“You seem a little tense. Did the journey here cramp your joints?”
Code for relax. No one will ever buy this with you like that.
Josh worked up a smile and palmed his nape. “You know me and how easily I stiffen up.”
Mr West’s eyes twinkled. The rake out at play again? “I’ll have to find a way to relax you later.”
Definitely out at play.
Every second person kept looking at them.
Josh flustered. Had Ashling spread the word of their little Darcy and Elizabeth thing they supposedly loved to do? Oh, God.
It wasn’t enough he’d spilled the beans of their engagement? What did these people want!
How many masks was he supposed to wear this weekend?
Josh sweated and pulled at his necktie.
It’s okay. It’d be okay.
He raised his voice and prayed it didn’t shake. “Well, no one is perfect. Everyone has something wrong with them, some fault.”
Mr West blinked.
Was he . . . not following what was going on here?
Josh laughed. Hopefully not too manically. “I suppose you think my fault is to turn everything to an academic discussion?”
Great. He’d just unloaded his deepest insecurities to a room full of cosplay gentry in a fake Pride and Prejudice role-play he was supposedly enjoying with his fake fiancé. Reality was a far off, mythical place.
God, when could he get to bed?
Ashling, smiling at them rapt and misty-eyed, had Josh ploughing on. “Well, your fault is to make light of everything!”
Mr West was still staring at him. His cheek twitching into a dimple. Oh, now he gets it.
Josh’s hands shook. He needed a reprieve. He needed Miss Bingley offering to play the piano.
Well, Christ. He was playing all the parts right now anyway.
He jumped to his feet. “I believe we need a little music!”
He rushed over to the piano and riffled through the sheet music waiting there. Thank God for a decade of lessons. The facsimiles of hand transcriptions were probably beyond him, but there, at the bottom—a print copy of an extract from ‘Robin Adair’. Perfect. He’d played this before.
The room was mostly quiet chatter as he set his music on the stand, and he paused before beginning, fingers finding their places on the cool ivory keys.
Cassius’s drunken snicker carried from a nearby table. “He’s certainly no Darcy.” He raised his voice. “Play something we can dance to, Mary.”
Heat throbbed in his ears. He didn’t look up. He couldn’t. He glanced at the music, and played.
Note after note tinkled out of the piano; the page blurred and he messed up a few chords—
“Hard to play without someone to turn pages for you.” Mr West plucked at the paper, pretending to turn, and the lump in Josh’s throat thickened as he resumed his playing.
When it was at last over, Josh took Mr West’s offered hand hesitantly and jerked in surprise as electricity sparked.
Their eyes caught. He quickly rolled his shoulders, masking his reaction, and spoke loud enough the staff would overhear. “You have such fine eyes. Almost as fine as your face.”
Fine as your face?
Mr West arched a brow.
Had Josh even read Pride and Prejudice at all?
His chest deflated. He wanted to retire to his room. Forget this day ever happened.
Cassius and Wally strode between them and sat at the piano. Cassius tossed him a smug look. “Are you staying to listen? Or is it getting late for you?”
Outwardly, it was innocent. But the subtext burned.
He gritted his teeth. “The C key sticks.”
Chin high, he clutched Mr West’s arm and moved to join the Faro table.
Behind them, Cassius played a flawless Haydn sonata.
All quite exhausted, their intimate party—minus Ashling and Mr West, thank God—stumbled up the stairs towards their beds. The professor parted with them on the first landing, turning left; Cassius and a giggling Wally went right.
Josh continued to the next floor and followed the corridor to the last door, relief flooding him.
Mr West had tossed him fake swoony smiles the rest of the evening, and Josh couldn’t wait to flop onto his bed and groan-cry through his mortification—and genuine arousal—until he fell asleep.
Movement down the hall caught his attention, and Josh glimpsed Mr West striding down the corridor, all athletic, sexy grace, large hands plucking at his neck cloth and revealing a glimpse of his rose tattoo.
Josh hurriedly slipped inside, closing the door behind him with a long, relieved sigh and turning the key in the lock. The last thing he could handle just now was more conversation with Mr West. They were done for the night, and Mr West was clearly off duty. He looked ready to face-plant into the nearest soft landing.
He stared at the four-poster bed with its heavy floral blankets and matching hangings. A small double, but more than he had expected for a gentleman of his rank.
He drew off his shoes and flopped face-first into the pillows, starfished over the mattress. He moaned. “What are you doing, Joshua?”
“Good question.”
Josh shoved to his knees, heart hammering. “How did you get into my room?”
“I think that’s my line, actually.” Mr West leaned against the dresser, one foot crossing the other, and scrubbed his jaw. “Although I can guess.”
A stomach-jerking fear stole over him. “What?” Oh, but he knew. The wardrobe had seemed very full when he was dressing for dinner that evening.
“Ashling reassigned you to my room, so we could have this time together.”
“Oh God.” Josh scrambled off the bed and set about straightening it. “I’ll fix it.”
“And give away our little weekend deception?”
Josh slumped back to the bed. “Of all the muppets out there, I’m the biggest.”
West prowled across the floor, cheek dimpling. “We can make this work. No-one else needs to know what goes on in here. We can valet for each other.”
Josh narrowed his eyes at that dashing grin. “Did you—is this some sort of seduction plot?”
“No, this is just simpler.” Mr West spoke emphatically, gaze tightening. “We could do with some simplification of plots.”
Ah. The Pride and Prejudice bit.
He bowed his head. At this point his dignity had packed its valise anyway. “I panicked. I needed to come up with a reason you wouldn’t recognise me and the roleplay thing was what came to me. Looks like we’re stuck with it. Kinky, aren’t we?”
“I won’t lie, if you’re into it I can handle a bit of . . .” —those dark eyes glittered and dropped down Josh’s length, soaking him in— “plot complication.”
Damn these pants for making it impossible to act disinterested. Josh cleared his throat. “Let’s just . . . keep it simple.”
A smirk. “As you wish, Mr Fairfax.”
“Josh, please. We’re about to share a bed.”
“Well, Josh, you can ditch the mister. I’m just West. Frank West Ch—but I go by West.” Josh grasped his hand, allowing himself to be hauled to his feet. Their eyes locked and an echo of their earlier kiss coursed through him. He dropped his gaze to the rose tattoo climbing up West’s neck. Close. So close, Josh’s breath bounced back toward him.