If Malachi wanted a quiet walk back to the room, then Arthur would let him have it. He didn’t have much to say, anyhow. Nothing that could risk being overheard, anyway.

Even if their shoulders brushed every now and then, or their elbows bumped each other’s, it was not enough. Arthur knew he’d just assured himself he didn’t need to be touched, but now that it was being denied him, he wanted it more.

“Nothing happened,” he answered quickly, just as quiet as his lover. The rest of his questions were ignored.

“In a moment or two, a servant is going to take me to Miriam’s room. Would you please follow behind? I’d rather not be alone with her again for very long if I can help it.”

Had Levi left the house, yet, Arthur wondered. Perhaps that was something he needed to make sure of before anything started; how inconvenient it would be, if he doubled back having forgotten something.

Arthur took a step closer to Malachi, but was careful not to crowd him against the wall. Not to touch him, even though he itched to do so.

His mouth opened, probably to ask about Levi or something else relevant to their evening plans, but before the words could formulate Arthur noticed the flush, high on Malachi’s cheeks. They did not indicate embarrassment or bashfulness in the slightest.

“Are you drunk?” is the question he ended up asking, voice raising in surprise. It was only at a normal volume now, but compared to their previous whispers it shocked even the man that spoke them.