^^Above: Pulteney Bridge, Bath. You might recognise it and other Bath landmarks from Bridgerton, The Duchess, and maybe that episode of Sherlock that takes place in Victorian England.^^

The Victoria House at Lansdown Road

BA1 5DX

Bath

Somerset

22-23 April.

I couldn't sleep. Writing seems to be the only way to vent my feelings anymore. I kept thinking back to that moment on the train, before the blasted conductor interrupted it, when only centimetres separated me from Wilkes. My wanting for him had risen up so strong I could have seized his face and pressed my mouth against his.

It'd been almost impossible to get anything done that day as a result. I'd forced myself to separate from him at the station, and walked the streets until I'd come across the first lodgings I could find. Then I checked myself in, shut myself in my room, and tried to make myself think about something else.

I couldn't, though, as hard as I tried. I had lunch in my room, and supper too, then sat at the window in the gathering darkness. I stared out at the street, thankful that this window was waist-height. Wouldn't want the neighbours noticing the different fit of my trousers.

After going to bed, my thoughts of him kept coming and I felt myself sweating and shaking — like withdrawal from a drug. I launched myself out of bed and peeled off my shirt and undershirt. I leaned up against the wall, pressing my forehead hard against it. This was new for me, all my repressed feelings rushing over me at once. I pushed away from the wall and splayed my hands on it, breathing hard and glaring at the floor. Why did Langdon Wilkes do this to me? Why was he the one my feelings had decided to make themselves known for? And why was I like this?

I paced the room until I could think straight. Wilkes and I were friends. Just friends. Except I didn't want to be friends anymore. I wanted to fist handfuls of his shirtfront in my fingers and kiss him senseless. And I wanted to beat off all the women who were itching to get their claws into him.

Except then I thought of my sister. Naomi had always lived in my shadow, no matter what we did. She knew how I felt about Wilkes, and she wouldn't take him from me for that reason. But anyone could see — even him — that she had fallen head-over-heels for him and there was no getting her up again. And I loved my sister more than anything in this world. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt her.

I must have fallen asleep at some point, because I woke up splayed on the floor with the sunlight streaming right into my face. There was a bruise on my shoulder where I must have fallen against the dresser, although I hadn't felt it when it happened. And Wilkes was still there in my head.

I picked out a bundle of clothing from my carpetbag and then shuffled down the hallway to the tiny bathroom at the end, with just enough room for one person at a time. I shut the door and locked it, turned on the tap in the bathtub, and while it filled I took off the rest of my clothes and made myself think of anything else — like what I was going to do today.

Find something about Trenton Wilkes. That was the first order of business. Find anything that would help us catch him. Even a sighting would be enough. Then at least I'd know we were on to him.

Once I was finished cleaning myself up, I returned to my room and gave myself a good shave. Naomi had told me a couple times that a beard — or any facial hair, really — didn't suit me. I looked too boyish, according to her. Then I finished dressing, in a full suit of clothes. If I was going to be asking questions of people today, I didn't want them thinking I wasn't trustworthy. I wouldn't get any honest answers that way.

Following that I walked the streets for the better part of an hour. I kept hoping I'd run into Wilkes somewhere, but I never did. I stopped for a cup of coffee near the Pulteney Bridge, then wandered across it and followed the river up to Bathwick Street. I crossed back over the river by the Cleveland Bridge, then continued up London Road.

"Hoi, you lost, sir?"

I spun around, where I'd been standing next to a lamppost and trying to think of my next route, and came face-to-face with a young boy in a plaid waistcoat and trousers, his cloth cap twisted in his hands. He seemed genuinely concerned, especially when I didn't answer right away.

"If you's lookin' for some good scoff, I know where ta get some."

"I'm not hungry, actually," I said. "But I am looking for something else. Someone, actually."

"I's real good at scavengin' too, if that be your wantin'," said the boy. "Jus' ask ole Crow, tha's me."

"Crow?" I repeated. "That's what they call you?"

The boy nodded. "Yessir. Scroungin' and scavengin', 'tis what I do best."

"Well, Crow, I..." I glanced around, then motioned for him to follow as I crossed the high street to a smaller side street. "I was wondering if you've ever seen a man by the name of Trenton Wilkes around here lately."

"Wilkes?" Crow cocked his head — an appropriately birdlike mannerism. "What's 'e look like, this cove?"

"Tall. Grey hair, a beard, possibly carrying hunting gear."

