Page 62 of Apt to be Suspicious
He spoke gently now, responding to her stammering without mentioning it. The words came out deliberately, but with no hint of ducking the question. “During the war, I had relationships with two different women, six months and nine months long. Both widowed in the war, a bit older than I was. They were thirty and thirty-two, to my nineteen or twenty. They had young children, both of them. Both were secretaries where I worked, with arrangements for people to watch their children during the day.”
He shrugged. “War makes odd bedfellows, isn’t that the phrase? I’d be over there in the evenings, perhaps all night, depending on what was going on. Sometimes there’d be an air raid, or something that woke the little ones in the night, and we’d all troop down to the bomb shelter.” He rubbed his nose. “Major Manse knew. I mean, he pays attention to that sort of thing. But we’ve never discussed it. You’re the first person I’ve actually told.”
“What happened to them?” Pen felt a certain need to know. “Will I run into them?”
“They’re both non-magical. You might meet them, I suppose, if you continue doing cryptographic work. But most of that sort of thing gets handled elsewhere. They’ve both remarried. An army man, a navy man. I get Christmas cards from each of them. They’re happy. The children are happy. Their new fathers treat them well. I’d still lend a hand if they needed it, if someone wasn’t. I hope that’s not a problem for you.” Then he shrugged again. “Sometimes I’ll see one or the other if I’m in the office. It’s good and steady work for them, and the hours are vastly more predictable now.”
That penultimate sentence particularly caught Pen’s attention. “If you’re— that's the present tense.”
“It is.” Edmund considered. “I said I’ll be away for six weeks over the long vac. I’ll be travelling in Greece and Italy, partly as a benefit to my studies. But also to meet with a few people of interest. An excellent cover story, you see?” Now his voice had that earnest note again. “Also, it’s a chance to establish what I might do. I can’t take on full-time work there after I leave Oxford. It would mean extended postings away from Albion, and I can’t do that.”
“The land magic.” Pen said it and got another flashing smile from him.
“See, you are entirely clever enough for conversation. I might take on consulting, or doing that kind of trip, where I’ve a good reason to wander about asking apparently innocent questions. Mama and Papa have done it for ages, both of them. This trip is a good trial run on several sides.”
Pen swallowed hard. “Oh.” She’d have to think much more about that, what it would be like to be with someone doing that sort of thing. And what it meant that the trip was a cover for such things. “Could you talk about any of it?”
“Not the details, unless we’re under the same oaths and agreements. But that much? Probably. Or if you were interested in helping, like Mama and Papa did, that’s easier on the sharing. You’d certainly have your own skills to offer. The fact that you were where you were in the war would be a help. They’ve already vetted you significantly, of course.”
Pen felt overwhelmed. Now she had to close her own eyes. “And right now? Today? This week, soon?”
“I would very much like to kiss you. Nothing more just now, I think. You need to get back to Somerville. I rather hope that once we explore a bit, we won’t want to stop. That’s a Saturday sort of thing with arranging for you to stay. Or hols.”
The tone of his voice made her snort. Then she took a deep breath. “Show me what you think about kissing, then.”
Showing was the right word. Edmund had been so careful about direct permission so far, but he took that as permission to do what he’d wanted. He twisted on the sofa, his leg pressing against hers, then his hand came up to cup her cheek, then rested on her shoulder. Edmund leaned into the kiss, not rushing it, waiting to see how she reacted.
She could feel an eagerness there, somehow, like a horse wanting to gallop rather than go at a sedate walk, but reined in. It took her longer to figure out how to respond, whether to open her mouth or not, how to angle her head a little better. But as soon as she did, as soon as she made space, he was pressing a little closer, letting the eagerness show. That desire was utterly contagious, in a way that would be dangerous indeed if they went further tonight. She’d never want to leave these rooms.
They went on like that, little pauses for breath and a shift of angle, until they both mutually pulled back. “You’re right.” Pen managed, not quite stuttering. “More tonight, and I’d be sent down from college.”
“Can’t have that. May I walk you back? Entirely appropriate in public, of course. A quick peck on the lips when I leave you at the gate.” Edmund’s eyes were lit up again, dancing, something utterly joyous there. “And then we can anticipate something more, when we’ve world enough and time.”
Pen snorted. “And now you’re quoting poetry. Relevant poetry. Marvell’s To His Coy Mistress.”
“Mmm. Not all my references are classical.” Edmund leaned back against the sofa, watching her through half-lidded eyes. “Agreeable?”
“The anticipation might kill me, but I suppose I’ll manage.” She glanced across the room at the clock. “We needn’t rush, but I think it's better to walk back now. Or I’ll want that distraction again, and then I will be late.”
“As my lady wishes.” That turn of phrase might, in other mouths, have been a poetic one. Pen was, however, suddenly certain that he had been deliberate about it, naming a thing that might come to be if all went well. She did not comment on it, she couldn’t possibly. But she accepted his hand up, his offer of additional meringues in a suitable small tin, and his arm as they walked back to Somerville.
Chapter 39
Thursday, June 3rd
“You’re certain it’s all right for me to be here?” Edmund couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder toward the door. And, more importantly, the hallway that led from Ursula’s set of rooms to the stairs and the main house. It was four o’clock, and he was clear until about six, if he wanted to be on time for hall.
Ursula snorted. “Look, move to this chair, or you’ll harm yourself watching your back.” She stood smoothly, waiting for Edmund to stand before she took his place and he took the chair she’d been in. “First, I have every right to invite friends over. Second, I need to go stir something for Uncle Garin every hour, so meeting somewhere else didn’t work.” She lifted her mug of tea. “Third, he’s out until seven, which is why I need to stir.”
“And we’re here and not nearer the alchemy lab because...” Edmund let his voice trail off.
“Because I’m quite certain you’d not talk about whatever it was you wanted to talk about so urgently in the public spaces. Also, while I’ve every right to invite you into my rooms, I do not have the right to invite you into Uncle Garin’s lab.” Ursula shrugged once. “He will not bite your head off, though. Certainly not from Trellech. He’s in meetings until at least six, probably closer to seven.”
“It’s not as if I trust that.” Edmund let out a huff of breath. He got on very well with Ursula, their skills complemented each other. But her uncle was an entirely different problem. Lord Fortier had been responsible, at least in part, for Edmund’s uncle’s death, for his Papa becoming Lord, and for everything else that followed from it.
There’d been some steps forward. Papa and Lord Fortier could now have a civil conversation about shared goals. That did not put Edmund at ease. But Ursula was right. This was her space and her rooms, as Garin Fortier’s Heir. “You’ve set a timer?”
“Come on, Edmund, as if I wouldn’t.” She gestured at the clock on a side table, currently showing about twenty minutes to the hour. As Edmund watched, one hand ticked backwards, showing they had about nineteen now. “What brings you out so urgently?”
