Thrill of the Chase (Hunters & Heartbreakers 1)

XI - Langdon

^^Above: The London Zoo entrance, in a more present-day setting.^^

Essentials of the Blood-Bind

By Solomon & Augustus Selling

Dedicated to our friend Marcus...the face of progress!

—S. Selling.

26 April, morning. — I leave the group a day early to head back to London. Fortunately no one had noticed I'd snuck out last night, not even Cornelius, or that I'd even left the hotel at all. I keep thinking of what happened between Wells and I in his room, and when I do, I feel a headache start in my temples. I know I shouldn't have hugged him. And I know I shouldn't have said anything about how I felt, even if it was true. It isn't so much that I want Wells to return my feelings — although the way he was looking at me last night, that already seems true — but rather for everyone else to let us figure them out.

But I know that will never happen.

And, a little more unfortunately for me, waiting on the platform when I disembark from the train is Marjorie Selling and an older, matronly-looking woman in a plaid dress left over from the last decade. The family is well-off enough that they can afford to have their daughter chaperoned everywhere, and with someone of Marjorie's standing, she's probably been barred from ever trying to go out alone.

"Langdon!" Marjorie's voice is practically a squeal as she scutters towards me through the crowd of travellers, and within seconds she's throwing her arms around me. For the moment, she seems to have lost her chaperone. "I heard you were coming...Father sent us the telegram an hour ago."

"Did he?" I'm not surprised, but it makes me suspect that the conclusion we reached in Wells's room last night is correct.

"Yes, and since you've come back before the others, we have some time to ourselves," she says, leaning in conspiratorially. "Just like before, when we snuck out of the party."

"Who is your...?" I start, just as the older woman appears out of the crowd behind Marjorie. Quickly I let go of her, and she seems to sense the woman's presence, because she pulls away just as promptly.

"Langdon...I mean, Mr Wilkes, this is my governess, Miss May Whitcomb. Miss Whitcomb, this is Langdon Wilkes."

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Whitcomb." I give her governess a bow of my head, and when she puts out her hand wordlessly I take it and give the back of it a dry brush of my lips.

"So you are the boy Mr Selling cannot stop talking about," she says in a pinched voice. "I must say, you are quite different than what I imagined."

Marjorie flushes, and I raise an eyebrow at the governess. "What do you mean by that, Miss Whitcomb?"

"A gentleman," she says, and the knot in my stomach loosens.

"What did you have in mind, with this time to ourselves?" I ask as we leave the train station, Marjorie's hand in my elbow and Miss Whitcomb bobbing along in our wake. "Can we shake her off long enough to do it?"

Marjorie winks at me. "Oh, certainly."

I steal a glance over my shoulder. Unlike the time we escaped at the party, Miss Whitcomb is not occupied with other things. In fact, her top responsibility appears to be keeping Marjorie in her sights at all times. That makes it difficult, but I've known Marjorie long enough to expect her to be forming a plan to give her governess the slip right this moment.