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“Philip!”
Guy had said that out loud, he realised. Also, he was on his feet, staring, with one arm outstretched. Other than that, he’d kept his countenance rather well. He pulled his hand back and tried again. “Sir Philip. Uh—what—”
“Sir!” Aunt Beatrice was swelling. “What is the meaning of this intrusion? Guy Frisby, is this individual in the habit of visiting this house?”
“Never been here in my life.” Philip looked decidedly travel-worn, as crumpled as though he’d spent hours in a coach and not stopped to straighten his cravat. “Lady Paul, Miss Frisby, Mr. Frisby, sir.” He sketched a very perfunctory bow in the room’s general direction. “I come as postman.”
“What?”
“Postman. I have a letter which Miss Frisby ought to read at once.”
“You interrupt a private family gathering!” Aunt Beatrice informed him.
“What letter?” Amanda demanded.
Philip drew a paper from his pocket. “This. While you read it, I need two words with your brother. In private.”
“I cannot think you have anything to say to my nephew, sir.”
“Wrong,” Philip said. “Mr. Frisby?”
“I, uh—” Philip’s eyes were intent on his, widening slightly as Guy hesitated. Amanda put a hand to his thigh and shoved. “The situation is a little awkward. I can’t leave Mr. Dent here with Amanda.”
“Doubtless Lady Paul will chaperone.”
“Yes, but she’s just declined his very flattering proposal.”
“I should hope so. Lord Paul would surely object.”
Aunt Beatrice gave a gasp of rage; Amanda squeaked gleefully. Guy gritted his teeth. “No, Amanda declined it, and Mr. Dent is Lady Paul’s chaplain and she has put forward his suit, so you see—”
“Say no more. One moment.” Philip strode out without ceremony. Guy stared after him, suddenly terrified this was another abrupt departure and having to stop himself from crying out after him. But there was the sound of his shout outside, and a second pair of feet, and when Philip came back in, David Martelo was with him.
“Oh,” Amanda said.
“This gentleman is Miss Frisby’s physician,” Philip said. “I’m sure he has many questions of a medical nature to ask. Oh, and the letter.” He handed it over to Amanda, who didn’t even look at him as she took it. “Right. Mr. Frisby, is there somewhere we might speak?”
Guy followed him out, dreamlike, ignoring the babble of voices from the room they’d left, and took him into the dining room. Philip closed the door, and said, “Christ, you look awful.”
“I probably do, yes. It’s been—not pleasant.”
“I’m sure it has. I am sorry, Guy, extremely sorry. I was a prick of the first water, and I am going to beg your forgiveness in detail shortly, but I need to know, right now: Is Amanda inclined to David? If he proposed, would she accept?”
“Like a shot. Is—is that why you’re here?”
“It’s one reason,” Philip said, and the look in his eyes was everything that had been missing from Guy’s life. “Beloved—”
Amanda’s scream cut over his words. “Guy! Guy!”
Guy ran, flinging the door open and crashing into the parlour. He didn’t know what catastrophic scene he expected, but the room was entirely as he’d left it, except that Amanda, on the couch, was shrieking like a kettle come to the boil. “Guy!”
“What is it?”
She flapped the paper she held. “Forty pounds! Forty! Pounds! Forty!”
“What is?”
“My publisher! They want my next book! They’ll pay me forty—” Her voice rose so high that it ceased to be audible.
“Book?” Aunt Beatrice demanded.
“Amanda’s an author. It’s not under her name, don’t worry. Forty? Manda—”
“Don’t, for heaven’s sake, accept it,” Philip said. “It’s the first one we got in writing, but Theo—Mrs. Swann, the Gothic novelist, he’s a crony of John Raven’s—says you can use this to get a better offer elsewhere, and then use that to force this up. He advises you to try for sixty at least.”
“Sixty pounds?” Amanda said at a pitch that threatened the glassware.
“It’s a success,” David told her. “A truly magnificent one. You’ve done superbly.”
“Everyone’s reading it,” Philip agreed. “Apparently a certain nobleman considers himself to be portrayed, unflatteringly, in your villain, and his very public discontent has attracted a great deal of attention Darkdown’s way.”
“Oh, God bless him,” Guy said.
Aunt Beatrice looked positively ill. “You cannot— Another scandal— I will not permit it. I won’t!”
