Page 15 of A Spot of Tea and Sorcery: Vol. 6

A long silence followed. Then Luna spoke, all in a rush: “Bryony, I’m not going home with Officer Ward after the ball tonight.”

“Sure you’re not.” Bryony laughed outright, a deep, throaty sort of sound. “Honestly, Lunaloo, the guy gets you tickets to the absolute hottest shindig in this whole blasted-blazes city! What do youthinkhe’s going to be expecting afterwards?”

Luna didn’t answer. Nigel counted off his heartbeats, one after another.

“Come on, it’s not a bad thing!” Bryony continued encouragingly. “Ward’s a real sweetheart, and he’s that gone on you. I know you’re the kind of girl who likes things a bit more permanent before having your fun, but . . . you play your cards right, you could probably get that squared away too, if it’s what you really want. Ward strikes me as the settling-down sort, once he’s had a good time.”

“I . . . Oh, Bryony, I really don’t think . . .” Luna’s voice jumped in, then faded out, before ending all in a near-whispered rush, “Oh gods, maybe I should cancel?”

“Cancel?” Bryony barked. “Luna, if you cancel on that hunk, I swear, the girls at Mrs. Boggs’s will skin you alive! Why, they’re all positively seething with jealousy, and I’m seething right along with them. Seriously, girl, you go live it up tonight forallof us, or so help me!”

“It’s not like it’s even really a ballgown, Bryony.”

“Pshhh. Men don’t care about that kind of thing. You just hoist up what you’ve got, add a bit of shadow where it counts, make sure you bend over at every opportunity, and he’ll never notice any different.”

About that time, Nigel felt he’d had enough. Staggering into the kitchen, he shut the door firmly behind him and stood leaning against it for some minutes. His mind seemed to be simultaneously whirling and screeching to a complete halt, a strange state of duality of being, on the very edge of madness.

At last, he forced himself to drag a sharp breath through his teeth. Expelling it with a whisper, he said, “It’s not your business, Grimm. You’re her boss. Not her . . . her . . . anything else.”

His gaze lifted, coming to rest on that portion of the counter where the teapot had sat last night. Sat in a puddle of hot water, which he’d sloshed while attempting to prime the pot. And there was that tea towel, the one she’d grabbed to mop up his mess.Still dropped there. Where they’d left it. Left it forgotten and soaking up the water, while he’d pulled her close and . . .

Stomping across the kitchen, Nigel grabbed the kettle, slammed it onto the burner, and set about fixing tea with a force of will that was possibly too aggressive for teatime. His hands shook. Damn that severmist in his veins! How long would it take before it finally worked its way out? Because he wasn’t about to sit around tonight, thinking about Luna dancing with Ward, thinking about the possibility of hergoing home with Ward.No. He would find productive ways to fill the long, dark hours ahead. Like sorcerer-hunting. And bloody murder.

Too bad he’d wasted those precious drops of distilled Dire Matter on that flubbed transmatterportation spell last night. He had little enough left to his name, but no fear! He would be clever. He would be cunning. He would wring absolutely every possible ounce of power from each and every drop, crafting spells of such dark subtlety that his enemies would never—

“Mr. Grimm?”

Nigel, who was just reaching for a tea tin at the top of the shelf, startled. The tin fell, the lid popped open, and dark twists of tea leaves spilled across the counter. Nigel stared at it stupidly.

“Damn,” he whispered.

Then he turned and faced Luna, who stood in the kitchen doorway.

Her eyes went to the mess he’d made. Then to him. Then down again. Then dropped to her shoes, her cheeks pinking. “Um, I’m sorry to startle you,” she murmured. “Only, um, Bryony is leaving.”

“Oh, yes?”

“She, um. She asked to speak with you. Before she goes.”

Nigel’s heart hitched with alarm. “Why?”

Luna shot him a swift look. “How should I know?” Stepping into the kitchen, she made her way to the counter and took the half-empty tea tin from his hands. For a moment, she was close enough for him to inhale the intoxicating scent of vanilla and honeysuckle lingering in the limp strands of her hair. He briefly closed his eyes.

“Were you making tea?” she murmured.

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I . . . I thought perhaps . . . It’s two o’clock, you know.” The words came out so thick, so rough, he struggled to form them at all. Standing here, so close to her, all he could think about was how, not even twenty-four hours ago, they’d stood in almost this exact same place. Only she’d been in his arms then, and those delicious lips of hers were responding to his with such eagerness, and that sweet throat of hers was vibrating with the most delightful whimpers, and . . .

“Yes,” she said, breaking through the fog in his head. “It’s a good thought. I’ll take care of it. If you’ll just, um, see Bryony off, will you?”

“Oh. Right.” He lingered a moment longer. But she didn’t turn to him, didn’t look at him. She simply went on brushing the spilled tea leaves into her hand and dumping them in the wastebin. As though he wasn’t there. And what was he going to do anyway? Grab her and kiss her again? When his apology for having done just that hadn’t even cooled on his tongue?

Turning abruptly, Nigel marched back out into the shop. Bryony was there still, leaning against the counter, and she turned to watch his approach. Even with her winter coat on, she still managed to make that lean impressive.

“Well, Grimmsy,” she said by way of greeting as he stepped behind the counter.

“Miss Braithwait,” he answered stiffly.

Her mouth curved faintly. “Oh, come now, after everything we’ve been to each other, surely you can work up the nerve to call meBryony.”