Thirty-Four

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

"Must you go?" Izzy pouted, feigning petulance when Kaede hopped into a pair of trousers. She sat up in the bed, clutching the quilt to her chest, and offered him the most suggestively promiscuous 'come hither' look she could muster.

For a moment, she thought it may very well work.

The young Beastkeeper hesitated, his hands pausing at the placards over the front of his dark trousers, as he considered her, but then he was shaking his head. "The larder is emptying," he mumbled, tipping his head to frown at his crotch that appeared to be fighting through the bindings of his trousers. "You tempt me too much, Iz."

"Then stay," she urged. "We won't starve if you leave it for tomorrow, surely."

At that, he offered her a dry look and scoured the floor for his shirt that she had torn from his shoulders some time ago. "I have to pick up a few items from the tailor as well, considering I didn't venture here with the intent to stay. He won't hold my trousers for much longer."

"Pah, so wasteful- clothes."

Kaede's lips twitched as he bent to retrieve the shirt at the foot of the bed. Straightening, he tossed it over his shoulders and worked his wrists through the cuffs, eyeing her thoughtfully as he did so. "I won't be long- you needn't worry."

"Let me come with you, then."

He snorted. "No."

"It's been a sennight, surely-"

"No, Iz."

He strode to her side, coming to sit at the edge of the bed so that he could drop a kiss to the top of her disgruntled mien. "Don't give me that look," he murmured against the tousled mop of burgundy curls.

"I'll give you whatever look I like," she groused. "I'm cooped up in this townhouse like a damn hen day in and day out. The only people who leave it are you and my sister. I'm starting to think I'm a prisoner."

"You're not," he told her gently. "I leave because I can navigate the seedier parts of town with more ease than you would, and you know Grant wouldn't bother himself to look for us there. Besides, just a few more days longer- since it has been so quiet, it seems unlikely that he intends to drag this debacle out any longer."

Izzy huffed a breath. If she were honest with herself, she was just being petulant considering she didn't want him to leave her- for however long. Unreasonable, she knew, but there it was. And it made her quite vulnerable; that knowledge, that the male before her had needled under her skin and latched onto her heart so effectively.

"Grant still poses a problem for you," she pointed out, feeling his tail curl around her waist. With no preamble, Kaede lifted her from the mattress and draped her over her lap, quilt and all.

"I can handle myself," he returned, nuzzling the column of her neck. "You do not realise how tempted I am to stay here with you. I could spend hours devouring this spot-" he licked a sensitive patch of flesh directly under her ear for emphasis- "alone."

"I highly recommend relenting to said temptation," Izzy gasped, squirming against his hardening length that was pressing against her thigh.

"Gods, woman." He groaned, a soft and tortured sound that reverberated through his chest and ignited something warm and insistent in her veins. "Why is it that I never feel satiated with you? I could spend hours yet between your thighs and my body would still yearn for you. What madness is this?"

She flushed, her chest and heart swelling with something poignant and tangible that made her heartbeat skip and her pulse pitch. Oh, in the recesses of her thoughts she knew she could put a name to the infatuation that had somehow evolved into something more during their time together- and it sat there, on the tip of her tongue, poised to hurl over a precipice of no return and explode into thousands of glistening embers that would ignite the air between them.

Love.

Trust.

Her gut churned and she hesitated, such notions diluted with the past that had taught her not to rely on such things.

A large hand swept over her hip, catching the material of the quilt and dragging the fabric over the swell of her breasts until the edges caught on her nipples and then pooled about her waist. Izzy clung to his shoulders, urging him towards her, all thoughts and notions of unease suddenly eluding her as if they were never there to begin with.

She found strength in his brawny shoulders, comfort in the manner in which he treated her as if she was the most precious being in all the world, and in that she would accept his reliability.

Her mind spent hours yet attempting to convince her of the truth that Kaede wasn't the sort to abandon her, wasn't the sort to offer her empty promises or devotions.

Their union was marked, their time together honoured by fate, and that was something she could place trust in- she hoped.

Inexplicably, she found herself on her back, pressed into the pillows, and Kaede's length atop her. His lips found hers and for a moment her body lit up, arching into what she perceived as his relenting to stay with her yet, and a needy moan left her at his passionate kiss.

But he ended it all too soon, lurching away from her so that he was propped above her with his hands splayed to either side of her head. "An hour," he said, his voice a bit ragged. "I won't be longer than that."

And he pushed off the mattress, leaving her frustrated and longing for all sorts of things. It was rather unpleasant. "Bloody hell."

He snatched the quilt and tugged it over her breasts. "Hide those from my sight." Kaede gestured to his groin, an obvious bulge tenting the front of his trousers. "They do not help this situation. I'll be chafing my way around London at this rate."