“But it is not up to you to permit, and you can’t stop me.” Amanda’s tone was soft, but it was not gentle in the slightest. “You washed your hands of me, Aunt Beatrice, if you recall. I don’t need your permission for anything at all, ever again.”
“On that subject,” Philip said. “Excuse the haste, but I have business of my own to conduct. I introduced Dr. Martelo here as Miss Frisby’s physician, in which capacity I engaged and paid him. Yes? Good. David, you’re dismissed. Without notice, or a character, come to that. The point I am making is that you are no longer her doctor.”
“Thank you, Philip.” David was watching Amanda’s face. “Miss Frisby—Amanda— Could I possibly have private speech with you?”
“No, sir, you may not,” Aunt Beatrice said.
Amanda shot her a glare. “Of course you can.”
“Amanda Frisby! I shall not move from this room.”
“Oh, this stupid leg,” Amanda said. “Guy, help me up.”
“No, don’t move,” David said. He looked around at the spectators, exhaled in an ‘oh well’ sort of way, and went down to his knees in front of the couch. Guy squeaked. Amanda yelped.
“Amanda,” David said, ignoring the audience with impressive focus. “I couldn’t express myself before but I venture to hope that you understood, that you could tell—”
“Yes,” Amanda said urgently.
“Er, good. But now I am free to speak, and I must tell you how ardently—”
“No, yes,” Amanda cut in. “Yes, David. Of course I’ll marry you.”
He blinked. “Really?”
She reached for his hands. David grabbed hers. Guy put his own hand to his mouth, fighting back tears, and felt Philip squeeze his shoulder. Aunt Beatrice was wide-eyed and decidedly pink. She wouldn’t like the rejection of her own plans but to have Amanda safely married must surely satisfy her, Guy thought.
“The only thing—no, please let me finish a sentence, darling, I had an entire speech planned,” David said. “The only thing is, there’s something we must discuss first.”
“You’ll want me to convert,” Amanda agreed. “I don’t know anything about it, so you’ll have to explain, but I’m perfectly happy to, in principle.”
Guy had forgotten that part. He winced as Aunt Beatrice almost shrieked, “Convert?”
“David is Jewish,” Amanda told her. “Will I have to study an awful lot?”
“You’ll have to take instruction.” David looked stunned. Amanda could have that effect when she’d made up her mind about things. “If you’re sure you still want to, once we’ve talked properly about what it means for you. Which we are going to do first,” he added, with decision. Guy wished him luck.
Aunt Beatrice slumped back in her chair. “This is too much. I will not countenance it. Guy Frisby, as a Christian—”
“I will see my sister loved and happy,” Guy completed. “And I’ll be honoured to welcome David to the family.”
“Not to mine. I will speak to Lord Paul. I will cut you off. You will be as dead to us all.”
Amanda shrugged. It was a small movement, but lethally clear. Aunt Beatrice’s face darkened worryingly. “You insolent baggage!”
“Lady Paul,” Mr. Dent said. “I beg you to compose yourself. A straying sheep is better brought back to the path with charity than with anger.”
“I’m not a sheep,” Amanda said. “And I have had enough of Aunt Beatrice’s charity for a lifetime.”
“That’s not quite fair, Manda,” Guy said. It wasn’t unfair either, but he didn’t want Amanda to say anything she’d regret when her temper cooled, and he did not like the way his aunt looked. “Aunt Beatrice saved our home and gave us the means to live in it, and we must not forget how—” Kind stuck in his throat. “How generous she has been. Aunt Beatrice, I’m sorry we’ve been such a trial to you, but I can’t let you insult my sister, so I think you should go home. I hope we can part on civilised terms, and you are very welcome to renounce us in public if that helps Anne. We won’t force ourselves on your notice again until you’re willing to accept Amanda and her husband.”
Aunt Beatrice’s mouth opened, fishlike. Guy turned to the chaplain. “Mr. Dent, I am sorry you’ve been caught up in this. Thank you for your consideration to my sister. I hope you find a new, er, helpmeet very soon. I really don’t think Amanda and you would have suited.”
“No,” Mr. Dent said. He sounded funereally calm still but his cheekbones were burning red. “I cannot disagree. Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Frisby. I believe I would be best to take my leave.”
“We shall both leave,” Aunt Beatrice panted. “Instruct my woman to pack.”
