The Only Gold (31 page)

Jonah noted the twitch of his lips. “I think you know already. Apart from my infatuation with Ames and….” He lowered his voice. “A trip to a city brothel when I was eighteen.”

The smile Reid had been fighting became full-blown. “You’ve been with a woman?”

“It did not progress to that,” Jonah said. “The proprietor of the place. He caught me alone and made advances.”

The smile vanished. “Forced himself on you?”

“Seduced me, really. The memory is rather elusive, but I think he hoped to make a friend of me. He wanted me to come back. And I don’t believe he would have hurt me, had I resisted. The thing of it….” He shook his head, his gaze fixed on the empty cup in front of him. “Part of me wanted to resist. But I also wanted—to know.”

“To know why you didn’t want to resist?” Despite his amusement, Reid’s tone was awash in sympathy. “Did you?”

“I understood I couldn’t afford to risk it again. Until….” Jonah looked at him. “Until you. Now, for my own sake, I can’t afford not to.”

He could see Reid knew the confession for the wholehearted offering it was. Still, there was the slightest hesitancy when Reid spoke. “Jo….”

“You travel a good deal,” Jonah said. “Your first week at the bank, Margaret had you pegged as a wanderer. So I understand….” He drew a steadying breath. “You did say you thought you might stay at Grandborough. If there is anything I may do to ensure it, you will let me know.”

“If anyone could ensure it….” Reid’s smile was quick, but he brushed a hand lightly over Jonah’s as he rose. “I’m going to visit a couple of old friends this evening, back ’round on James Street.”

Loneliness at the thought caught Jonah off guard, but he managed to hide it. “Yes?”

“Yes, and I expect they will keep me some time, so—”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He held out a hand, and Reid clasped it, sending him a grateful look.

“Tomorrow.”

When Reid had gone, Jonah lingered in the coffee shop. That the day had been wonderful only made the evening ahead seem endless and empty. Reid’s sudden leave-taking bothered him, and he wondered if his confession and entreaty to stay had been too much at once for a man who’d been hurt in the past. Perhaps it was only coincidence Reid had chosen that moment to go. But he might have said something earlier about having other plans.

Afternoon grayed into evening and Jonah, dispirited, took a cab home, hoping idle parlor chatter would distract him. And well it might have, had anyone been about. Upstairs, he lit a fire in the cold hearth and hung the blankets to dry. Crawling into bed with Gibbon’s Roman history to occupy his mind, he found his thoughts wandered to dwell in the hours of the day—all perfect but the last, which stayed a source of worry no matter how he tried to make sense of it. Reid had seemed little pleased at the prospect of an evening with old friends. Whatever troubles haunted him had all returned at once as he’d said goodnight. Jonah had seen it in his face.

Still pondering what it meant, Jonah fell asleep, only to be snapped awake by a low, insistent rap. His gaze was drawn to the window, but the sycamore’s branches were bare of late night visitors. He pulled on his dressing gown and cracked open the door. Edith, her vexed features thrown into high relief by the lamp in her hand, frowned only more deeply, as if he had awakened her instead of the other way around. She grasped the collar of her dressing gown, pulling it tight at the neck. “Jonah, this will not do.”

He hid his uneasiness behind a penitent smile. “I beg your pardon. What will not do?”

A thump on the stairs preceded Reid’s appearance, windblown and smiling. It was only when Jonah’s surprise had passed that he noticed the meandering gaze and unsteady stance.

Edith looked indignant. “Mr. Hylliard, I asked you to wait downstairs.”

“So you did.” Reid took off his hat and bowed. He started to return the hat to his head, then tucked it under his arm. “Still damp,” he said, with a grin at Jonah. He gripped the banister with a gloved hand, descended a step, then abruptly sat.

Edith’s brows knit. “Jonah—”

“I’m so sorry. I’ll take charge of him.”

Jonah got him on his feet and, guiding him to the bedroom door, pushed him through it. Reid staggered in obligingly and fell onto the bed.

Edith did not appear mollified. “I do allow for men’s foolish habits, Jonah, but I have a reputation to protect. As does he. You might remind him of that.”

“Yes, I will. Goodnight.”

Jonah
waited until she was no longer on the stairs before he slipped into the bedroom and shut the door. It appeared Reid had not wanted to return to a lonely room any more than he had. That—or, in his inebriated state, he’d given the cabbie the wrong address. Jonah took in the drowsy figure sprawled on his bed and couldn’t contain a smile. They had certainly become each other’s foolish habit. He bent to unbutton Reid’s coat. “I gather the evening was a success—”

Reid grabbed his arms, dragged him to the mattress, and pushed him onto his back. Jonah had barely an instant to catch his breath before Reid pressed ruthless lips on his jaw, his cheek, finally finding his mouth, covering and devouring it. Strong fingers threaded into Jonah’s hair, pushing away his glasses as the searching mouth dampened his cheek with kisses, brushed his brow, then found his mouth again. The kisses grew gentle and for one sweet moment, Reid’s lips rested on his. Jonah listened to Reid’s breathing calm in unison with his own, and he couldn’t bear to move. With clear reluctance, Reid drew back, to look at him in a most focused fashion.

