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ONE FOR SORROW Two for joy Three for a girl Four for a boy Five for silver Six for gold Seven for a secret never to be told Eight for a letter over the sea Nine for a lover as true as can be
everything. He could have all that if he lifted a finger, and if someone held a gun to his head to make him do it.
Polite soirees and elegant dinners with people whose achievement in life began and ended with birth held no appeal at all.
It was merely irritating that the boot was so firmly on the other foot, for once; that it was Crane waiting for Stephen to turn up on his own unpredictable schedule, knowing that he would offer no more than a lopsided, provocative smile as explanation for his absence.
The hunger for power makes the drive for money or sex look like a, a hobby
“Mr. Day didn’t turn up, then?” said Merrick, homing in on his thoughts as ever. “Been and gone.” “Came and went?” “Oh, shut up.”
“Cor, dear.” Merrick shook his head. “You have got it bad, ain’t you?” “Shut up.”
“So, what I’m saying is, you might think you’re treating someone as an equal, but you ain’t. Because, my lord earl, when you’re bigger and older and richer and all that and you’re naturally a domineering sod, maybe that person don’t feel equal, no matter what you might reckon.
“Earl Crane. Shouldn’t there be an ‘of’ in that?” “No. It’s like Earl Grey.” “The tea?” “The lord.”
“You didn’t ask me to do it.” He pulled away slightly. “You don’t owe me anything. It was my choice.” Crane heard the words from long ago that morning: I have to choose with the rest of my life in mind.
“This is typical of you, Steph,” said Dr. Gold bitterly. “Typical. Of course you can’t just be unnatural like everyone else. Go on, get this overgrown magic lantern out of my way, this is a surgery, not a circus. Out!”
“That’s the Hawkes and Cheney suit!” said Merrick, outraged. “I’ll never get that stain out.” “I’ll bleed more carefully next time,”
“Since when did you talk to the law?” demanded Leonora in Shanghainese. “Since his nobility’s been fucking it,” Merrick returned. “You want the shortarse on your side.”
“I like to make you know your master,” Crane said. “It’s only fair. The rest of the time, you’ve got me so thoroughly enslaved, I might as well be wearing a collar with your name on it.”
My life changed four months ago, and I utterly failed to understand that until just recently, and therefore...I may have omitted to tell you that I love you.” He took a breath. “That’s all.”
I’m pathetic. You know perfectly well that I’m all yours, Lucien, or you should. I’ve got your tattoo, for heaven’s sake. I’m marked for life. And I’m scared by that, I’m terrified.
Oh, hellfire. I love you, Lucien. It wouldn’t be so nerve-wracking if I didn’t.”
“God, sweet boy. I love you. I think I need to say that quite a lot.” “Any time.” Stephen’s voice was a little shaky, his eyes bright.
“You look like the cat that swallowed the cream,” Stephen said softly. “That comes later. Here’s the dining room.”
What he really wanted to think about was whether Stephen would agree to move his home to Crane’s rooms in the Strand, but under the circumstances that felt like tempting fate.
I am the Magpie Lord, he insisted to himself, through Xan’s screams. We are the Magpie Lord. Let them fly, Stephen, fly with them, and get this monster out of my mind!
“Everyone can do evil. Some people can be forced to it, and some fight against it, and some don’t even need an invitation.
“I beg to differ. Christ, Stephen. Come home with me, and this time, don’t leave.”
“That’s giving me ideas.” Stephen’s eyes widened. “Not in a church, Lucien.” “I’ll have ideas anywhere I damned well please.”