David was looking at her. “Lady Paul, I do not like your colour. No, don’t attempt to rise. Speaking as a physician—”
Guy felt a tug on his sleeve. “Our cue to exit,” Philip murmured. “Come on.”
***
GUY LED THE WAY INTO the garden. It was mostly taken up by vegetables, and entirely overlooked by the back of the house. They stopped in the middle of two beds, beans climbing up stakes on one side, the dark green leaves of a healthy potato crop rising on the other. Philip glanced around. “Is there anywhere private we could speak? An outbuilding?”
“Only a lean-to full of sacks and spades.”
“Could we fit in there? If you wouldn’t mind the squeeze.”
“I wouldn’t mind that at all, but it’s really not—”
“No. Well then.” Philip pushed a hand through his hair. Guy didn’t think he’d ever seen him look like this: tired, messy, uncertain. “Beloved, I am so sorry. Of all the damn fool ways to leave you, when you were caught in the devil’s own trap and I knew it. You needed me and I failed you, and I really will try not to be such a damned swine again. Without attempting to excuse myself, I will only say that to see you leaving me was more painful than I had thought possible. When you’re afraid, you hide, but when I’m afraid, I hit out, and that is precisely what I did then. Corvin assures me I am utterly intolerable when in love.”
Guy tried a smile. It wobbled a little. “He’s wrong.”
“Yes, well, you tell him that,” Philip said. “He and John have taken turns shouting at me for four solid days. The words ‘best thing that ever happened to you’ have only been exceeded in use by ‘stupid prick’.”
“They said that?”
“Repeatedly. They have both taken up the Frisby cause, you understand. Corvin’s performance at Vauxhall Gardens was spectacular even by his standards: if anyone in London doesn’t know he’s Lord Darkdown by now, it’s not his fault. And John and his scribbler friend joined forces against London’s publishing trade, which might almost make one sorry for publishers.”
Guy put his hand to his mouth, needing to hide his expression. To feel as though Corvin and John cared for him and not just for Philip, as though they might be his friends too... He had to swallow to speak. “That’s quite extraordinarily kind of them both. More than kind. I can’t honestly tell you what that meant, to hear about the money then. We’d just been given the choice, you see, to have Aunt Beatrice call in the mortgage, or for Amanda to marry Mr. Dent.”
Philip’s brows snapped together. “That cadaverous piece of work? He was happy to take a wife on such terms, was he?”
“I don’t know about happy. He’s Aunt Beatrice’s chaplain and she promised him an excellent living to do it. I can’t imagine he enjoys his current position, and Aunt Beatrice would doubtless not have been pleasant if he’d refused the idea. I don’t think it was fair of her, either to him or to Amanda.”
“It was most certainly not. You were more generous than I would have been.”
Guy could well believe that. Philip was close enough that Guy could see the tension in his stance. He wished they could touch, that he was in Philip’s arms and not standing and chatting in a garden as though they were mere acquaintances. “She did her best for us, by her lights. She wasn’t kind, and she was wrong about a lot of things, but we have given her a great deal to put up with, and it must be dreadful to be always so utterly consumed by what other people might think. Well, it is. I know it is because that’s how I spent my life feeling, as though everyone was talking about me and I could only stop it if I hid. Because you’re right. I do hide when I’m afraid, and I’m always afraid. I hid in this house, and behind a row of books, and under a lot of convention, and even in a disguise of having to look after Amanda, because while I had to look after her, I couldn’t possibly do anything else. I think I’d have spent my whole life hiding if I hadn’t met you.”
“That would have been a criminal waste,” Philip said. “Oh, curse it. Given a bit of privacy I would go to my knees, in the unexpected but effective manner David adopted. Since I can’t, could you please imagine that I have?”
“Er—”
“Guy, beloved, you delight me. You’re strong and kind-hearted and true as steel; you are open to knowledge and pleasure and human foibles in a way that makes me frankly embarrassed for my own limitations. I missed you painfully, I love you immoderately, and I don’t want to be without you, if you can possibly tolerate the nonsense that being with me will entail.”
Guy clenched his fists tight, in the hope it would help him stay upright, and still, and not hurl himself into Philip’s embrace. “I, uh—Philip, that’s— Were you both writing speeches in the coach here?”
“If we were, I did better than David,” Philip said. “At least my Frisby lets a man get a word in edgewise. Is that all you have to say?”
“No, of course not. Philip, you know I love you, but what do you mean, to be with you?”
