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"Sir, I - I really must be going now."
Stephen took another step backwards as Mr Segundus advanced another towards him, head cocked to one side, eyes intently fixated on his face while Stephen's protestations were seemingly unheard, too consumed by the problem in need of a solution that he must see in front of him.
"Now," Mr Segundus continued his musings, oblivious, "if only I could remember the lore. A rose? Symbolic of... silence? Is that the usual method? Not in the corporeal world, I suppose. Perhaps there is something in the rumours..."
They were standing in the entrance hall of Starecross, Stephen in his travelling cloak and clutching his hat, his fingers gripping the brim rather tightly. Mr Segundus had come after him when he had taken his leave of Lady Pole, ostensibly to see him to the door, but it seemed his real motivation was to determine what it was that ailed him.
If Stephen was honest with himself, Mr Segundus made him uneasy, even before it became clear the gentleman could sense something of the spell that had descended upon him and Lady Pole. His natural perspicacity combined with the rumour that he was in fact a practical magician meant that Stephen was somewhat wary. Wary not only of what he might see, but what he might do. His own misfortune had only started after the meddling of another more famous magician currently residing in London.
Stephen was unused to being the subject of such concentration, and given his current trials, he did not wish anyone to study him too deeply, lest they unearth the truth of what plagued him and embroil themselves in the torment that he and the Lady Pole already suffered.
Mr Segundus was still peering at Stephen, standing closer than would be considered appropriate by society, muttering to himself. Stephen tried yet again: "Sir, I am sorry, but I cannot tarry here. I must return to Sir Walter as soon as possible. He is most anxious -"
Unhearing, Mr Segundus reached out and, with a gentle forefinger, traced Stephen's mouth. Stephen fell silent with shock, mouth agape slightly. Mr Segundus was looking steadily at his lips.
Stephen swallowed, feeling his face grow warm.
He was used to people staring at him, had grown up an object of interest, but the same people who were fascinated by his complexion were often also the ones who went out of their way to avoid brushing against him in the street.
He wasn't used to being touched. He was most definitely not used to being touched in such a gentle manner. Mr Segundus's fingers rested lightly at the corner of his mouth.
He tried to compose himself. "Sir, I do not think -"
Mr Segundus stepped in. Stephen found his feet most unwilling to move him back to a more sensible proximity.
"Perhaps something of the earth, of England. The Union Rose? No, something more of the people... the language of flowers?" Mr Segundus seemed to consider that for a long moment, before coming to a silent conclusion that made him nod his head ever so slightly. "It couldn't hurt," he whispered to himself. He swept his fingers lightly across Stephen's lips again before leaning in.
Stephen dropped his hat. He felt Mr Segundus's breath against his face and his own breath hitched in surprise just before Mr Segundus's mouth touched his own.
For a few moments, Stephen did not move. And in that time, Mr Segundus did not step away; if anything, he pressed on resolutely until Stephen plucked up the courage and moved his lips tentatively against Mr Segundus's, who tilted his head slightly and slid his fingertips to Stephen's cheek.
Stephen had never kissed anyone before. A far as he could tell, no one dared pursue him and he was unwilling himself to pursue any of the few women of his rank who did smile at him or talk kindly to him, for fear of their rejection. He found that, after the initial shock, and despite the fact he was almost as terrified as he was when in the company of his undesired benefactor, he liked it immensely.
Stephen was struck by the gentleness of Mr Segundus's ministrations, how soft his mouth was, how warm his breath, the tickling lightness of his hands as they traced the lines of his jaw.
It was wonderful and strange, to receive such tenderness from one who in the moments preceding had been so utterly focused on him that he barely seemed to notice he was there.
Mr Segundus pressed closer and Stephen found that their bodies were now nicely aligned. He made a noise, somewhere between pleasure and surprise, which he regretted immediately when Mr Segundus leapt back a pace.
For a long moment they stared at each other, Mr Segundus's eyes were wide and startled, looking for all the world as if he had been the one under an enchantment and it was Stephen who had broken it.
Stephen was sure he could hear his own heart beating.
Mr Segundus broke their shared gaze first, his eyes sliding sideways and a pretty red blush warming his cheeks.
"Forgive me," he said, sounding a little breathless.
"Sir..." Stephen began, but did not know how to continue.
Mr Segundus looked up briefly, took a breath, said "Farewell, Stephen. Please give our regards to Sir Walter," and then, all business, rushed from the hall, leaving Stephen stunned, his own face hot and his own breath seemingly stolen. He took a few seconds to attempt to compose himself, before hastily picking up his hat from where it fell, wrenching open the door and striding out to the waiting coach.