[ As he listens to her, it dawns on Jacob that for all the many thing he complains about, for all the things he has he has to suffer through, his father never tried to force him or Evie to marry anyone. There was no discussion of heirs and doing their duty to anything but the Creed.
He's never had to worry about any of this. Neither has Evie, he supposes. They've never had to worry that any marriage they have wouldn't be a love match and they'd have to have children with someone they couldn't stand.
He squeezes gently at her fingers, not to interupt the flow of her feelings but to ry and relay through such a small gesture that he's sorry. For all of it. For what her husbands had forced on her and what she'd had to endure. It's not right, any of it. But she's free now. ]
I think I'm happy. A little surprised but... happy. As long as you're safe and happy, that's what I want.
[ This isn't what he assumed they'd be discussing tonight after all. The paper lays open in front of them, almost forgotten after all of this. ]
You know... we should announce it. In the paper. Like Jack did, and maybe he'll choke on his tea. Sir Jacob Frye of Crawley and his young wife wish to announce that their first born is due... er.
[ He looks a little sheepish then, the grin a little apologetic.] Something like that. We'll play it his way.
[ She thinks Jacob might like the marriage market and despise it all at the same time. All those pretty boys and girls, lined up, trying to catch the eye of someone just like him. A young Sir, in the Queen's favour, handsome and strong. They'd fawn at his feet, just to talk to him. See if he'd steal a kiss so they could whisper to their friends about the Handsome and Daring Jacob Frye.
But if they tried to have him for more than a night, she'd have them by their throat for trying to keep him. Which was - a strange feeling. She'd never felt that sort of possessiveness. She'd work out what to do with it - later. For right now, it's so much easier to smile at him. His excited declaration. ]
He'll kill someone. [ Which is a joke, and isn't. But she's finally smiling, laughing at him. ] Five more months. By the way. You got me with child - four months ago.
[ And sometimes, despite what she is and how blunt she could be, she is still Lady Angel Darling, the daughter of a wealthy financier and Lord, who had tutors and dancing lessons and could sing at a pianoforte moderately well for polite company, who would never speak to a man directly in a ballroom without company and could turn her fan to signal everything she needed without ever lifting her eyes. That goes pink as rose bush tries to tell him, the more practical details. ] Do you remember that night? Mister Green... sent us that herb? The one for your poison darts?
[ Which wasn't how they'd used it. He said it produced a pleasurable tingly sensation and increased impulsivity, and if she was going to mix it for Jacob and the Rooks to use, she had to know the side effects. So she'd mixed it into a drink for her and Jacob - intent on observing their reactions.
Observe she had. A lot. Pleasurable sensation and increased impulsivity was an understatement. ] And you were - quite. Thorough. [ That was her mistake, Jacob didn't need help being impulsive and having no restraint. Especially not when all he wants was soft and giggling in front of him. Giggling so much she couldn't do sensible things like remind about certain things he should and should not do. ] Very Thorough. Several times. [ If she kept saying anything else she'd go so red she might faint so she clears her throat. ]
[ Thankfully for all concerned, Jacob had never been involved with any of that, and would never be. The Frye's had never been wealthy enough, or notable enough, to ever have been considered for such an event- Ethan was, after all, nothing more than a schoolmaster. Assassins tend to marry other assassins, to try to restrict the heartbreak, maybe, when a husband or a mother or a child is killed.
But he pushes thought thoughts away. This is different, none of this is the case, and nothing is going to keep him from being happy about the news. He still isn't sure he believes it, but perhaps it takes a while to sink in. He assumes she's known longer than he has.]
Four months?
[ Even before she speaks he's trying to work that back. God knows he's not great at dates and remembering when specific things happened but then she's there, reminding him. Oh yes, Henry's herbs. He can't help but grin, leaning back into the cushions on the bed and yes, he does look a little smug. But how can he fail to be smug, when she turns that beautiful shade of pink along her cheeks and describes it so very carefully, as if she's telling a maiden aunt. ]
You were as randy as a cat in heat, as I recall. There was one point I tried to stop and you pinned me to the bed for another twenty minutes.
[He's not going to take all the blame, after all, not when it takes two to waltz. And at this point he'll say anything to encourage a blush to glow a little brighter.]
Jacob. [ She hisses it almost petulantly, mortified, and as he leans back, she pushes at his shoulder as he sinks away. Not hard enough, if ever, to do him any damage, but certainly enough to send him towards the piles of pillows she insisted upon that he was already heading towards. ] It was not -
[ She is smiling, even if she's still steadily going pink, working it's way up to her ears. Oh, yes, she remembered it very well. She could barely deny it. Had crawled all over him and he'd had to do nothing much than touch her to send her shuddering against him. Giggling in fitful little bursts.
Giggles she's trying to keep out now. ]
- You just - looked - very handsome.