“From a worldly perspective, I thought you might consider a position with me. Secretary, man of business, whatever you’d like to call it. A real position with a salary, because I don’t want you dependent on anyone’s whim again, least of all mine, and the chance to put your undoubted talents to good use.
“But you’ve got a man of business,” Guy said. “You’ve got Mr. Lovett.”
“Lovett thinks I’m a lunatic and can’t persuade the men otherwise. I need someone with the patience and understanding to sit down and persuade a pack of labourers to put their backs into sugar beet, when I would throw my hands up and walk out after five minutes. Someone with the capacity to see other points of view, which I have never made any great effort to develop, and from which my affairs would benefit. If I’d paid more attention to that, I shouldn’t have walked out on you, an act for which I have spent the last days kicking myself in the intervals Corvin and John weren’t kicking me. And I have learned damn all, I may add, because merely listening to that conversation just now, I wanted to leave that room a pile of smouldering wreckage. Whereas you didn’t, despite far greater provocation. You thought; you were kind; you at least made a reconciliation possible in the future.”
Guy was blushing again, he could feel it. “That’s nothing. I don’t like arguments.”
“I know you don’t. But you stood your ground, you did not let either fear or anger drive you, and you were marvellous. With you at my side, my life would be not just immeasurably improved but more intelligently conducted. And now it sounds all this is a sensible business proposal, and perhaps it is, but what I’m actually trying to offer is a way for us to be together. For you to leave here and come with me, no more hiding. There is a world outside.”
“You don’t think people might guess?” Guy asked, almost a whisper.
“Some might speculate. I could very easily arrange the appearance of a passionate affair with a lady, if you like. And I am not known as a diligent manager of my own affairs. It is entirely within character for me to take a secretary.”
“But me, though? After Sir James and my mother, and if everyone thinks the worst about you and Amanda—”
“Amanda will marry her doctor and disappear from Society’s notice. Your position will demonstrate to anyone reasonable that there was nothing in that rumour, and that I am making amends for past sins. Plenty of people won’t be reasonable, needless to say, Lord and Lady Paul will doubtless be livid, and I am already notorious. I can’t prevent any of that, so the question is whether you are prepared to accept a certain amount of unwanted attention or ill-natured gossip as the price of us. I don’t say that lightly, my love. I know you loathe it, and that you don’t want to distress your aunt even if you are prepared to defy her. I will do what I can to shield you, but in the end, there will be a price, and it is your choice if you think it’s worth paying.”
Philip’s voice was controlled but the tension was visible in his eyes and fisted hands. Guy was almost glad for the foot or so separating them, the invisible barrier of observation that meant they couldn’t touch. He wouldn’t have stood a chance of making this decision sensibly in Philip’s arms. He wasn’t sure he was making it sensibly now, but at least he wasn’t trying to think through a blizzard of desire and sensation.
“Right,” he said. “About Corvin and, uh, John—”
“They want my happiness, and that depends on you.”
“I want your happiness too,” Guy said. “I know perfectly well you wouldn’t be happy without them in your life. And they loved you first. I’d never try to take that away from you. I’m not sure what it all means and we’ll doubtless need to talk about things, but I don’t feel as though you love me any the less because of them. And if they don’t feel that about me, then I dare say we’ll all get on.”
Philip shut his eyes, something in his face relaxing. “Thank you, beloved. Thank you.”
“Am I still imagining you kneeling down?”
“I could very well be kneeling.”
“Could we imagine that you stood up and kissed me?”
“Thoroughly,” Philip said, “and passionately, with one hand on your wonderful arse and the other in your hair, bending you backwards and ravishing your mouth until you have no choice at all but to say, ‘Yes please, Philip’. I hope.”
“I love you,” Guy said again. “And I have no idea if I’ll be a good man of business or what-have-you but I do want to be one—really, I mean, and do it properly. And I dare say I can learn not to mind being talked about, if you don’t mind trying to be talked about a bit less. I know you can’t help the reputation you’ve already got, but I don’t want to end up a Gothic villain in someone’s book.”
“I am quite sure you’d be the hero, but that is entirely reasonable,” Philip said. “I could very well become at least as well known for sugar beet as blasphemy. I can’t do anything about Corvin, though.”
“Can anyone?”
