...As soon as the sun began to go down, Lewis slipped out of the house and rode into London on his horse. It was going to be dark soon, and he hoped to reach the city before sundown. He also hoped that Mason would be there waiting for him. Maybe Mason hadn’t taken his offer seriously; maybe he was afraid.

The streets were dark when he arrived. He got off his horse and walked, thinking he should hire a boy to lead him with a lantern. But he was feeling rather reckless tonight. Suddenly he spotted a lone figure at the end of the road, standing in front of the butcher’s stall.

“Mason?” he called uncertainly.

The figure walked toward him. “Lord Langley.”

“Lewis,” he said breathlessly. They were both face to face now. Mason was exactly as he imagined, blond, with the face of an angel. “I forgot the chessboard,” he muttered, his gaze never leaving Mason’s face.

“That’s all right,” Mason replied, his gaze fixed on Lewis as well. “I got the mud off my face.”

Lewis smiled. “I see that.” There was something about Mason, something almost surreal. “Who are you? Are you an angel?”

“What…what do you mean?” Mason laughed. “I’m hardly an angel.”

“You’re like a dream.”

Mason laughed again. “Have you been drinking?”

“No.” Lewis also laughed. “Do I seem drunk?”

“No. Where do you want…I mean, where—”

“Anywhere. It doesn’t matter where we go.” And he meant that. As long as Mason kept looking at him like that, the place was without importance.

“Let’s take a walk down by the river.”

“As you wish.”

They began to stroll slowly, side by side.

“You look different without the mud,” Lewis commented.

“Thanks a lot, smart ass.”

Lewis grinned. “Smart ass. I wasn’t aware that an ass had a brain.”

“Cute.”

“So, are you going to tell me why you talk so funny?”

“You talk funny, too, so there.”

Lewis laughed. “Touché.”

There was silence.

Mason patted the horse as they walked.

“I’ve been to many places,” Lewis said, “and I have never heard such English.”

“Not even at that posh university you went to?”

“Posh?”

“Fancy?”

“No, not even there. You’re not really a butcher, are you?”

“Does it show?”

“A little.”

“I do my best.”

“But why? You’re educated. I can tell. Why slaughter animals when you could do something better?”

“It’s a job, an honorable job.”

“Yes, it is. Is your family from the upper class? Did they cut you off as my father is threatening to do to me?”

“No.” Mason grinned. “Military.”

“Your father is a soldier.”

“Ah…an officer.”

Lewis stopped. “You are a mystery.”

“Do you like mysteries?” Mason stopped and tilted his head to one side, waiting for his answer.