“Begging your pardon, sir. Birdie—Mr. Robins asked for a little company while he waited for you to return home.” She simpered. The maids stood up and also took on the downtrodden cast of kicked pups at seeing the displeased, stormy look on my face. Cavell turned in his seat,
“Ah! Benedict, there you are! These ladies saw fit not to leave me to twiddle my thumbs alone. You are a lucky man, they are rather delightful company!” Birdie preened.
Cavell was incorrigible. Damn him! I wanted to give him a piece of my mind and at the same time, I craved to kiss him breathless.
“Please do not worry ladies. I have no further need for service tonight. Off to bed with you now.” I ordered.
Mrs. Twigg and maids curtsied and left the room. I closed and locked the door behind them, then listened to their footfalls as they mounted the stairs to their bedrooms in the attic. I turned to Cavell. In his hand, he held a gold and enamel pocket watch by its Prince Albert chain. The heavy fob swung back and forth and Cavell watched it, his face taking on a serene cast. I shook my head with disgust.
“I knew it!” I scowled and stamped over to the drinks cabinet. Looking over the array of bottles, I fretted, indecisive as to my poison. I needed something strong with a fierce burn to match my temper. I chose the bottle of Ardbeg Highland Whisky that I had been saving. It was gifted to me by my uncle Barnard for when I made my majority. He did not live to share it with me, and so the bottle sat in my bank vault for years, and then when I was comfortable in my house, it came home and remained at the back of my cabinet waiting for the right occasion! After the mess this evening I felt like getting drunk!
“Ardbeg, I say!” Birdie exclaimed and I realized Cavell was behind me. I stiffened. He threaded his hands under my arms and removed the bottle from my grasp, placing it gently back in the cabinet as if it would shatter in his hands. I was not in the mood for games. Sebastian stepped closer, pressed himself to my back, and clasped his hands at my belly. He laid his chin on my shoulder, rubbed his nose against my curls, and breathed in the scent of my hair. I felt his exhalation on my neck and goosebumps rose over every inch of my skin.
“Are you awfully mad with me?” He said in a soft, intimate voice.
Words seemed to stick in my throat as my heart raced with the press of that hard, warm body to my back. I was angry, damnably angry, and yet…and yet… I was enclosed in warm, loving arms. It was bewildering how this man could muddle my brain. Sebastian placed soft kisses to my nape and my defences fell. I melted back into him.
“I… I….I am very angry,” I insisted, pushing the words out to prevent myself moaning with the pleasure of his ministrations.
“How did you do it? How you make the candles all blow out at once?” I demanded.
“I may be clever, dear heart, but that was not me!” There was laughter in his voice.
“What?” I turned in his arms and looked him in the eyes. To my dismay, I found he was telling the truth. “Then what happened?”
“Pour us a drink and we’ll sit, yes? And do not touch the Ardbeg.” He warned, “That bottle is worth a king’s ransom!”
Betraying myself I smiled pleased that we shared an appreciation of excellent whiskey. I returned the dusty bottle of Ardbeg to the back of the cabinet and poured us both a glass of Port. I settled in my fireside chair opposite Sebastian and awaited his tale!
“I owe you an apology for abandoning you like that. It was rude and thoughtless”, he began.
“It was.”
“It’s just—Look, I saw an opportunity, and I could not let it go, especially when the candles all blew out.”
“What do you mean?”
“The man from whom I took the fob watch is Mr. Cecil Davidson; he was a housemaster at Winchester School. My client boarded there ten years ago. He was involved in some sort of boyish high-jinks by the sound of it, and Master Davidson inspected his dorm. He confiscated this watch which had been left to my client by his grandfather.”
“Let me have a look at it!” Cavell passed the fob watch to me.
“My client complained to the Headmaster about the theft and Master Davidson denied ever seeing the watch. With his defiant attitude in trying to prove the man a liar, my client was expelled and finished his schooling elsewhere. Anyway, he saw Davidson at an exhibition at The British Museum last year. The man was wearing his grandfather’s watch. Although tempted, he was wise not to take matters into his own hands. I was contacted through the demimonde and have been observing Davidson off and on. He never left the house with the watch and so, I greased the palms of a maid. She told me he slept with the damn thing under his pillow! I was planning a break-in. However, as you can imagine, when I saw him in the audience tonight with that watch on display I knew I could not leave the Society without it.”
It was indeed an interesting tale. I inspected the watch.
“It is French, and… quite beautiful!” I exclaimed dreamily. “Eighteen karat gold body in a golden case decorated with floral ornaments in