“Not so far. I don’t wish to press you in the slightest, but I should like to point out that I asked you a question in a formal sort of way and you haven’t given me an answer, and I’m not so arrogant as to assume your response. So if you happened to have one to give—”
“Yes,” Guy said. “Yes, please, Philip. I’d love to be with you. And I’d like you to imagine I’m kissing you back as hard as you’ve ever kissed me.”
“I truly am. Good. Good. Might I get back on my imaginary knees? I have work to do there.”
They were simply standing in a vegetable garden, not even touching, looking at one another, and Guy could feel Philip’s touch all over his skin. He licked his lips and saw Philip’s eyes track the movement. “I think you might have to save that for later. If Aunt Beatrice starts shouting for me, I’d like to be able to walk.”
“A fair point, albeit one that reminds me we have unfinished business. Never have I resented an interruption so much.”
“Oh God, I could have cried. Are you staying at the Hall tonight?”
“I had the place closed up in a fit of childishness. I don’t suppose we could stay here? Assuming Amanda—”
“She knows about us.”
“That, yes, good, but there is the matter of my presence in the Frisby house. I’ll take myself off if either of you is concerned.”
“I don’t see there should be a problem, with her brother and her fiancé present,” Guy said. “But for heaven’s sake make sure Aunt Beatrice doesn’t find out you’ll be staying. I don’t want her death on my conscience.”
***
AUNT BEATRICE SEEMED significantly less close to expiry when they returned to the house, walking shoulder to shoulder, not touching except in their imagination. The place was a chaos of packing, and Guy retreated to sit with Amanda in the parlour while Philip went to have a word with David and check the disposition of his horses.
“David read her a lecture,” Amanda whispered, wide-eyed. “He said she clearly indulges both her appetite and her temper beyond what her constitution can support, and that she needs to take a great deal more care, and have more taken of her. He said she must cease to assume responsibility for others until she has first attended to herself, and that her family must consider her health far better, and he wrote her out a diet to follow and the name of a physician in London who would be strict with her and ordered her to summon him. I honestly thought she might cry.”
“I think I might have. She let him say all that?”
“Guy, she was thrilled. Well, she said he was talking impertinent nonsense, but honestly, I don’t think anyone’s ever told her she ought to be cared for, or treated her like she needs help. One doesn’t really think of her that way.”
“No. I’m sure Lord Paul doesn’t.”
“Maybe we should have. Mr. Dent was taking notes, if you ask me. Do you know, I think once she’s got over not having her way, she might not be so very angry.”
“Well, I’d rather she didn’t hate us, but we’ll be all right even if she does. You’re a success. I am so proud of you, Manda.”
“It’s such a relief,” Amanda said. “Having people like my book, but also knowing I won’t be quite penniless for David. Thirty pounds, if I get it, isn’t a huge portion, but it’s better than nothing, and I can write more books.”
“Sixty pounds.”
“Thirty. Of course it’s halves and don’t argue with me, I’m too happy. Where was I? Writing books. I did ask if David was expecting me to act as a nurse as well, and he said no, he’d rather have someone who knew what she was doing, so that’s all right.”
“Probably for the best,” Guy agreed.
“But what about you?” Amanda asked. “You aren’t going to stay here, are you?”
“I, uh, I’m going with Philip. He’s offered me a sort of post as his secretary, for—for the look of things, but—yes. So you can keep your bridal portion, and I might even be able to afford a wedding present.”
“Oh, Guy. Are you happy?”
“So much it hurts. You?”
“If it wasn’t for my stupid leg, I’d be dancing. Ugh. Being trapped on this couch all splinted up while that ghastly man insisted he’d talk to me—really, you have no idea what a miserable thing this is.”
“But if you hadn’t broken your leg we’d never have gone to the Hall. And if we hadn’t—”
“Oh, don’t,” Amanda said with a shudder. “Just imagine, we might have sat here with everything we wanted four miles away, and never known.”
“I think a broken leg is a small price to pay,” Guy said sententiously, gave it a second, then added, “So long as it’s yours.”
Amanda hit him. “Idiot. But you’re right. It is all thanks to this stupid leg, and I won’t ever complain about the scar, or if I limp, or at least I’ll try not to. But I am so tired of the splints. Honestly, Guy, have you any idea how it feels to see the most wonderful man in the world walk in, and not be able to throw yourself into his arms?”
“Yes.”
