He could give Astrid silence and make her suffer. Or he could be honorable and decent and kind. If he loved her, he could ease this saudade. Help her not long so intensely for their golden time.

He went to find Minor.

“I need to go to Montreal.”

“Business or pleasure?” Minor said.

“Both. I’ll handle business. You’re in charge of pleasure.”

So they went. Kennet made an appointment with deWrenne Atelier. He spent a pleasant morning with his distant cousins, the descendants of Anton deWrenne, who’d carved the fish fobs for the Old Bear’s watch chain. Kennet explained what he wanted, put down a deposit, and was told to return in two days.

Kennet then put himself in Minor’s hands, embracing a weekend of debauchery. Minor steered Kennet clear of the worst of Montreal’s underbelly, and kept the train from completely going off the tracks during the bacchanal of drinking, women and oblivion.

The bender was occasionally interrupted by moments of civility, such as a very nice dinner with Minor’s friends, a married couple, Guy and Natalie, and Natalie’s younger brother Pierre.

Guy and Natalie left after coffee and dessert, but Pierre lingered at the table for brandy and cigarettes. He sat quite close to Minor, and the air between them was thicker than smoke, but at last, a little sorrowfully, Pierre said goodnight and left the restaurant. A single backward glance over his shoulder and Minor raised a single index finger off his glass.

“You can go with him,” Kennet said. “I know my way back to the hotel.”

“Trying to get rid of me?”

“No. But I know you’re queer and you don’t have to dance around it.”

Minor snorted. “Goodness me, are you just discovering this?”

“Nah. I’ve known a while. I’ve only recently discovered how to bring it up.”

“Step one: get a few drinks in your belly.”

“Exactly.”

“Being pissed does oil the wheels of conversation.”

“So?”

Minor leveled a gaze at him, unfazed. “So?”

“You want to go with Pierre or not?”

“Not. Thank you for asking. Now finish your drink.”

“Yes, mother.” He took a long swallow and shivered at the burn. “So.”

“So?”

“Do you…have anybody?”

“I’ve had a lot of anybodies. But my Johnny MacIntyre hasn’t come along, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Does Major know?”

“He was first to know. Cripes, are you really this dumb, or are you pretending to be dense to help the conversation along?”

“I’m really this dumb.”

“Jesus.” Minor jiggled the ice in his glass and downed what liquid was left. “So as Marta would say, when did the penny drop?”

“First one dropped when you crawled into bed at three in the morning, smelling like aftershave. Brushing our teeth the next day, I noticed you had little bruises all over you. Shaped just like fingerprints.”