limp somewhat so again, I permitted this man to touch me. It was unusual to say the least, as my obsessive aversion to intimacy was ordinarily so severe that even my valet had learned to assist me in dressing without a glancing touch. I could not abide crowds, and even when attending church I left home at the last minute so I could be seated at the back or stand in the doorway if the service was particularly popular. Closeness to this strange man elicited a frisson of excitement. What was it about Cavell that made my skin sing, and not burn?
Awkwardly, I wrapped my arm around Sebastian’s slender waist and he gripped my shoulder. I set my mouth into a hard line as I did not want him to get any ideas. We shared a side glance and I saw the lopsided grin on his face. Immediately, I knew that pretending to be stoic was useless. My heart fluttered like I held a caged bird within, and my cheeks bloomed with heat. This man knew me in a way that all in my church saw as a sin. This man had kissed and licked me in places that I did not know I could obtain pleasure from. I should feel ashamed. I should fear for my immortal soul as this devil had returned to my life, flaunting temptation before my eyes. But as I held him warmly to my side I did not feel the wave of shame that usually followed when touching a stranger. What I felt was a rush of flighty pleasure, and like a child with a secret; I felt an impulsive need to laugh out loud. Cavell allowed me to take his weight and he pressed tenderly to my side. We loped up the staircase together to the communal bathroom with a bathtub.
My Georgian townhouse on Bedford Square is spacious and comfortable. There are a total of eight bedrooms. On the first floor, the master suite with adjoining private lounge and bathroom is mine. There is also a second bathroom on the same floor. I employ five servants. Mr. Wilkins, my houseman, retains private quarters in the basement. My valet, Mr. Troy sleeps on the second floor. Mrs. Twigg and the maids, Ann-Marie and Maud, keep rooms in the attic. Therefore, five bedrooms are available for guests. They remain unused for most of the year as the only guests I ever allow in my home are my sister Gracie, her husband Henry, and their brood of six children.
I left Cavell to bathe and I headed to my wardrobes seeking suitable garments for him to wear. He was close to my size and so I rummaged to find a navy Henry Poole suit that was of last season’s cut, a white linen shirt, a Robin’s-egg-blue cravat, thick woolen socks, and a pair black of leather John Lobb boots that were a little worn and had been set aside to be re-soled. They were nothing to compare with Cavell’s very distinctive Edwin Clapp boots, but as he was not wearing them for the Josiah disguise my old boots would have to suffice.
I left the garments on the couch in my lounge and after locking the adjoining door that led to my bedroom, I stood on the landing feeling a little lightheaded and perplexed at having an unexpected guest—and not just any guest. Even though I’d wished for it, I had not expected to see Sebastian Cavell again. Why had he appeared at my door? Not that I was complaining! But I remained confused as to how the man knew my address when I did not give it to him, and why the Josiah disguise was even necessary. Cavell had admitted during a previous conversation that he had been watching me for six months prior to our official meeting in Scotland and as of yet he had not explained his reasoning for doing so.
My profession as an auctioneer means that by nature I am quite the magpie. My home is filled with all kinds of curiosities, fine art, and silver that I purchase for myself rather than sell at my auction house. I retain two maids to ensure my collections remain dust-free through daily cleaning. The one collection my maids do not dust is of phallic art. I own a wondrous collection of ancient sculpted phalluses that remain hidden in a room secreted behind the bookcase in my bed-chamber. The room was once a dressing room and as