"'E got a big nose? Like this?" Crow sketched it in the air, the shape of a prominent Roman nose. "Big 'nuff ta be noticeable?"

"Yes. A fairly large nose." Wilkes was lucky he hadn't gotten that from his father.

"An' 'e got this sword? Seed 'im carryin' it around on 'is belt, y'know. Thinks I, 'What's a cove like 'im need that for?' Then, figures I, must be a hunter, else why would 'e have it a'tall?"

"That'd be him," I said, glad I didn't have to keep asking him questions. "Do you remember when that was?"

"'Bout..." Crow's face screwed into a knot. "For'night ago, mebbe? Thereabout?"

A fortnight ago. That'd been right around when we'd broken into the Institute while Wilkes's father was supposedly at a conference. But it appeared he'd lied and come here.

"Do you remember where you were when you saw him?"

"Me 'n the others, we was outside the abbey, right. Reckons I, my curiosity gots best o' me. Says I, gots ta wee, an' I sneaks away so I could follow 'im. Went round th' Circus, near th' Royal Crescent, an' I lost 'im thereabout. Slippery cove, is 'e."

"The Royal Crescent," I said, because something about that was tugging at my memory. "Will you take me there?"

"Reckons I, now I's not so sure 'e were there a'tall."

I reached into my coat pocket and took out ten shillings, my change from my coffee this morning. I opened my hand and let him see them, their gold finish catching the sunlight. Crow's eyes widened, and I saw him lick his lips.

"I'll make you a deal," I said, folding my fingers back over the coins. "You can have five now, if you take me to the Royal Crescent. And the rest afterward, if you can scavenge around for something useful on Trenton Wilkes."

"Righto," he said, and gave me a chipper salute. "Right this way, guv'."

I had difficulty keeping up with him. He was nimble and fast, hopping up the pavement like he was skimming over water. But we reached the Circus this way, and then over to the Royal Crescent. Then, for a moment, we stood across the street and looked up at the façade.

"'Eard 'em say this place got real fine architecture, like," said Crow, motioning to it. "Called Gorgeous 'r somethin'."

"Georgian?" I squinted up at it. That was Naomi's area of expertise.

"That," said Crow. "Now there be a hunter guild in 'ere, reckons I. Could be where this Wilkes cove ended up."

"A hunter guild?" That surprised me. Most people who weren't hunters didn't know those even existed. But then again, Bath was far smaller than London, and things probably got around much faster.

"There," he said, pointing to a white door closest to us, with the number 5 carved into the portico above it. "That plaque says so."

I glanced both ways, then crossed to Number 5. Sure enough, the plaque next to the door became readable: Bath Hunters' Guild, Established 1754. I squinted at it, just as Crow's reflection appeared over my shoulder.

"So now what?" he asked, when we'd stood outside the Guild's front entrance and I'd handed over the five shillings I'd promised him.

"We improvise," I said, reaching over and pulling the rope next to the door. A bell rang from somewhere inside, faint and muffled.

When the door opened, I wasn't expecting to see the man that stood there, wearing a slate-grey suit, bow tie, and round spectacles. In fact, I hadn't been expecting to see him ever again, after the blood-bond demonstration.

"Mr Trotter?"

—

He showed us into an office that was clearly his on the top floor, with a view of the rolling green park outside. I noticed the man had copies of his own book on the shelves, as well as another, on the same subject, by S. & A. Selling. That was interesting, and a plan to nick it immediately started to form in my head.

"What are you doing here, Mr Hudson?" Trotter asked, with no introduction at all.

"It's a favour for someone," I said. "I'd rather not say who."

"Suit yourself." Trotter shrugged. "But I am curious to know how you found me."

"Was me, Mr Trotter sir," Crow said, raising his hand. "Saw a mutual friend come 'ere, thinks us. A Mr Trenton Wilkes."

Trotter's face twitched, but other than that, no reaction. "Trenton was not here."

"About two weeks ago, he was," I said. "My friend Crow saw him come to this door and ring the bell."

That last part was a little bit of a fabrication, but it got the reaction I wanted. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"But you didn't deny it," I pointed out. "Which means he was here. I've gathered he spends much of his spare time away from London here in Bath. And the only reason he would do that is to see you."

"That's a lot of assumption on your part," said Trotter, eyes flashing.

"Is it? It didn't take much to connect the dots, Mr Trotter. I don't think I have to tell you how."

