Yes, everyone was having a marvelous time already, and the night was still young. Graham and Alonzo had hired a small band of the highest quality. They took up most of the stage, though a few people had moved to stand on the edges of the stage to look out over the crush of revelers dancing in the center of the stuffy room. The decorations gave the place exactly the air of spooky festivity that they’d planned for. The noise in the place was deafening, which was more proof that a good time was being had by all.
Beckett’s restlessness bubbled right under the surface, though. As hard as he’d worked to make the event a success so that Graham might notice him, he knew he’d failed. He felt as though he’d been in the process of failing for months now, but after the way Graham had snapped at him that morning, Beckett didn’t have any hope left.
“Get your man in order,” Graham had growled, leaving Beckett with no uncertainty about what he truly thought. He’d been talking about Noah, of course. He’d spoken as though there were something between him and Noah.
The notion was absurd, of course. He and Noah were merely friends. To imagine anything else would be…well, it wouldn’t be worth imagining.
“Are you ready for your grand gesture?” Noah asked, appearing out of nowhere and clamping an arm around Beckett’s shoulders.
Beckett’s heart sped up at the sight of Noah, and at his friend’s touch. Noah was dressed in one of Beckett’s louder suits, and he wore a top hat at a jaunty angle atop his halo of hair. His eyes were bright with mischief—which was a stark contrast to the dull defeat that had been in his eyes after he’d come back from speaking to Graham in the hallway that morning. His mien was a perfect fit for his costume as the Mad Hatter.
Perhaps a little too perfect, all things considered.
“There he is,” Noah spoke right against Beckett’s ear in order to be heard. He pointed across the club to the bar, where Graham was busy serving drinks. Graham hadn’t dressed up at all. “He’s just standing there, a fruit ripe for the picking. As soon as the next waltz begins, you must go to him and ask to dance.”
“Oh, Noah, I…I don’t think so,” Beckett said, twisting slightly to extract himself from his friend’s grip. “After this morning—”
“This morning was a fluke,” Noah insisted, slipping his hand into Beckett’s and leading him a few steps across the club toward the bar. “I think Ravenswood was under the grip of a bout of dyspepsia. It was nothing that a good shit couldn’t cure.”
Beckett burst into laughter, leaning into Noah. His friend had a way of dispelling the worst of his nerves with a well-timed joke that Beckett found incredibly useful. He squeezed Noah’s hand and let himself be led even closer to the bar.
“I can see the whole thing now,” Noah said, leaning so close that his breath tickled Beckett’s ear and neck. “As soon as this song ends, you’ll present yourself to Ravenswood, looking as beautiful as you do, you’ll say the magic words that will pierce his cold heart with Cupid’s arrow, and he won’t be able to resist coming out to waltz with you.”
Beckett grinned at Noah’s description of what would happen, turning to stare at his friend in the closest of quarters. Noah always radiated warmth, both literally and figuratively. He smelled quite nice too. They’d used the same shaving soap, they’d even stood over the same basin to shave while talking about their hopes for the night, but something about the scent of bay blended with Noah’s skin made Beckett want to bury his face against Noah’s neck and just bask in him.
Which was a silly notion, all things considered. Noah wasn’t a thing like Graham, and Graham was the sort of man he desired.
Wasn’t he?
“Are you ready?” Noah whispered, so close he could nibble on Beckett’s earlobe if he wanted to.
Beckett nodded, a fresh wave of dread sweeping through him.
“Then go,” Noah said, pushing him away and nudging Beckett’s back.
It was a terrible idea. Beckett already knew what the outcome would be. But Noah was so enthusiastic about the scene he had in mind, and Beckett was loath to disappoint him. He stood a bit straighter, tugged on the bottom of his waistcoat, then pushed his way through the men lingering around the edge of the bar to come face to face with Graham.
The moment Graham spotted him, Beckett knew the whole thing was for naught. It was far too noisy in the club to hear the sound of Graham’s sigh, but the man’s flat expression and irritation were plainly visible.
Graham made his way around Ricky—who was assisting with bartending duties that night while dressed as Rembrandt from his self-portrait—and came to a stop across from Beckett.
“What can I get you, Beckett?” he asked, as if the whole thing were a chore.
Beckett hesitated. He bit his lip, then glanced over his shoulder to Noah. Noah was, of course, watching the entire scene. He made shooing motions and mouthed the word, “Go,” adding an encouraging smile.
Beckett turned back to Graham with an anxious smile. He couldn’t disappoint Noah, not after all the trouble Noah had gone through to set the moment up.
“I—” he said, but couldn’t think of anything after that.
“Did he tell you what I told him this morning?” Graham asked, crossing his arms and nodding toward Noah.
“Yes?” Beckett hesitated, feeling as though he were shrinking. He should have dressed as Alice instead of the March Hare.
“Then why are you here instead of following him around?” Graham asked.
Beckett frowned and straightened slightly. “Why? Does Noah require following?”
Graham stared flatly at him, then glanced over Beckett’s shoulder. His expression darkened, and he said, “Why don’t you tell me?”