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the chatelaine and the fairest
Jun. 18th, 2022 07:19 pm"Will you be wanting the green or blue tonight, miss?"
Jamie looks away from the mirror and toward the subtle and well-dressed man going through his wardrobe. Thomas Jopson is capable of disappearing in plain sight when he wants to. The wizened are always a little weird and they're all so different. Jopson is wildly different than Sam, who is nothing like that creeper in the Autumn Court. But then, they all had different jobs that made them.
"Whatever you think is best," he answers as he stares into the mirror again. The creature looking back is effortlessly lovely, impeccably made up. Jamie doesn't need makeup to look that way, but the ritual of putting it on sometimes helps.
Thomas glances at his--well. Jamie isn't quite his, in the truest sense of the word. But he's in Thomas's care and that's close enough. He's such a young thing, and to Thomas it seems like he's always been young. Uncertain, fragile, and yet far more clever than he ever gives himself credit for. He blames the brewer. He's tried, in his ways, to suggest Jamie could certainly do better than Sam. Sam hardly appreciates the utter devotion Jamie shows him. He's scheming something, Thomas is sure of it. He just isn't sure what.
Suffice to say, the beauty sitting in front of the mirror looks forlorn tonight. Thomas is almost sure a party will cheer him up, if he can just get Jamie out the door.
"May I ask the occasion?"
Jamie sighs and sits back. "Florian is throwing a little gathering. He didn't invite the whole court, I can't imagine there will be more than forty or fifty people there. Cecily will be there. Cow."
Thomas hides a smile. Well, that sounds more like the Jamie he knows. He knows the woman in question. Cecily Everclear (he sincerely doubts that's her actual surname), newest initiate to the Spring Court and clearly an eager social climber. Thomas can't help but roll his eyes at the lack of art and subtly in her efforts, but apparently they are getting her somewhere if she's been invited to such a relatively small gathering.
"Well then, might I recommend the blue? It's got a bit of shine and it brings out the color of your eyes." As he speaks, Thomas retrieves the dress he's thinking of and lays it on the bed. Jamie turns away from the mirror, considering the dress as Thomas steps back to retrieve a selection of shoes he knows will go with it. "And you'll carry it off far better than she could."
"You always say the nicest things, Thomas," he says, lips curving into a smile. "Okay, the blue."
Jamie stands and slips out of his dressing gown. Thomas has seen him completely bare, and honestly, he's been naked in front of far more people than his valet. After a quick look at the dress in question, Jamie slips out of the camisole he's wearing and tosses it aside. He won't need it and the dress is strapless.
"You deserve to have nice things said." Thomas returns to the bed, lays out the chosen pairs of shoes, then picks up the dress so that he can help Jamie into it. He holds one of Jamie's hands to keep him balanced as he steps into a pair of black stilettos. "Will you be back tonight?"
"I don't know," he admits. "Will you stay, in case I am?"
If he stays, and if Jamie comes back tonight, Thomas knows he'll get all the details of the party and the gossip. The answer is easy.
"Of course."
Jamie leans close - he's a bit taller than Thomas with those heels on - and brushes a kiss to Thomas's cheek. He smells like the sea, honeysuckle, and thrift flowers. Thomas closes his eyes, just for a moment, and opens them again as his charge pulls away. A gloved hand brushes his cheek.
"I'll see you later, Thomas."
He turns to watch as Jamie leaves, looking elegant and effortless. "Good luck, miss," he whispers as Jamie disappears down the hall. He'll do well, Thomas is certain of it. He's brighter than Cecily, more charming, and knows far better how to use his charms. He'll be fine.
Thomas huffs a quiet sigh as he looks around the room. Clothes are strewn everywhere, so he gets to work picking up and putting away things that can be put away while also making a pile for the laundry. Most of Jamie's clothes require extra care, so he tends all the handwashing himself. He makes a mental note to stop by the drycleaner to pick up the last order and drop off another.
Once the clothes are taken care of, he changes the linen on Jamie's bed. He knows for a fact Cade was here last night (he sleeps next door and the walls aren't so thick that he didn't hear) and he hasn't had a chance to do this all day. Better Cade than Sam, if anyone asks him. The stag might be a horny beast but at least his affection for Jamie seems sincere, his devotion true. Thomas can tolerate that.
A book falls into the floor as he pulls up the fitted sheet. Thomas picks it up and he can't help a small smile when he sees it's a battered little book of poetry. Rossetti. He sets it gently on the nightstand, then resumes his work.