“Oh,” Amanda said, face stilling. “Yes. Yes, of course you do. Oh, Guy.”
Guy nudged her. “I nearly did anyway. That would have put the cat among the pigeons.”
“Wouldn’t it. My goodness. Except you nearly didn’t, because Philip is only the second most wonderful man in the world. David is the most wonderful.”
“He isn’t, you know. He’s marvellous, I couldn’t be happier for you, but Philip—”
“David. The most wonderful. That’s all.”
“Is not.”
“Is so.”
“You’re going to have to be a great deal more grown up when you’re a doctor’s wife, you know.”
“Shan’t,” Amanda said, and they both collapsed in giggles.
It was an intolerably lengthy time before Aunt Beatrice and her chaplain departed, with sighs and head-shaking but less high dudgeon than Guy had expected. Mrs. Harbottle was told of Amanda’s engagement, which she received with rapture, and of Philip’s intention to stay the night, which went down significantly less well. And then, finally, they were alone. The four of them ate a hastily constructed dinner, and separated without discussion into pairs. Amanda and her fiancé had the parlour, naturally.
“We could sit in the dining room, or go into the garden,” Guy suggested.
“Or we could go upstairs.”
“Let’s do that.”
Guy had what had once been their parents’ bedroom. He’d considered replacing the large bed, which took up too much space, several times, but never thought it worth the cost, for which he was now grateful.
Philip closed the door. “Alone at last, as the Gothic novels say. Come here.”
Guy stepped into his arms. He was rather expecting the sort of overwhelming embraces that Philip had promised in the garden, but instead Philip cupped his face, not moving to kiss him, running his thumbs along Guy’s jawline, eyes searching.
“My love,” he said quietly. “You do look tired, and I put some of that there.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Guy said. “Or, not entirely. I had to put Amanda first, but really, I ought to have faced up to Aunt Beatrice years ago. You were angry because I was in an intolerable situation, but I had allowed myself to be in it.”
“We all build our own prison walls,” Philip said. “Not all of us have the courage to dismantle them, even if we have the chance.”
He did kiss Guy then, leaning forward, bringing their mouths together. Long and slow, reacquainting themselves, sealing a bargain, kissing without thought of more because the closeness was what mattered, until Philip grunted and slipped his hands down to Guy’s arse, after which thought of more became rapidly pressing.
“God, I’ve missed you,” Philip mumbled against his mouth. “It was lucky we were so damned busy over the last days, or I shouldn’t have slept. Let me make it up to you in tangible form. How may I please you, my virgin?”
“I’m quite sure I’m not virginal any more.”
“Not in the strict sense of the word, perhaps, but there is a delightful purity about you even when I’m debauching you in the worst ways. Especially then, in fact. And I do like debauching you, and I should hate to stop.”
“So should I.”
Philip brought up a hand to stroke his face. “Tell me what you thought of when you missed me and your hand strayed to your prick for comfort.”
“Oh God. You really do want to ruin me, don’t you?”
“Utterly.”
“When you told me about how you, you were with John and Corvin together,” Guy whispered. “And you held me, and fucked me, and talked to me, until I felt as though there was nothing in the world except your voice and your hands and you. Tell me another story like that.”
“I taught you language, and my profit on’t is, you will soon be bringing me off by words alone,” Philip said. “My God, I want you.”
They stripped each other with reasonable finesse under the circumstances, and fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs that resolved into Guy on his side, cradled by one of Philip’s arms, a thumb teasing at his lips, the other hand wrapped around his stand, and Philip’s own hard length fitted close between his thighs. It felt like more of a possession than anything else they’d done, as though Philip owned every part of him, held it dear, and wouldn’t let him go.
He kissed the thumb at his mouth. “I love you.”
Philip stroked his lip, and kissed his ear, sending shudders down Guy’s skin. “It’s odd,” he said thoughtfully. “I am well aware I should treat such a precious gift as you with the greatest delicacy and respect, but what I’m actually going to do is torment you in the most carnal and degenerate ways I can think of until you’re writhing to spend in my hand. A story, you said. Suppose I tell you how I occupied a very long and lonely night thinking of you, and the depths of depravity to which my imagination descended in that time. It has several acts, and a cast list.”
Guy swallowed. “That sounds, uh. Yes. Does it have a happy ending?”
“Of course it does, beloved,” Philip said. “And always will where I am involved. I promise you that.”