spoke again, and I was sure of it.
"I'll pull a chair up to your side," he said. "Tanner remains unsettled after the events last night, and I'm not sure he could be as careful with you as is necessary."
"But—"
Jonathon's arms crossed, his stare narrowing back at me. "Auguste and I have great plans for you in London, Ms. Reed. We need you well enough to enjoy them. Mr. Tanner knows that."
I sighed and sagged back into the pillows as Jonathon lifted the chair by the window and brought it near my bed. "I thought gentlemen were meant to be impatient for sex."
Jonathon coughed out a laugh, some of his hair falling charmingly forward into his eyes in a way that my hands itched to reach out and touch. "Don't mistake my caution for indifference, Esther," he said, words a little dark and smile crooked.
Booker entered at that moment, a vast tray full of steaming food—far more than Jonathon or I could be expected to eat on our own—as if it weighed next to nothing. He placed it on the bed between us, and then walked quickly around the posters. Jonathon and I both watched as Booker sat down at my side, facing me, and studying my face with great gravity.
"Eat," he commanded.
I laughed at the stern, flat tone of my golem, and Jonathon passed me a fork with a sausage speared on the tongs.
"Can I ask about Mr. Tanner?"
Jonathon was pouring himself a cup of tea when I asked my question, and he splashed a little before finishing the cup and then one for me. "Of course, I expected it."
"What…or who is he?"
Jonathon took a drink of his tea, eyes drifting thoughtfully around the room. "When I was little, my parents told me he was a figment of my imagination. I heard him at night or when I was angry. He remained with me long past the age where a young boy should have an imaginary friend. And he wasn't quite a friend, although we had a sort of loyalty to one another, I suppose."
Jonathon paused, and I waited, fork to my lips, until he arched an eyebrow and looked pointedly down at my plate. I took another bite, and his smile was gentle as he continued.
"His presence in my mind is what drove me to the study of medicine and the new avenues of psychology."
"Of what?" I asked, laughing.
"Psychology. It's the scientific study of the mind. Human thought and emotion. Compulsions and mood and anxieties," Jonathon rattled off. "Having another man's voice in your thoughts isn't normal, you know."
I shrugged. "My aunt had a neighbor with a son who had company in his head too. Oh! Does that mean that one day he'll—"
"He'll transform into them on occasion? No. I…I wanted a way of removing Mr. Tanner." I frowned at that, and Jonathon's eyes grew tired and weary. "His appetites were not my own. He had impulses I opposed. He was violent, and he could see the creatures in the world I would rather have ignored. I wanted to believe it was all insanity. Also, he had a manner with women I was…uncomfortable with. I thought I could rid myself of him, and I began experiments. I think I nearly destroyed myself in the process."
I set my fork down, my hands clenching in my lap, eyes wide on my gentle doctor's face. I was angry on Mr. Tanner's behalf, and I wanted to reach out and shake the man in front of me, except that he looked so weary and disappointed in himself too.
"I was seeking a way to draw Mr. Tanner out of my head, and in th
e end, I succeeded," Jonathon said, lips quirking slightly. "It was hell at first. Losing hours of my life. Finding myself in the recesses of his mind. But I learned more of him too, of the world I'd been trying to ignore and was now forced to accept as truth. And Mr. Tanner was more generous. He always retreated. He's stronger than me, he could certainly maintain control if he wanted to…
"We found our peace together eventually," Jonathon said with a heavy sigh. "And eventually, our friendship again. I had a gentleman's lens over my life, and it has been liberating to see the world in richer colors, even if it is sometimes uglier too. Pleasure was certainly a more complicated range than I expected."
I mulled over all of this in quiet, nibbling at a slice of toast with jam. I'd always been considered a little too perverse, and I'd rarely felt shame for it, but I'd been constantly reminded by others that I should have. Mr. Tanner and I were alike, but at least Dr. Underwood had learned to feel as we did.
"And when he is with me, you are…"
"An observer," Jonathon said softly, gaze hot on me as I lifted mine to his.