[ It's blurted out very quickly, and wasn't that always the problem? At odds with herself. She could whisper him all sorts of things, at the moment, terrible and warm into his ear. Of one simple truth, she looked at him and could barely help herself. Not when she thinks of the clever things he could do with his mouth and fingers, how good he looked doing it. But God forbid anyone to bring it up before or after the fact, the sort of things she'd say to him, and just him alone. Just like he looked now, and absently, one hand lifts, brushing against the bump on her stomach. Smoothing over it, now that his hand was gone, and the warmth left with it. Mapping out the shape as she had done every day since she'd been told. ] You always look so terribly handsome.
[ It's admitted, still pink, but she looks over him, and something in it, all the anxiety, the worry, and the far too visceral fear, goes. Just watching him, smiling to herself. A sensation that is so utterly profound for all that it is - stillness. Quiet. Listening to the train rock as it goes along, and the sound of his voice. ]
[ His reply is more to do with the gentle shove than it is about anything else, and he laughs as he sinks down into the cushions, reaching out to stroke gently up and down her back. In the light from the carriage lamps, and what little light comes in from the bright moon outside, she looks utterly wonderful. The flush in her cheeks, the brightness in her eyes, her lips pulled into that beautiful curve. She looks healthy, despite the fact these last few weeks she's been so tired, so sick.
But the acknowledgement of why seems to have had almost a miraculous effect. She looks so much different to the woman in white in met in that grey garden, which seems like a lifetime ago. ]
You were drugged. That explains the hallucinations.
[ He is teasing, he knows very well he's not the worst looking man in the world. But he also very much enjoys being told so, and the best way to be told so is normally to deny it.
Not that he cares too much if she says it again or not, gently moving his hand to her hip and shifting his own form, tucking himself against the vibrating wall of the carriage and trying to wordlessly invite her down with him. ]
[ She pushes up the bed a little, adjusting her skirts and petticoats before she followed him down. They were starting to get tight. Had to set them that little bit higher as to not dig in or get in her way now, as she worked. That, and the damn things just didn't stop riding up whenever she moved about.
But once it's sorted, she lays down next to him. Curling her leg through his, pressing against his side, propping her head up on her hand, so she could look down at him. Lifting her hand to tug on that wayward curl of hair that always seemed to escape when he pushed it back. Sliding it through her fingers. ]
The only thing I was hallucinating was thinking that if I spent that long in bed with you, admiring you so intimately, this somehow wouldn't happen. [ She shakes her head, all the same. ] But never about you. [ Well - ] That, and when you sprouted wings for a moment. That was... definitely different.
[ She trails her fingers against his cheek. Following the little scar in his brow. Following with her eyes, around his face, his cheeks, his nose, that little bump where his nose had broken at some distant point, the little dimple on his cheek. As much about appreciation as affirmation. He's here, he's real, and he is hers. ] I think it's going to take some time. To think about having... a baby. [ That was the truth of it, plainly and without much grief either way. ]
... But... [ She stops her sketching of his features, settling her hand flat against the curve of his cheek. ] ... I don't think I'd rather work this out, with anyone else. [ There's one thing, at least, that was a relief. ] And I am glad I don't have to pretend, to you or anyone else. Even if the whole train knows, and worked it out before either of us did.
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no subject
He's never had to worry about any of this. Neither has Evie, he supposes. They've never had to worry that any marriage they have wouldn't be a love match and they'd have to have children with someone they couldn't stand.
He squeezes gently at her fingers, not to interupt the flow of her feelings but to ry and relay through such a small gesture that he's sorry. For all of it. For what her husbands had forced on her and what she'd had to endure. It's not right, any of it. But she's free now. ]
I think I'm happy. A little surprised but... happy. As long as you're safe and happy, that's what I want.
[ This isn't what he assumed they'd be discussing tonight after all. The paper lays open in front of them, almost forgotten after all of this. ]
You know... we should announce it. In the paper. Like Jack did, and maybe he'll choke on his tea. Sir Jacob Frye of Crawley and his young wife wish to announce that their first born is due... er.
[ He looks a little sheepish then, the grin a little apologetic.] Something like that. We'll play it his way.
no subject
But if they tried to have him for more than a night, she'd have them by their throat for trying to keep him. Which was - a strange feeling. She'd never felt that sort of possessiveness. She'd work out what to do with it - later. For right now, it's so much easier to smile at him. His excited declaration. ]
He'll kill someone. [ Which is a joke, and isn't. But she's finally smiling, laughing at him. ] Five more months. By the way. You got me with child - four months ago.
[ And sometimes, despite what she is and how blunt she could be, she is still Lady Angel Darling, the daughter of a wealthy financier and Lord, who had tutors and dancing lessons and could sing at a pianoforte moderately well for polite company, who would never speak to a man directly in a ballroom without company and could turn her fan to signal everything she needed without ever lifting her eyes. That goes pink as rose bush tries to tell him, the more practical details. ] Do you remember that night? Mister Green... sent us that herb? The one for your poison darts?