"Was it his son?" Trotter's lip curled. "He seems the type to snitch."

Once again, I blacked out. The next thing I knew, I had Trotter pinned up against the window, one of my arms across his throat and my clenched fist raised to stick one on him.

"Hoi, guv'," said Crow from behind me. "Never seed anybody move that fast."

Trotter raised his hands. "I did not realise the young Wilkes was a sensitive subject for you, Mr Hudson."

"He's not a snitch," I hissed into his face, then pushed myself away. "Say that again, and I will actually punch you."

Trotter righted himself, tugging at his coat in a clear show of affront. "As it happens, Trenton Wilkes was not here for anything nefarious. This is a new post for me as of last month. He was looking in on me to see how I was settling in."

"Why does he care? Now that you two work in different cities?"

"He got me this post, if you must know," Trotter said, straightening his spectacles. "I push papers, but I do it for a very respected institution."

It made a little more sense now. But the one thing that was still not fitting, however, was why Trotter suddenly had an important post at all.

"How about this, then," I said, taking two steps towards the bookshelf and sliding the Sellings' book from it. "Do you know the Selling brothers, by any chance?"

"I've met them, yes," said Trotter. "Both of them were younger than me at the Institute."

"One has a son, Cornelius," I said. He was the image of a snitch. "Have you spoken to him on any occasion?"

Trotter's eye twitched at the corner. "Yes."

"Do you remember when?" I leafed through the book, hoping I appeared casual. "Was it recent?"

"No," Trotter answered curtly. "He was still a tyke. Hadn't started at the Institute yet."

"Right." I nodded without looking up. "So if I were to ask him the same thing, would he give me the same answer?"

"Yes," snapped Trotter. "You and your...friend must leave now. Before I have Guild security drag you out."

"Fine." I thumped the book shut and turned towards the bookshelf again, making as if to put it back. But at the last minute I shoved it under my suit coat and clamped down on it with my arm. "But this isn't over, Trotter. As long as you know that."

"Just get out," he hissed.

We did, and within minutes we were back out on the street. I slid the book out from under my coat, and Crow's eyes widened when he saw it.

"Hoi, guv'," he said. "'Ow come 'e never seed you take that?"

"I think he was too busy watching you," I answered. "And he didn't suspect me. Or he won't, and by then we'll be long gone."

"'Ope so, reckons I," he said.

—

25 April.

I didn't see hide or hair of Wilkes or any of his company until nearly two days later. In the meantime I kept Crow around, mostly to spy on Trotter. He was wily as a fox, and just as nimble too, and at the end of each mission — totalling three by then — I asked if he thought he'd been seen.

"Never been seed before, guv'," he always said. "Dunno 'ow ta catch me, reckons I."

On the morning of the third day, I met Crow at our usual spot on the corner. Neither of us had had any breakfast, and he suggested the open-air market in the town center as we began to walk. I normally didn't eat breakfast without having a proper sit-down, but we weren't here under any normal circumstances.

I spotted Wilkes when we reached the coffee cart, ladled into teacups by a hunched old woman wrapped in a few shawls. He was hemmed in by Cornelius Selling and his father Solomon—who seemed to be saying something in Wilkes's ear. I saw him lay a hand on the back of Wilkes's neck while handing him his coffee cup.

It was Cornelius who saw us first. His blue eyes hardened when he did, and his lip curled into a sneer.

"Oi. Look what the cat dragged in."

I scowled at him, ignoring the comment. I saw Wilkes's eyes widen over Cornelius's shoulder, clearly shocked to see me.

"Mr Hudson," said Solomon Selling, shooting a meaningful look at Cornelius as he came forward with his hand out. "Join us for breakfast, won't you?"

"Oh, Mr Selling, I don't want to impose—"

"Nonsense, you're doing nothing of the sort," he said. "You and your friend, have anything you want. I'll pay it."

I had no choice, but at least it was an excuse to steal a couple minutes with Wilkes. I had much to catch him up on.

Which was how, when we had coffee and pastries in hand, Wilkes dropped behind the Sellings to walk with us. He gave Crow a curious glance, then directed it at me.

"Who is this?" he asked.

"Called Crow, am I," said Crow. "Always been. Dunno 'f I had a real name."

"Crow is just fine," Wilkes said, taking a bird-sized bite of his pastry. "Much better than those people who have seven."