He'd gotten me off with his lovely vibrating machine on our night together, but Mr. Tanner had taken over as soon as we'd started fucking.
Jonathon smiled, and his head tilted. "He will give me time with you when he is ready. I'm the more patient of the pair of us, and I owe him this much."
"I wish I could have you both at once," I said absently, and then grinned at Jonathon's blush. "I mean…well, yes, like that. But that you could be equally present with me."
Jonathon grinned and set his teacup down on the tray, leaning across and sliding his fingers into my hair, pushing it back to expose my throat. "Mr. Tanner holds the reins for the most part, but perhaps he won't mind sharing someday."
I sighed as Jonathon pressed a soft, endless kiss to my pulse before pulling back.
"We'll take today easy until the sun is down and Auguste is ready to travel," Jonathon said, returning to his breakfast.
I found Booker's eyes still on me, lips downturned. "Will you miss me while I'm away, Booker?" I teased.
"Yes," he said simply, and I caught my breath, gaze held by his cool blue stare, and my heart faltered and panged. I would miss him too, I realized. It was a shame that Rooksgrave operated so that a girl might only visit with one or two of her gentlemen at a time. I was growing increasingly greedy to have them all with me at every moment.
Chapter Fifteen
A Fashionable Day In London
I woke the next morning with a sudden yanking screech of old curtains being drawn back, sunlight flooding the bed Auguste had deposited me in at some small hour of the night after we'd finally arrived in London.
I opened my eyes with a squint and found a tiny elderly woman with pretty earthy brown skin and sharp-tipped ears glaring back at me.
"Morning," she snapped, and I wasn't sure if it was meant to be a greeting or an observation.
I thought for a moment I ought to rise from the bed since she'd used the word like a command, and then decided I'd rather not. I yawned and rolled in the bed with a little wave of my hand, smirking down into delightfully soft feather pillows dressed in cream silk.
We'd taken a carriage to a train—where both Jonathon and Auguste refused to take advantage of our private compartment—to another carriage and arrived not at Jonathon's Harley Street house, but a townhouse in a fashionable arts area of London. Auguste's home.
I didn't remember much of the house, but I was surprised by how bright and open the bedroom I found myself in was. There was beautiful art framed on the walls—sensually posed women in beds of flowers—lush carpets on the floor, and dark wood furniture, but it was bright and airy too, none of the dark and gothic drama I'd grown used to at Rooksgrave.
It reminded me of some of the ladies' rooms I'd passed in and out of as a maid, and I wiggled deeper into the covers, smiling up at the high ceiling with its elaborate molding and the delicate chandelier that hung in the middle of the room. And then the covers were yanked back and I sat up with a squawk.
"What do you care if it's morning? Your employer certainly won't be up," I hissed at the woman. She wasn't human, that much had been obvious from the first glance, and I suspected she knew Auguste wasn't either.
"Morning. Eat. Doctor visit. Dresses."
"Dr. Underwood is coming to visit?" I asked. In all honesty, I hadn't noticed if he'd gotten out of the carriage with us the night before, I was too tired.
The woman, whatever she was, just huffed and waddled over to an armoire, pulling a beautiful blush pink robe out from inside and bringing it to me, kicking slippers in my direction as she came.
My ankle was firmly wrapped in a bandage, and I stood up gingerly from the bed, ignoring the slippers, relieved to find there was only a faint ache remaining in my foot.
"What's your name?" I asked as the little woman wrestled me into the robe.
"Cork."
I blinked and nodded. "Esther."
Cork snorted at that, and for a moment, our hands argued over who would tie my robe shut. Cork won, and I grunted as she yanked it closed with a knot that pinched my waist.
"Now eat," she said, marching for the bedroom doors. She threw them open with a bang, revealing a grand dressing room, with tall windows and pretty seating and art in more dark shades of floral.
