“A veterans’ event at the British Museum,” said Lord Fine. “I don’t have a plus one and they would be delighted if I brought along an American lieutenant.” He glanced at Arthur. “Are you going to congratulate me for being extremely polite and not mentioning that I can’t invite your fellow because he was in nappies while we were at war?”

“Oy,” Rory said testily. “I wasn’t a baby—”

“England went to war when I was twenty-one.” Lord Fine stooped down so he was eye level with Rory and added, saccharine-sweet, “How old were you in 1914, duck? Twelve? Thirteen?”

Rory made a face. “Nine.”

“Nine?” Lord Fine straightened, looking scandalized. “Christ, Arthur, did you leave my house and go straight to a nursery?”

Arthur groaned. “I did not, at any point, actually go looking for a twenty-year-old—”

“Twenty-one now, thanks,” Rory said irritably.

“Oh, twenty-one,” Lord Fine repeated. “Aren’t you precious and grown up.”

“You’re supposed to be polite,” Arthur said, as the footman entered.

Rory didn’t talk much at dinner. The food was good and he was tired and in a strange place, so he quietly ate as Arthur and Lord Fine caught up about Arthur’s family and Lord Fine’s friends. Rory could read between the lines, and it was becoming clear that Lord Fine’s friends were mostly other people with titles that he didn’t seem enthusiastic to talk about, and that he didn’t have family beyond some distant cousins.

Rory reluctantly felt a pang of empathy. Maybe it wasn’t just manners that brought Lord Fine back from the countryside to insist Rory and Arthur stay with him.

Lord Fine offered a nightcap after dinner. “Nah,” said Rory, because one experience with losing control of his magic thanks to booze was enough. He wasn’t eager to find out what he might try to do with the wind if he drank. “You two go.”

Arthur and Lord Fine both looked at him in surprise. “You don’t mind us drinking alone together?” Lord Fine asked.

Arthur met Rory’s gaze questioningly, and okay, maybe Rory deserved that, considering a couple months ago he’d nearly taken out the ceiling of Zhang’s library over Lord Fine’s stolen kiss. But Rory wasn’t going to keep Arthur from enjoying time with whoever he wanted. The idea that he might ever be that kind of jealous over Arthur made Rory squirm.

“I’m not Ace’s jailer.” Rory leaned forward, into Lord Fine’s space. “You just keep your lips off him.”

Lord Fine raised an eyebrow. “You’re so surprisingly brave sometimes. It makes one wonder what you’ve got to back it up. Are you a student of a fighting discipline?”

“He’s a man of many talents,” Arthur said hastily. “Wes, I’ll take that drink upstairs.”