"You one of 'em?" Crow's eyes narrowed at him.

Wilkes shuddered. "I've only got three, fortunately. One of which everyone seems to despise."

"Or is afraid of it, rather," I said, and Wilkes nodded.

I didn't get to pull him aside until we'd finished the coffee and pastries. Once again I let the Sellings get ahead of us, and Crow too. Then I caught Wilkes's elbow and tugged him into a quieter side street. He was too surprised to resist, apparently, because he followed without any.

"What's this about, Wells?" he asked when I let go and we stood face-to-face.

I filled him in on everything I'd learned over the past few days. Wilkes listened without interrupting, his expression mostly unreadable. When I finished, he finally spoke.

"That book you nicked. Can I see it?"

"I don't have it with me. It's in my hotel room." I took a deep breath before asking the next question. "Could you sneak out tonight? I know it's risky, but..."

"I'll try," he said, digging his hands into his trouser pockets. "I can't promise anything."

"This is where I'm staying." I took out the leaflet I'd snatched from the front desk this morning. "If there's a way you can come..."

He took the leaflet from me and glanced over it, then handed it back. "We're close to you, actually. Staying just up the street at the Royal Belvedere. I could slip out after supper."

"You would?" I said, and realising I sounded far too eager, I took a second to keep going. "I mean...I know it's asking a lot, Wilkes. You're absolutely sure you won't be caught?"

"Nothing's absolute, you understand." He pushed his hair out of his eyes, and my fingers itched to do the same when it fell back into place a couple seconds later. "I mean...Cornelius catches me, it's all over."

"I see," I said, because he was right. Cornelius was nosy, and sneaky to boot, which meant that if he even had a hint of suspicion, he would act on it. "Is there a way to give him the slip?"

"I room with him," Wilkes said, with a defeated shrug. "I'd have to wait until everyone goes to bed, and then try to sneak in."

"Well, that's...unfortunate," I said, and he nodded his agreement. "It's really no obligation, Wilkes. I could try and remember to bring it with me tomorrow."

"It's important, though," he said. "That's what counts. Even if I can't promise, I'll do my best. That's all I can give you."

I put out my hand for a shake, and he took it. "Then that's all I can ask of you, isn't it?"

—

I was nervous all afternoon, into evening. For one thing, I was afraid Wilkes would be caught, and for another, I was afraid it would be Cornelius Selling who would catch him. He wasn't above blackmail, especially when Wilkes was going to be an imminent suitor of Marjorie's. The accusations could fly any which way.

So when darkness began to fall I retreated to my room instead of aimlessly walking the streets, requesting my dinner be brought up, and sat by the window to keep an eye out for Wilkes. I was so preoccupied I barely ate a thing as a result.

The distant Bath Abbey bells marked the time, from seven to half-seven to eight. I spotted a lamplighter making his way along the street, climbing up his ladder to touch his flaming stick to the wick inside each streetlight. A man left the inn, a young, well-dressed woman on each arm. Their voices and laughter echoed up to me through my barely-open window.

Then, at a quarter to nine, I saw him — Wilkes, hugging the buildings on the opposite side of the street and glancing furtively over his shoulder. I noticed he hadn't bothered with a hat or overcoat, still in the same clothes he'd been wearing this morning.

I watched him dart across to the inn's entrance, then disappear from sight. I pushed myself up from my spot, wincing as one of my knees twinged, and straightened my waistcoat and cravat. And no sooner had I pulled the Sellings' book from under the mattress that a knock came at my door.

"Mr Hudson?" said a muffled voice from the other side. "You have a guest...a Mr Langdon Wilkes? Says he knows you?"

I scuttled across the room and whipped the door open. One of the boys from the lobby stood out in the hall, Wilkes behind him. He gave me a sheepish wave when our eyes met.

"Thank you," I said, digging out two gold sovereigns and dropping them into the boy's palm.

The boy bowed and disappeared, leaving Wilkes to stand awkwardly alone outside. He scuffed a heel on the floor, then said, "So, er...hello."

"Won't you...come in?" I opened the door wider and stepped aside, and Wilkes entered. Discreetly I took a sniff of the air as he passed: notes of bergamot, sandalwood, and mint.

"Lovely place you've got here," he said, looking around and rubbing the back of his neck.

"You think so?" I pushed the door closed and then followed him to the middle of the room. "It's very comfortable."

