Arthur leaned into Miriam’s cold touch, a shiver running down his spine.  He was grateful when her touch left, only to find his hand against her, now.  At least it wasn’t against her skin - just the high quality material of her corset.  He didn’t mind so much touching that, at least, and let his thumb run back and forth against it.

“Yes,” he breathed, “please.  That will work.”

Where better to put her to a permanent sleep than in her own room, in her own bed?

His hand trailed up one of the bones of the elegant corset, his touch light enough to just barely be felt through the fabric.

“I meant what I said earlier; you look stunning,” he said, looking into Miriam’s blue eyes.  They were as cold as her hands.  “But I think you’re a bit over dressed too.  Shall we have one more glass of wine, and then excuse ourselves?”

He needed a moment away from her.  Even if it was at the table, away from everyone else, he needed - distance.  And he needed Malachi.  Just to see him would be enough, anything to cleanse his pallet of this.