Daughter on his Doorstep (HC #2)

24: Dawn Conversation Lifetime

As the sun dawned on London, the streets began to flood with those off to begin their work, making it increasingly difficult for Vincent to rush back to the Humphrey townhouse. Matt sat across from him in the cabin, his head resting back as he feigned sleep. If Vincent had been less distracted, he might have noticed the slight crack between his brother's lids from which he watched Vincent fidget uncomfortably in the carriage, or perhaps remark on how suddenly the man 'wakened' when the vehicle finally pulled to a stop.

Almost instantly, Vincent flung open the door and dismounted, trotting up the few steps to the front door and pressing his way hurriedly inside. He ignored the butler and the footman he was lecturing in muted tones, and moved intentionally towards the closest common space; the study. It was, he reasoned, the most likely space his brothers and Thomas would have retreated to following the events of the evening.

He opened the door, and froze. He was correct – all three men were in the room, seated in armchairs with steaming cups of tea – but he had not formulated more of a plan than finding Thomas. Their gazes connected, the surprise in Thomas' eyes giving way to tension in his jaw as he deliberately looked away and took a painful gulp of tea. Vincent watched him unwaveringly; they were in dire need of a conversation.

Vincent's awkward hovering was disrupted almost immediately as Matt collided with him. There were grunts of surprise and pain from both parties, and the younger brother stepped into the room, vigorously rubbing his forehead.

"May I formally request," he said, bee-lining for the rum, "That no more excitement happens before dawn?"

Either he was oblivious to the stares of his eldest brothers – one a glare, the other accompanied by a resigned shake of a head – or a lifetime of ignoring their censure was paying off. He poured a small draught, threw it back, and then poured another couple of fingers before finding a chaise to collapse onto.

Simon nodded, taking a sip of his tea. "I do think we've earned a break. Particularly the two of you." He dipped his head towards Thomas and Vincent, but looked away before he noticed the heat rise in his brother's cheeks.

"I arranged food and lodging for the women for the next little while. I thought once you've had some sleep that you might want to take Lupe to them and see what they'd like to happen next. We could arrange passage back to Spain for them, I suppose, or find them work here?" He ran a hand across his eyes. "But those are decisions that can be made on more sleep."

To Vincent, sleep was not the priority, but he was grateful that Simon had sorted the things that were beyond him in that moment. All he needed was to speak with Thomas in private.

Thomas cleared his throat, more from necessity than to draw the attention of the room though it did accomplish that. "On that note, gentlemen," he said, setting his teacup down on the end table and pushing himself to his feet. His charming smile was fixed firmly in place. "I'd best be off."

Vincent stiffened as his brothers acknowledged him with dips of their head and wished him good sleep.

"I wasn't aware you had a place in London," Matthew commented lightly, "Given how many nights you stayed here." He took a small sip of his drink.

Thomas ignored him. His eyes, which seemed to have already travelled every corner of the room, came to rest on Vincent. His practiced smile faded a little, the emotion in his eyes darkening, but if he meant to convey some hidden message, Vincent didn't know what it was. Thomas dipped his head slightly. "Vincent."

He'd taken a step before Vincent could even process the goodbye.

A second as he called after him. "Thomas..."