“You’re sober,” Jonah said.

Reid grinned. “Half seas over.” He sat up and unbuttoned his coat. “Shall I send Edith some flowers?”

“An idea with merit.” Jonah sat up, still dazed. “It’s nearly one, you realize.”

“I know. And if I were sorry, I’d say so.” In the midst of removing his waistcoat, Reid looked up, a rebellious glint in his eye. “It was a hell of a dull evening. Not a blessed thing could have salvaged it.” He leaned over for another kiss. “Just that.” He rested his forehead against Jonah’s. “Decent of you to let me in, under the circumstances.”

“I can’t claim decency as a motivating factor.”

“That’s all right. I can’t, either.” Reid picked up the book Jonah had been reading. “You couldn’t sleep?”

Jonah rose to draw the shades. “That’s not an assessment of Gibbon, is it?”

“Gibbon’s a good old fellow. Sent me to sleep many a night.”

“Was that Francis’ doing?”

“For every dime novel, I had to read as many pages of history.” Reid, following him to the window, dropped onto the chaise and pulled Jonah down beside him. “I’ll admit Gibbon was more palatable than most. Fair-minded. Certainly where religion’s concerned.”

“A discussion of theology may be premature for us.” As Reid sought a tender place behind his ear, Jonah let out a soft breath. “Or moot altogether.”

“It’s not why I called at one in the morning.” Reid untied the dressing gown, dragging it off Jonah’s shoulders, and pushed up the hem of the nightshirt. Yielding to the dedicated effort to undress him, Jonah could not let go of his curiosity.

“Your friends wouldn’t put you up for the night?”

“They might have. They wouldn’t keep me warm, in the bargain.”

“But you enjoyed their company.”

“To an extent. Just not this one.” Reid let go of the nightshirt to lay a hand on Jonah’s cheek, turning his head to kiss him. The familiar light touch, as if Reid savored the anticipation of the kiss as thoroughly as the kiss itself—or savored waking Jonah’s inability to resist him. The palm on Jonah’s cheek became two, cradling his head as Reid’s lips parted his, wanting more.

Jonah basked in it for a wonderful moment before lingering worry made him draw back. “I would prefer the stumbling confession, myself.”

Surprise flared briefly in Reid’s eyes, giving way to curiosity as he leaned against the high arm of the chaise. “To what question?”

“Are you all right?”

“Why do you ask?”

Jonah sensed that was not intended to evade. “You’ve been troubled… and then this unexpected meeting with your friends tonight. I don’t know. It’s just that, until today, you’ve invited me along on your jaunts and….” Realizing he was the one making the stumbling confession again, Jonah stopped, withdrawing in embarrassment from the affectionate sparkle in Reid’s gaze. “I’m making too much of it.”

Reid pushed away from the cushion and leaned against Jonah’s shoulder. “The meeting tonight was more out of obligation than desire. I didn’t mention it this morning because I didn’t want to spoil the day.” He dropped back, drawing Jonah with him. “The time we have alone together, I want it safe. Our garden, barred from the world. We’re entitled to that much.”

Morning
was never as distant as desired—certainly not a Monday morning that required an early separation, with Reid returning home to dress, and Jonah sitting stolidly through breakfast as Edith reiterated the house rules, embellishing on them as she never had before. Full of overcooked biscuits and suppressed amusement, Jonah still reached the bank before Reid, to discover the exchanges in a state of neglect while tongues flew in rabid speculation over the safety of the deposit still six days away.

Another item of endless fascination was the additional night watchman the board had hired on Reid’s recommendation. Gil Charles, young but reassuringly eager, had managed to exert, after only two days, a positive influence on Liam Abbott—who, according to Helen’s report, had left that morning with a clear eye and steady step.

When Jonah related as much to Reid, he seemed unsurprised. “Gil gives him someone to talk to. It shortens the hours. In some cases, improves them beyond measure.”

Reid glanced up from his cluttered desk, taking Jonah in with an interest not remotely appropriate. Jonah smiled patiently. “Yes, well, I’m happy he’s keeping sober. It was really my only worry in regard to Saturday.”

“Good.” Reid’s joking tone had vanished. “I hope you’ll have no reason to worry on Saturday. Or once Saturday’s past.”

Something in his voice gave Jonah pause. “You’re afraid we’ll be robbed,” he said quietly.

“It’s a concern. But it’s one we’d better not dwell on, or we won’t get anything done this week.”

Despite his assertion, it was shiningly clear to Jonah that Reid’s worry grew with each day that passed. By Friday, he was preoccupied to the extent that all Jonah’s efforts to distract him were in vain. He hovered over the clerks through the exchange preparations, until Jonah settled him at the counter with bills to sign. “Shall I give Mr. Hammond the morning off and send you to the clearing house in his stead?”