Izzy snorted, half-inclined to toss the quilt out the window entirely. "It'll serve you right."

His lips quirked to the side in such a boyish manner she felt herself melt into the pillows, resigned to simply enjoy watching him if he wouldn't allow her anything more.

All too soon, he was planting a more solid kiss to her lips, having completed locating his boots and stuffing his feet into them, as well as a creased coat tossed negligently over the arm of one chair.

"Hurry back?" Izzy murmured, melting into the softness of his caress. He shouldn't feel so divine. Honestly, it was a wonder she managed to get out of bed at all with him about.

"Do not doubt that I will return in due haste." His grin was lascivious and he parted from her slightly, a gleam in his mesmerising gaze. "And when I do, I intend to burn that quilt."

Izzy smiled, and when he playfully slid the tip of his tail along one edge of her breast before parting from her entirely, she rather thought she could endure a lifetime of Kaede C'lainn being his boyish self.

He left her then, and she listened intently for the sounds of his departure- the creaking of the stairs, the opening and closing of a door- before a sigh escaped her. Surrounded by a heavy silence, her skin pricked and a sense of unease began to take root. She sat in her bed for a moment, contemplating the peculiar sensations running over her.

She put the strange feelings down to his leaving, to the simple truth that she missed him, and if she were honest with herself, she would admit that she readily loved the male that had just left her.

And quite possibly pined for his return.

It was rare that she had been left to her own devices since Constable Jenkins had paid them a visit, and she had grown used to being in Kaede's presence, so she felt his absence with a hollow pang that left her at a loss.

It was late afternoon which meant that plenty could be accomplished around the house yet. She knew she had to attend to a number of unfinished tasks, and Cassie would no doubt wish to partake in a game of cards later. Her sister, Izzy admitted, had come to see reason remarkably quickly after their initial altercation, though she suspected it had something to do with Kaede's presence.

For whatever reason, Cassie seemed to genuinely like the Beastkeeper and they had soon developed an easy rapport that consisted of affectionate ribbing and lighthearted comradery. Certainly, whenever Cassie had an issue with her older sister, Kaede would be the first to hear of it and be called upon to make Izzy "see reason".

She smiled now as she thought of it, of how easy it had been to adjust to his presence amongst them. Unconventional, certainly, but Izzy hadn't been raised in conventional settings. She'd made the best of her talents and learnt to adapt to whatever situation had presented itself- whether it was survival with the scraps of attention she was given in a tavern kitchen, or the accommodations provided to her through whatever benefactor supported her art... Izzy made do.

She always did.

Climbing from the bed, she set about dressing and taming the riotous curls framing her face into a neat coiffure, before venturing downstairs to tackle the bookshelf she had been dusting and organising.

Sometime later, while she was suitably distracted by a tome of literature that provided a lengthy philosophical argument on Hume's negation on induction, Izzy was jolted from her thoughts by a soft knock at the front entrance of her townhouse.

She frowned at that- it was rare that her close circle would bother knocking. Indeed, even Kaede's twin had foregone the gesture, choosing to simply allow himself entrance via the servant's entrance at the back of the house, much the same as Lou.

Hence, a knock preordained an unwelcome visitor- say, the constable again?

She uncurled her legs from under her and rose to her feet from where she had been on the floor, frowning slightly at the disruption. A quick glance up the stairs ensured that Cassie was still ensconced within her chambers and hadn't heard the knock, which was a good thing. Izzy wouldn't like her younger sister to come downstairs and be disturbed by the presence of the law.

Smoothing over the front of her skirts, she began to move towards the entrance, passing a few noisy pixies who were flitting between the stairwell and the kitchen ceaselessly, as if agitated.

When she pried open the door to peer outside, it was not Constable Jenkins who greeted, nor even- perish the thought- Lewis Grant's scathing face, but that of a woman.

A young, finely clad woman.

A quick perusal ascertained that the woman was about Izzy's age and, from her attire, of notable lineage. Her golden hair had been coiffed neatly into place with artful curls left to drape at her temples. Her eyes were verdantly green and large, almost guileless in nature were it not for the pinched look lining the corners. She was pleasingly pretty with cheeks that pinkened easily due to the fairness of her skin.

But even if there was no forthright animosity displayed on the countenance of the woman standing on the threshold of the townhouse, Izzy rather thought that there should be.

Because she knew the woman before her- even if they had not met before, even if by that right she should not know her name- and likewise her own identity should not be readily known by the woman outside her front door- yet she did.

Once, several long years ago, Isaac Beauchamp had been harangued by his young wife to accompany her to the theatre where it just so happened Izzy's name was on the playbill, setting the course for the start of his affair. The first moment Beauchamp had seen Izzy on the stage, he confessed to her one night, he knew that he had wanted to pursue her. And from the wings, Izzy had spied the couple, in box seats near to the stage, and she would never forget the prettiness of the blonde that had accompanied him that very first evening.

