Content notes can be found here

So, if Peaches was a little blunt when she said, “So he wanted to repay you in kind?” it wasn’t something she could help.

Jean's look suggested he wasn’t following her.

“It means–”

“I know the meaning of those words, Monsieur Peach. But,” a shake of the head, “I do not think so. I know not what drove him. Yes, he was drunk, but then he is often. Still, for all my help, there was a... a carelessness to him, an abandon,” he said it like it was a French word, but she knew what it meant. “I do not believe that he knew what he said. I do not think that he meant it. But he kissed me, and he said... ah, what are those words he used last night? That he has the mouth of a gutter whore.” And Jean stroked Teddy’s cheek, tender, “He used words of that kind.”

“And you didn’t fancy it. I mean,” she corrected herself, “you didn’t want it.”

“Oh, no. I was, as I say, curious. But I did not want it like that. Not with the brandy in him so strongly, and his mind not knowing what his mouth was saying. I wanted…” He shook his head. “If I had wanted only to fuck a boy, we have... mollys?”

She nodded.

“We have mollys in France also. And others, too. But I do not like boys. It was only that this sad, beautiful thing that had come in to my life, only he had my... curiosity, my affection. I thought perhaps, that if he meant it, he would say such things another time.” Jean shrugged. “He never spoke of it again.  I did not mind, but still, I was curious. So, last night?” He smiled, “I thank you, Monsieur Peach, for your hospitality.”

“They’re Teddy’s rooms,” she said, and shrugged again.

“I didn’t proposition you,” came a muffled voice from the bedsheets, “I’d remember that.”

Peaches watched as Jean pinched Teddy’s ear, and kissed his cheek, “Ah, but you did, mon ami, and you are a very wicked boy to lie there, and listen to me speak of you without saying that you heard.”

“And I wasn’t that much of a mess, honestly.” He pulled himself up to sitting, twisting away from the grip on his ear like a schoolboy, “Lor’, we were foxed last night. Ah, my thighs.” And with that wince, he stretched, long and beautiful and shameless, as though did not notice that the pair of them were watching dry-mouthed. Almost idly, he rubbed his hand against his morning cockstand. “Peaches, you have to see that Jean here is a sentimental old bugger and he wants a story of true love crossed.”

“It is you, I believe, who have the credit of buggery.”

Teddy grinned, sharp and irrepressible, at once the swell who whirled her about the town and had paid her a month’s rent for an evening’s frolic just because he fancied it, rather the sweet, yielding thing he had been in her arms last night. “Fancying another round, are we? Well, I’m as happy as an erastes as an eromenos, if you catch my drift.” 

Peaches followed his meaning, even if she could never catch it when he slipped in to his learned cant.

Jean only laughed, “I have no desire to be your woman, Edward.”

She shook her head, “You’d need a prettier pair of dugs on you if you wanted that.”

“What did your man say, Edward? He has a most charming turn of phrase, but...”

“Peach mocks your naiveté, old man.”

“Ah, then I could merely not hear him over his impertinence.”

So much for Monsieur Peach.

“If there were any truth in that, I would never understand a word he said.”

She set her teeth. “Do you swells want breakfast, then? Or do you fancy some help dressing?”

“Have we made you sulk, Peaches?”

“What cause would I have for that, my Lord?” Her face was servant blank - she’d learned something in the last two years.

Teddy smiled at her. “You don’t like it when anyone makes a mistake about who’s master, do you?”

She shrugged, trying to be mollified, “Well, I got to keep some standards, ain’t I?” 

Oh, but it was no good. Yes, he was her swell, and he was her friend, and the cup of his affection poured over her in liberal doses, but he would never go willing into a bullet for her. She would never be enough. He wanted someone with proper breeding and a cold voice who didn’t notice what the lower orders were doing, not someone who counted about as much as the dust in the corners. 

He would never admit it, didn’t even know he thought it, but she’d met his precious Dickie, seen the way he’d so easily assumed that she was beneath him, that he would have the beating of her. 

Love taps. 

Those were words Teddy used when he had bruises on his face and his chest, when she had seen him with the high fever of recklessness in his eyes. But there was no love about it. Thornton didn’t think of Teddy any different than he did any of the other underlings he abused. He was simply too ready with his fists, with his threats, and his cutting words. She’d found that out for herself.

But that was what Teddy wanted. He wanted a real master, not some strumpet with a borrowed crop who could put on a cold voice and liked to watch a pretty boy squirm. It hurt to think how easily he opened himself to any touch of tenderness, of how much gratitude he would show at it.

No wonder he’d made a pass at Jean.

Just look at the man, with his spindle-shanks and his dull, kindly face. Oh, he was trim, and vigorous enough, but he had done nothing to earn the affection, had no qualities to merit it beyond that friendship.

And she meant nothing more to Teddy than Jean did.

However nice they spoke to her, whatever promises they made, she was never more than a game to these gents. She was, and would never be, anything more than a drab, anything more than the gutter whore they spoke of so slightingly. 

Peaches could not forget that cold dawn, the way Teddy had looked at Thornton, the way he had spoken – that quiet plea, man to man – even when he was supposed to be shooting the bleeder. 

He would never speak to her like that.

But Thornton was somewhere hiding up, running from the law, and he had none of the skills in avoiding it which Peaches had. 

Good luck to him, she thought, cruel. 

For she was the one wrapped in Teddy’s arms, she was the one he was kissing right now, neck and breasts, the one he was whispering sweet, apologetic things to. She kept her head high, mouth pursed and above his attentions. Jean was on the bed, crossing his legs to hide the swelling in his britches.

She said, “Getting an eyeful are you?”

“Your pardon, Monsieur Peach, but again, I do not follow you.”

I’ll say. 

But no. This man had never been anything but kind, and had she still been on the game, she could see him becoming one of her favourite johns – provided he paid his tab on time. 

“Sweet Peach,” said Teddy, pausing in his attentions, “could you stop haranguing my friends?”

“Oh, I get the impression he likes it. Bit of a whoremonger, ain’t he?”

He put a finger over her lips, so she bit it. Not too hard, but enough to make him take it away when she released it. 

“Yes, Jean has a taste for the company of discerning women,” Teddy said, mock humble, “and you are very astute to have noticed it.”

“Shut your mouth, Valance. Or, you know, don’t. Just do something useful with it.”

He moaned, lightly, “You’re insatiable.”

Well, there was a thought. 

“No,” she said, “though, I’ve got an idea, if you two fine gents fancy trying it.”