“Darling, you need to be in here,” Arthur said quietly. “It’s far more private. If you’re downstairs with the men on staff and Zhang drops in, they’ll hear you talking to him. Doesn’t do us any good for me to have privacy; I can’t see Zhang if I’m standing in him.”

“But you’re too nice for a basement,” Rory said, almost whining.

“I am not too nice for a basement, especially not Wesley’s basement, which are actually quite fine quarters. And I like knowing you’re in the nicer room for a change.” There was no staff to be seen, so Arthur took Rory’s face in his hands and kissed his forehead where his brows were still furrowed together. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll sneak up here every night.”

Rory scoffed. “Oh, we’re really gonna get up to that when your ex is down the hall?”

“You don’t want to fuck me in his house?”

Rory nearly choked. “Jerk,” he muttered, belying the insult as he stood up on his toes to kiss Arthur right on the lips.

After a week with a bed about the size of a pencil case, Arthur would have liked to push Rory right down on the very convenient mattress that would actually fit them both. Instead, he made himself pull back. “Get settled,” he said. “If Wes is still keeping his old schedule, dinner will be in the dining room in probably about an hour.”

Rory sighed. He looked around the room again, gaze lingering on the carved posters of the bed. “Why would he put up with you chewing him out and me in his swanky guest room when he could have foisted us on a hotel?”

Arthur shrugged helplessly. “I’m afraid I’m still terribly American when it comes to understanding the aristocracy. Perhaps his manners can’t tolerate the thought.”

As he walked out of the still-open door, he found Wesley standing impatiently on the landing. “Well, you dote on him, don’t you?”

Arthur huffed. “Why were you watching us?”

“I wasn’t watching you, I was waiting for you,” Wesley snapped, which was a fair point.

Arthur folded his arms. “I don’t actually know where my basement room is. Are you showing me or do we need to exchange several rounds of insults first?”

“Who’s insulting you?” Wesley said testily. “I’ve never seen you happier.” He turned before Arthur could say anything else. “This way.”

Chapter Thirteen

Rory knew a lot less about aristocracy than Arthur, but he could guess you probably weren’t supposed to show up to dinner in the same clothes you’d just worn to sail across the Atlantic, and went to clean up. Lord Fine turned out to have a shower even nicer than Arthur’s. Rory meant to just rinse off but instead lingered under the spray, getting his thoughts in order.