I followed her with ginger steps, the rug squishing between my toes, floorboards smooth. There was a fire going in both rooms, and it was a sunny day for once in London, so the enormous rooms were comfortable. I recalled Ezra saying how expensive Rooksgraves membership was and remembered that Auguste was now paying it twice. And still, there was this house, these rooms, the lovely silk slippers that had obviously been purchased on my behalf.
"Yes, I know, eat," I said before Cork could bark it at me, but I took my time, walking a slow circuit around the room. Fresh flowers in five, no, seven places. Pretty velvet pillows and settees. Delicate crystal and gold trinkets. Tall mirrors making the room feel even bigger.
A small circular table waited for me, laden to the brim with breakfast—fresh fruits, soft boiled eggs, hearty meats, brioche buns, a pot of liquid chocolate, and creamy sauces. Cork, for all of her orders and shoves, was gentle with the beautiful Chinese teapot as she poured me a cup, and she kept her gaze averted as I had to tilt my head back and blink away an unexpected flurry of tears.
My penchant for enjoying sex didn't seem like an appropriate cause for rewards such as these.
But it isn't just sex, I reminded myself. I wasn't mercenary like Mary. Auguste had my affection and interest with or without this generosity. I would make sure he felt my gratitude regardless.
"Thank you, Cork," I said softly as she pulled back a chair for me with a sudden yank.
Once I started eating, I didn't quite know how to stop. It seemed a shame to waste anything, and every time I thought I'd had enough, I craved another sample of a particular flavor.
Jonathon found me reclined on a chaise, dipping one more bite of brioche into a cup of chocolate, my stomach already aching with how full I was. He chuckled at the sight of me, shutting the doors behind him and heading for the food.
"Auguste has forgotten what an appropriate portion looks like in his old age," Jonathon said, making himself a small plate.
"If you or Mr. Tanner are hoping for my company in bed this morning, I'm afraid you'll have to do all the work. I'm too stuffed to move," I moaned, grinning a little at the sound of the man's choke.
"Actually, I'm here to take you to an appointment."
I wiggled up into sitting at that. "Cork said something about a doctor visit and dressing."
Jonathon frowned at that, and then his eyebrows bounced up. "Ah! Not quite. I am the visit. The dresses are the appointment. I have a few things to do at my practice today, unfortunately, but the seamstress is nearby so I will drop you off there."
"But I brought dresses with me," I said, head tilted.
"Very nice ones too," Jonathon said
with a flash of a grin. "But nothing quite appropriate for our trip to the theater tonight."
I gasped and sat up, sloshing chocolate onto the saucer. I set it carefully aside before I might accidentally ruin my lovely robe from Auguste. "You're taking me to the theater? What will we see? A Wilde play?"
"You know Wilde?" Jonathon asked with a note of surprise. "I would gladly take you to see Salomé, but no, tonight we go to a kind of theater you won't see on a marquee."
I squealed with excitement, jumping up from the chaise and hurrying to the table. Jonathon watched with wide eyes as I lifted the skirt of my nightgown and robe, helping myself to his lap for a seat, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and settling with a wiggle.
"Tell me," I said, taking the toast from his fingers and bringing it to his lips. Feeding a man seemed like the sort of thing a good mistress would do, and Jonathon's eyes were wide, scanning the shape of me through the drape of silk, hands resting tentatively on my thighs. He took a bite of toast from my hand, eyes sparkling.
"I think you should be surprised," he said after some thought. "But you are welcome to try and learn answers from me—Mph." His eyes fell shut as I rolled my hips over his.
"Is it a theater for men like you and Auguste?"
"We call ourselves monsters, Miss Reed," Jonathon murmured, his mouth falling open as I shifted, bracing my good foot on a bar of the chair below.
"Well I don't," I answered, rocking a little. His head thunked back, but his fingers dug into my thighs to hold me still.
"Yes for those of our kind. Men and women," Jonathon said.
"But you can bring me?" I asked.
"There will be humans there," Jonathon said, a wicked grin on his lips and electric green in his eyes as he glanced at me. "And if you behave today, Mr. Tanner and I will have a reward for you."