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It was late when Peaches snuck back into the house with her latchkey and up the back stairs to Teddy’s room where she found him not yet asleep, idly tossing himself off, and – given the absence of a decanter – with an open bottle of brandy beside him. He was halfway gone on it, and only propped himself up on an elbow when she came in, smiling at her dazedly. 

It was quiet in the house, deathly so after the noise and stench of the gin palace.

“Good time?”

Peaches wiped a smudge of rouge off her cheek, “Needed a little release.”

“Well, a little death serves everyone, from time to time,” as if to drive the point home, he continued to massage his prick. She came and sat beside him, taking over, watching his sweet, shivering wince at the chill of her fingers. 

“You’ll never guess who I saw?”

“Enlighten me, my darling.”

“Pink Letty.”

“No,” Teddy laughed. “Did she recognise you?”

“Eventually.”

“And is she still...” he mimed in the air, tracing the shape of Letty’s generous, pale curves.

“Fine fettle,” Peaches said, remembering the ample flesh of her, the silk feeling of Letty’s thighs on her fingertips, the way her breasts had yielded to cruel fingers. They’d settled for gin and a tumble, in the end. Old time’s sake. 

“Oh,” it was a long sound of satisfaction, “I do miss you girls, sometimes. The proper old crowd. You should get her to come up one day, we can have ourselves a frolic.”

Peaches remembered how Letty had ranted against the way Teddy wasn’t playing her fair. 

“That might make things a bit awkward, my Lord,” she said.

“Oh?”

“Turns out our Lucas is a little sweet on her.”

Teddy choked on his mouthful of brandy, spraying it over his bare chest. She dipped a finger in it and licked it clean. 

“Lord,” he said, “Are all my servants whoring?”

“And after the example you set ‘em, too, my Lord.”

“Pink Letty, eh? Am I really paying Lucas that well?”

She flashed him a grin, “You always were generous.”

“Shameful,” he said, something which might have had more conviction if he hadn’t been sporting such an impressive cockstand.

With her wet fingertip, Peaches stroked the end of it in a slow circle. “It’s an important industry, my Lord. You’re just doing your civic duty by supporting it.”

“Where would I be without your wise council, Peach. Ah…” For a moment, he didn’t speak, then. “Oh, Lord, you stink of gin. And you know, I’ve always rather fancied that Lucas. Do you think he’d let us – ?”

“Don’t be cruel. He’s a country boy. They’re natural blushers.”

“And how would you know that, you unspeakable moll?”

“I was a country wench myself, back in the day.”

“Emphasis on the country?” he said, making the appropriate caress.

“Rake.”

They kissed. It went on for a long time, and she knew that, sweet as Letty’s mouth had been, how much like home it had felt to fumble about on rough sheets in a doss, there was nothing like this, nothing like Teddy’s stubble chafing her chin with the taste of brandy on his lips and his blue eyes bright with mischief.

The other girls always had called her a fool for him.

When at last, at long last, they were done and lying curled around each other, half under the sheets, with her livery was strewn all about the floor, he said, “Did I manage to spare you the wrath of the dreaded Hedge?”

She shrugged, “That man’d follow you to the Indies if he wanted…” she did the voice, “a word about your conduct, Henry Peach.”

“Ouch. Sorry.”

“He’s not especially happy with either of us,” and she glanced to where the statue of the little Greek fellow was back where he belonged, minus his fancy hat. 

“Be sure your sins will find you out, eh?”

“Something like that.”

“So, I’m to be married. Hoped to avoid all that.” He sighed. “What am I supposed to do with her, exactly?” And before she could give him a couple of pointers in what was normally expected following a wedding, he said, “I don’t mean that. Yes, she’s certainly worth a little exertion, but she cordially reviles me and,” he shook his head, “being on the wrong side of that temper, Peach, it stings.”

“Like I sting?”

“Nothing like so pleasant.”

“And what would my Lord say if I told him that he deserved it.”

He slapped an idle hand against her arse, barely making a sound, “I’d say you spoke out of turn, Henry Peach,” he drawled, every inch the toff.

She went in for another kiss, biting down on his full lower lip, hard, hearing him moan. “And I’d make you regret it.”

“Oh, do,” they snuggled deeper down into the bed. “Mmm. So, that's it then, eh? I've got myself a Countess.”

“So it seems.”

“Had to happen one day. It’s the problem with being a son and heir. Getting disinherited was a relief, if I’m honest. Still, I could do worse than the tempestuous Miss Tooting.”

“I look forward to watching.”

Teddy began to nod in a complaisant, tired manner, then, “Oh Lord.”

“What?”

“Oh sweet Christ.” He was sitting up now, slim and expressive in his horror, “I’ve got engaged and I haven’t told the mater.”

The what?

Something in her look must have told him she wasn’t following, because he said, “The elusive Lady Lucinda Valance, dowager of Westlehill. Or, more affectionately, dear mama.”

“I thought your mother was dead.” 

She had never, never been able to keep his bloody family straight in her mind.

“No. No. Only, we had to put that about, you see. Dreadful scandal.”

Peaches closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.  “You saying she ain’t dead?”

“Only to polite society,” he admitted. “And I have to say, polite society finds it something of a relief.”