"At least you don't have to share with anyone..." He turned around, clearly startled to find me standing so close behind him. "Oh, sorry. Didn't see you."

"Sorry." I took a step back and ran into the post at the foot of the bed with my elbow. "I know you've got your personal space and everything..."

"Right." Wilkes tugged at his waistcoat, then fiddled with the pocket-watch chain across the front. "So...this book you mentioned?"

I untucked it from under my arm and handed it to him. I saw his brow furrow as he read the cover, and it stayed there as he slowly leafed through it. Then he took a couple steps backward and sat down heavily on the bench up against the footboard of the bed.

"This is mad," he said finally. "None of them have ever mentioned anything like this."

"I don't see why they would. They probably don't want anyone to know they dabble in the dark arts."

"Do you think...this is why Father wants me to earn the Sellings' favour?" Wilkes's voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "So they can blood-bind between the three of them?"

I shrugged and dug my hands deep in my trouser pockets. "Hard to say. But if your father is setting you on a path to hunter glory, whatever this is probably qualifies as another cog in the machine."

Wilkes shook his head, then brushed his hair out of his eyes with an impatient flick. "I'm not going to kill Giff. I don't care what Father wants. He was my best friend. Is my best friend."

"We'll avoid it at all costs if we can," I said. "Even if we have to stage another vampire kill."

At that he looked up at me, with mingled surprise and hope in his eyes. "Would that...could that work? Could we fool Father into thinking I've done it?"

"We could. But we'd have to send Gifford away. Which is difficult considering he's still a newborn and an apparent favourite of the parents of the King's Bench Family."

"So...we'd have to kidnap him," said Wilkes, running his hand through his hair in that way I found increasingly — but maddeningly — attractive. "Am I understanding that right?"

"Slow down, Wilkes. We're not trying anything that bold yet. This is probably weeks down the road. Your father's probably keeping a sharp eye out for anything that might move you according to his plan."

"You're saying all of this as if I have no choice in the matter." His brow furrowed again, and he tugged at his lapel and his starched shirt collar. "Cripes, is it stuffy in here, or is it just me?"

"I can open the window some more," I said, turning and crossing the room quickly so he couldn't see the blush that heated my cheeks and neck. "Nice breeze out tonight."

"Wells, I was thinking about what you said." His tone was timid. "Earlier. When you told me I'm not alone in my feelings. And...I'm still very confused, but...when I think about you, I'm not."

"What do you mean, exactly?" I asked without turning around.

He sighed heavily. "Naomi's intuition about me...she was right. She sensed I had no romantic feelings for her. Because...they're for you."

I spun around. "Wilkes, did you just...declare your feelings for me?"

He dropped his face into his hands, then bent double to bump his forehead into his knees. "I don't know, Wells. I'm so confused...I don't know what's happening to me..."

I crossed the room again to the bench and sat down next to him. "That's all right. You don't have to know now. And it is confusing, I understand. But it won't always feel like this. Promise."

He sat up, only to slump back against the footboard of the bed. "Then what's it supposed to feel like, then?"

"Different for everyone, Wilkes. It's not a cut-and-dry experience."

He said nothing for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. Then, suddenly, he lurched into me, wrapping his arms around my middle and burying his face in my chest. It shocked me at first, because I hadn't expected him to touch me at all. And I'd sensed us growing close, but not in this way. But something made me return his touch, laying one hand on his back and the other on his shoulder.

"Sorry." He pulled away suddenly, before I could fully get used to it. Then he was on his feet and across the room, glaring out the window. "I shouldn't have done that...I wasn't thinking..."

"It's all right," I said, glad that I sounded normal. But his touch had electrified every nerve, made me hyperaware of everything about him: the strength I'd felt in his arms, the softness of his hair as it brushed my chin, the way his clothes smelled faintly of a cold spring morning.

"Maybe I should just go," he said, rubbing the back of his head hard. "Then we'll talk about this some more back in London. See what Naomi thinks."

"Wilkes—" I stood, halfway out of my spot. I didn't want him to leave. Not when we'd been so close to a breakthrough on more than just one front.

"I'll go," he said decisively, even though he made no move to. "Make it back before midnight."

"You don't have to—" I swivelled on my heel to follow his route to the door. "Wilkes, if this is about earlier—"

"It's not," he said, stopping again, this time with his hand on the door handle. "I just need to go. I'll see you soon, Wells."

Then he opened the door and slipped out, and it clicked shut softly behind him.