[ Which wasn't how they'd used it. He said it produced a pleasurable tingly sensation and increased impulsivity, and if she was going to mix it for Jacob and the Rooks to use, she had to know the side effects. So she'd mixed it into a drink for her and Jacob - intent on observing their reactions.
Observe she had. A lot. Pleasurable sensation and increased impulsivity was an understatement. ] And you were - quite. Thorough. [ That was her mistake, Jacob didn't need help being impulsive and having no restraint. Especially not when all he wants was soft and giggling in front of him. Giggling so much she couldn't do sensible things like remind about certain things he should and should not do. ] Very Thorough. Several times. [ If she kept saying anything else she'd go so red she might faint so she clears her throat. ]
no subject
But he pushes thought thoughts away. This is different, none of this is the case, and nothing is going to keep him from being happy about the news. He still isn't sure he believes it, but perhaps it takes a while to sink in. He assumes she's known longer than he has.]
Four months?
[ Even before she speaks he's trying to work that back. God knows he's not great at dates and remembering when specific things happened but then she's there, reminding him. Oh yes, Henry's herbs. He can't help but grin, leaning back into the cushions on the bed and yes, he does look a little smug. But how can he fail to be smug, when she turns that beautiful shade of pink along her cheeks and describes it so very carefully, as if she's telling a maiden aunt. ]
You were as randy as a cat in heat, as I recall. There was one point I tried to stop and you pinned me to the bed for another twenty minutes.
[He's not going to take all the blame, after all, not when it takes two to waltz. And at this point he'll say anything to encourage a blush to glow a little brighter.]
no subject
[ She is smiling, even if she's still steadily going pink, working it's way up to her ears. Oh, yes, she remembered it very well. She could barely deny it. Had crawled all over him and he'd had to do nothing much than touch her to send her shuddering against him. Giggling in fitful little bursts.
Giggles she's trying to keep out now. ]
- You just - looked - very handsome.
[ It's blurted out very quickly, and wasn't that always the problem? At odds with herself. She could whisper him all sorts of things, at the moment, terrible and warm into his ear. Of one simple truth, she looked at him and could barely help herself. Not when she thinks of the clever things he could do with his mouth and fingers, how good he looked doing it. But God forbid anyone to bring it up before or after the fact, the sort of things she'd say to him, and just him alone. Just like he looked now, and absently, one hand lifts, brushing against the bump on her stomach. Smoothing over it, now that his hand was gone, and the warmth left with it. Mapping out the shape as she had done every day since she'd been told. ] You always look so terribly handsome.
[ It's admitted, still pink, but she looks over him, and something in it, all the anxiety, the worry, and the far too visceral fear, goes. Just watching him, smiling to herself. A sensation that is so utterly profound for all that it is - stillness. Quiet. Listening to the train rock as it goes along, and the sound of his voice. ]
no subject
[ His reply is more to do with the gentle shove than it is about anything else, and he laughs as he sinks down into the cushions, reaching out to stroke gently up and down her back. In the light from the carriage lamps, and what little light comes in from the bright moon outside, she looks utterly wonderful. The flush in her cheeks, the brightness in her eyes, her lips pulled into that beautiful curve. She looks healthy, despite the fact these last few weeks she's been so tired, so sick.
But the acknowledgement of why seems to have had almost a miraculous effect. She looks so much different to the woman in white in met in that grey garden, which seems like a lifetime ago. ]
You were drugged. That explains the hallucinations.
[ He is teasing, he knows very well he's not the worst looking man in the world. But he also very much enjoys being told so, and the best way to be told so is normally to deny it.
Not that he cares too much if she says it again or not, gently moving his hand to her hip and shifting his own form, tucking himself against the vibrating wall of the carriage and trying to wordlessly invite her down with him. ]
Do you feel better? About... all of it? The baby?
no subject
But once it's sorted, she lays down next to him. Curling her leg through his, pressing against his side, propping her head up on her hand, so she could look down at him. Lifting her hand to tug on that wayward curl of hair that always seemed to escape when he pushed it back. Sliding it through her fingers. ]
The only thing I was hallucinating was thinking that if I spent that long in bed with you, admiring you so intimately, this somehow wouldn't happen. [ She shakes her head, all the same. ] But never about you. [ Well - ] That, and when you sprouted wings for a moment. That was... definitely different.
[ She trails her fingers against his cheek. Following the little scar in his brow. Following with her eyes, around his face, his cheeks, his nose, that little bump where his nose had broken at some distant point, the little dimple on his cheek. As much about appreciation as affirmation. He's here, he's real, and he is hers. ] I think it's going to take some time. To think about having... a baby. [ That was the truth of it, plainly and without much grief either way. ]
... But... [ She stops her sketching of his features, settling her hand flat against the curve of his cheek. ] ... I don't think I'd rather work this out, with anyone else. [ There's one thing, at least, that was a relief. ] And I am glad I don't have to pretend, to you or anyone else. Even if the whole train knows, and worked it out before either of us did.
[ Kill her, honestly. ]