A Dinner Party
It was hard to recall that life at Rooksgrave had ever been lonely, that any day of my life might ever have been. I had company every minute it suited me, games and conversation, and a hand in mine as soon as I reached for one. Sex as soon as I thought of it too, which was made lovelier by how well my men were learning me and I them.
Amon joined us for dinners, which I made with Auguste, usually with the help of one of the others. Jonathon schemed with Ezra. Ezra joked with Booker, even when we weren't sure if Booker understood. There was unity amongst us, and I'd never had anything like it before. Something like family but even more wicked and lovely.
"It was…thoughtful of Amon to wait for dark," Auguste mused in the carriage we rode in on the way to Amon's house at the end of the week.
I set my cheek on his shoulder and nodded with a smile. Booker and Ezra were squeezed into the seat opposite us, Jonathon holding my hand on my right. Ezra was mostly solid, although I could tell when his mind wandered because he quickly faded.
"Ez, you mustn't take anything while we're there," I said, sitting up suddenly.
Ezra winked out for a moment before reappearing with a toothy grin. "How'd you know what I was thinking of?"
"Because it was the same look you had when you tried to steal the pocket watch off the imp last night," I answered.
"I should've let him bite you," Auguste said, but he was laughing at Ezra.
"I'll behave," Ezra said, shrugging, but his eyes slid away.
"You will not," I sighed out.
"He will or Mr. Tanner will have his ass," Jonathon muttered.
Ezra's eyes widened at the threat. "Have how?"
"Does it matter?" Jonathon parried, and Ezra paled and then faded a bit.
"S'pose not."
I snorted, shaking my head, and then choked at the view outside of the carriage window. "Oh, Christ."
Auguste leaned forward to look, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "Mm. Yes, that's nice. What were you expecting?"
"He's just one man! Sphinx. You know what I mean. How can he need all of that?" I asked, gaping at the enormous palace-like structure we were riding up to. It was at least as big as Rooksgrave, which seemed to hold a whole village inside when it came to life at night, but much brighter and wider.
"He's a showoff," Ezra answered easily, and Booker grunted with what might've been agreement or admonishment for all I could tell.
"He would want to impress you," Jonathon said a little more fairly.
In the service world, a house like that would've been one of the nicest places you could work. Housemaids were all generally the same, but one here would still outrank me in my old position. I had a funny feeling as we approached the great stone home, candles lit in every ornate window, all the way up into the turrets, that I would be denied entry. Even the back door would be too good for a girl like me.
I swallowed hard and then looked across the seat at Ezra, who was eyeing the house with narrow-eyed speculation. He glanced at me, and I knew at that moment that we were equally ill at ease. This wasn't a place for us.
And yet…
I took a deep breath and Ezra mirrored me, his eyebrows waggling.
"Imagine it," he murmured and I nodded, my smile blooming.
"Imagine what?" Auguste asked, glancing between us.
I patted his knee and shook my head, "Nothing. Just…imagining."
Imagining that I could walk in through that enormous front door with my head held high, not as a maid but as Amon's guest. That I could sit at his dinner table and be served, rather than one of the many scurrying lives under the house that kept it running. That I could sleep in the sheets in some fine bed, pretending to sleep as some young girl started a fire in the hearth before dawn so I would be warm when I rose for breakfast.
The doors were already opening as the carriage pulled up to the long, wide stairwell. It had been considered Jonathon's turn to dress me for the night, and he'd chosen something I suspected was a concession to Amon's taste. Considering the long white gown, draped and silky around me, didn't call for a corset, I was more than happy to oblige in wearing it. It flowed around me, hanging from two golden clasps at my shoulders in the shape of a moon and sun, tucked and tailored carefully to draw in at my waist before swishing loosely around my hips and legs.
"Bit Grecian for an Egyptian," Auguste had mused, making Jonathon sniff.
"Semantics."