I’d left the highland mansion furious, disappointed, and empty-handed to then find the damnable weather had brought the whole British Railway system to a grinding halt and I was unable to journey back to London.
I took a room at the hotel adjoining Glasgow Central Railway Station and this is where Cavell sought me out. There he had unexpectedly revealed his admiration for me and that—I feel embarrassed to think of it—I was the prize he had wanted to steal from Euan and not any of the antiquities.
Reluctantly, I succumbed to my long-repressed desires to lay with a man and we’d shared quite an exceptional night in one another’s arms. The solitary night of passion with this man of mystery changed me in ways that I was still discovering. Cavell had jested that I was buttoned-up and pious, but his care and tenderness most certainly unfastened my buttons!
On my train journey home I did not read the Bible to avoid eye contact, as was my habit in shared compartments, instead, I stared out of the window and let my thoughts linger on Sebastian Cavell, his scent still on my skin and his taste on my lips.
With the passing of time, I wondered if our liaison had really happened for it felt like another man’s life. But no, the disguised man on my stoop wore a playful intimate twinkle in his hazel eyes that I knew was all for me. Meeting that penetrating gaze made me shiver and feel younger than my fifty years.
I came back to myself and in my sober mind remembered my place and my station. This was an affluent square in Bloomsbury and if spotted, beggars were chased away by the caretakers who tended the gardens and ensured our square remained free of riff-raff. I did not want either Alfred or George to set their eyes on Josiah as it would be the worst for him. No matter how secretly overjoyed I was to see Cavell, common sense must prevail. I was suddenly overcome with the need to get this man off the street and into my house so I could speak with him privately.
“Spare a coppa for an old soldier?” Josiah said in his salt-of-the-earth Cockney brogue.
“Actually, yes, but you can earn it man! I have a grate that requires blacking. Don’t dally on the doorstep! Let’s get you through to the kitchen.” I said loudly so that any who overheard knew I was inviting this vagrant into my plush home for legitimate reasons.
Josiah leaned heavily on his crutch, hobbled up the step, and over the threshold. I closed the door behind him.
“What the devil are you doing here? How do you even know where I live?” I asked in a rough whisper.
Sebastian let out a mighty sigh. He sagged against the wall, dropped the crutch, and fiddled beneath the greatcoat. A black ribbon that was fastened around the thigh and calf of his bent left leg was untied, releasing the leg from its bond. His left foot hit my tiled floor heavily and Sebastian reached out and gripped my shoulder. Ordinarily, I did not like to be touched, but Cavell somehow breached my defenses and I did not feel the overwhelming rush of anxiety and flaying pain to my skin when he touched me. Cavell put weight on his newly released foot, and let out a near orgasmic moan of pain. He stared at me, his eyes large and glazed. He looked as if he were in the midst of an Opium high.
“There’s… quite a rush of sensation…” He gasped as I reached out to steady him,
“As the blood returns to the leg…it’s quite exciting actually, the pain…the pleasure…mingle.” He explained, his fingers digging into the meat of my shoulder. Beneath my jacket, my skin tingled at his touch and my mouth went dry with seeing his glazed expression and hearing the explanation. I absently licked my lips. Did Cavell have a fetish for restraint? Oh, Gods, I could not allow myself to think of it. It was shameful enough to have allowed myself to be intimate with this man, and I dare not consider other ways we could find release together.
To my great relief, Cavell loosened his grip on me and put all of his weight on his left leg, bent it the knee, and stamped a few times. Then, to ensure correct perambulation he took several steps up and down the hall. Satisfied, he leaned against my stair banisters and looked at me with puppy-dog eyes.
“Would you mind awfully if I took a hot bath and relieved you of some clothing, dear heart?” He asked sweetly. Cavell had done the very same thing in my Glasgow hotel room. If any other man had asked I would have been appalled and found the question to be the height of impropriety, however, I could not refuse him. The garments he wore for his disguise of Josiah were quite repulsive and I knew that under that shaggy false beard were lips I ached to kiss. Not that I would permit such a thing to occur.
“My gentleman’s gentleman is about town about his business,” I said. “Let’s get you upstairs before Mrs. Twigg sees you. She would be horrified that I’d allowed a vagrant to lay even one foot on her newly polished floor.”
I hid the wooden crutch in the under stair cupboard