Given her peculiar memory, Izzy had been quick to piece together that the woman she had seen was indeed Lady Marianne Beauchamp, the wife of Lord Isaac Beauchamp.

The very same woman who stood before her now.

"May I come in?" Lady Beauchamp said. There was a clipped note to her voice and her dismissal of pleasantries wasn't lost on Izzy.

So, she swallowed back the painful lump of trepidation that had formed at the base of her throat and nodded her head. She didn't feel that the other woman posed a threat to her. Despite her presence, she was unprepossessing, carrying only a delicate reticule hooked into the crook of one slender arm. She was prim and proper, the ramrod straightness of her back and tilt of her chin dictating that she had been raised as such, and promptly glided over the threshold and into the entrance foyer of Izzy's home.

"No servants?" Lady Beauchamp enquired, casting an assessing eye over the sparse area.

Izzy closed the door, an audible click echoing in the space surrounding them. "No. Perhaps you'd like-"

Lady Beauchamp held out her hand in a swift and effective gesture meant to halt her words. She didn't look at Izzy, her eyes scouring over the various rooms that were viewable from their current location- the parlour and dining room, as well as the narrow stairwell that led up to the bed chambers. "This shan't take long," Lady Beauchamp said and finally those vivid eyes landed on Izzy, skewering her with something calculating that belied the youthfulness of her features. "I have already ascertained that the value of your assets does not account for the entirety of the sum you owe me."

Well, Izzy supposed she had anticipated something like this would happen, hadn't she? It didn't help dispel the ache of unease that clamped about her lungs and made her pulse quicken. "Owe you?"

A smile curled the corners of Lady Beauchamp's lips up into her cheeks, dimpling them becomingly. "Come now, surely you must know who I am."

"I do."

The smile disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. "And you are Isabella Hawkins. See? No pointless introductions required, therefore we can proceed and be done with this nasty business. How would you like to pay me, then, for the inheritance my husband unwisely left you?"

Izzy couldn't quite prevent the manner in which her brows arched at that. "With all due respect-"

"Respect? My dear, my respect is reserved for my peers and family, and those who deserve it. Certainly not my late husband's mistress who somehow clawed her way into his last will and testament."

Izzy felt her cheeks flame with heat and... shame. Hearing her relationship with Isaac ground down into the mere dust of someone's loathsome opinion made her feel almost as unworthy as she was being viewed as. "Lady Beauchamp, your husband left me the inheritance out of his own free will- I had no hand in the matter. Indeed, I had no inkling that he had done such a thing until I was approached by his solicitor."

Lady Beauchamp scoffed and brushed off the explanation with a wave of her slender fingers. "It doesn't matter how you got the money. The point is that you have what should have been left to me."

Izzy narrowed her eyes at the other woman. "How did you find me? I was told that Lord Beauchamp had acted with the utmost discreteness so as to not warrant such an outcome between us and, more importantly, to not distress his wife. So, how is it that you stand before me, Lady Beauchamp?"

Her lips thinned and she wore an almost impatient look on her face. "A bit of money in the right hands will get just about any information one requires. Now, I believe you owe me a sizable amount of money, Miss Hawkins. When can I expect payment?"

Izzy folded her hands before her. "I'm afraid you won't be expecting any payment from me, Lady Beauchamp."

A silence followed and Izzy thought that she'd find the young woman enraged, or outright demanding, but none of that occurred. Instead, Lady Beauchamp smiled- amiably- and nodded her head, once. "Very well. I did anticipate you may say as such. I shan't take any more of your time, Miss Hawkins." She turned towards the door, brushing past Izzy as she opened it and stepped outside. She didn't look back once as she descended the steps towards the conveyance that would return her to her own abode. "Good day," Lady Beauchamp called merrily over her shoulder, and then she was assisted into the carriage by one of her footmen.

As she sped off over the cobbled street, Izzy spied her departure with icy fingers of dread curling slowly around her heart. 

Author's Note:

Sorry that updates are sporadic at best. I aim to have chapters out by the weekend, but I'm terrible at keeping schedules. 

Also life just keeps getting more and more peculiar. Tonight I write to you surrounded by 6 foster kittens I've taken in for a while until we find them loving homes.  Not me trying to work while actively being sought out as a bean pole for curious kittens. 

Also, Against All Odds has made it into the Watty's Shortlist 🥹 I've never entered competitions before, so I'd appreciate any support you can muster for that story (it's free now with the last 10 chapters being paid unless you wait for the next update). 

That's all for now. 

Love a very tired and overwhelmed writer, 
Ash x