By the time he leaves the room, the bed is made, the floor is clear, and he's left the light on the nightstand on. Good. He'll leave his door open so he'll hear if and when Jamie comes back. And he'll leave his phone nearby, in case his charge actually calls. He steps out into the hall and closes the door behind him--And jumps when the shadows move. Thomas manages not to scowl, but he does shoot an utterly withering look at Delaney as the darkling appears.
"Are you lurking for a reason?" he asks. He stays right where he is in front of Jamie's door. He doesn't like Sam, but he dislikes Delaney even more. The darkling is practically Sam's shadow and Thomas doesn't like the idea that he's been skulking around Jamie's room.
"Still changing his sheets smelling of sex and sweat, Jopson?"
"With pleasure," Thomas answers with a smile that has nothing kind in it. "What do you want?"
"Oh, just looking around."
"May I suggest you look around elsewhere? He doesn't keep a diary, you won't find his secrets in there."
Delaney steps closer and Thomas ignores the shudder that runs down his back. The darkling draws up to look him in the eye.
"No," he hisses. "All his little secrets are up here, aren't they?" As he speaks, Delaney taps cold, sharp fingertips against Thomas's temple. Thomas knocks his hand away. His smile hasn't wavered.
"You'll never know. Go on."
He's somewhat gratified by the sour look Delaney gives him before slinking back down the corridor. He seems to disappear down the stairs, but it's hard to tell once he's in the shadows. Thomas exhales slowly. Now he'll definitely leave his door open. Nasty, simpering creature. Even if there's nothing to find in there other than lingerie and perfume, Thomas doesn't like the idea of Delaney, of all people, pawing through any of it. He debates whether or not to bring it up to Jamie. Maybe Quick or Cade, they both seem invested in Jamie's contentment and safety. Maybe he should speak to Sam directly, though he knows Jamie won't be happy if word of such a conversation got back to him.
Damnit.
Thomas sighs and ducks into his room to deposit Jamie's laundry. Then he drags his little armchair closer to the door, picks up a book, and settles in. He has a good view of Jamie's door and he's within earshot of the stairs. It's not the most comfortable place to pass some hours, but it could be worse.
Jamie looks away from the mirror and toward the subtle and well-dressed man going through his wardrobe. Thomas Jopson is capable of disappearing in plain sight when he wants to. The wizened are always a little weird and they're all so different. Jopson is wildly different than Sam, who is nothing like that creeper in the Autumn Court. But then, they all had different jobs that made them.
"Whatever you think is best," he answers as he stares into the mirror again. The creature looking back is effortlessly lovely, impeccably made up. Jamie doesn't need makeup to look that way, but the ritual of putting it on sometimes helps.
Thomas glances at his--well. Jamie isn't quite his, in the truest sense of the word. But he's in Thomas's care and that's close enough. He's such a young thing, and to Thomas it seems like he's always been young. Uncertain, fragile, and yet far more clever than he ever gives himself credit for. He blames the brewer. He's tried, in his ways, to suggest Jamie could certainly do better than Sam. Sam hardly appreciates the utter devotion Jamie shows him. He's scheming something, Thomas is sure of it. He just isn't sure what.
Suffice to say, the beauty sitting in front of the mirror looks forlorn tonight. Thomas is almost sure a party will cheer him up, if he can just get Jamie out the door.
"May I ask the occasion?"
Jamie sighs and sits back. "Florian is throwing a little gathering. He didn't invite the whole court, I can't imagine there will be more than forty or fifty people there. Cecily will be there. Cow."
Thomas hides a smile. Well, that sounds more like the Jamie he knows. He knows the woman in question. Cecily Everclear (he sincerely doubts that's her actual surname), newest initiate to the Spring Court and clearly an eager social climber. Thomas can't help but roll his eyes at the lack of art and subtly in her efforts, but apparently they are getting her somewhere if she's been invited to such a relatively small gathering.
"Well then, might I recommend the blue? It's got a bit of shine and it brings out the color of your eyes." As he speaks, Thomas retrieves the dress he's thinking of and lays it on the bed. Jamie turns away from the mirror, considering the dress as Thomas steps back to retrieve a selection of shoes he knows will go with it. "And you'll carry it off far better than she could."
"You always say the nicest things, Thomas," he says, lips curving into a smile. "Okay, the blue."
Jamie stands and slips out of his dressing gown. Thomas has seen him completely bare, and honestly, he's been naked in front of far more people than his valet. After a quick look at the dress in question, Jamie slips out of the camisole he's wearing and tosses it aside. He won't need it and the dress is strapless.
"You deserve to have nice things said." Thomas returns to the bed, lays out the chosen pairs of shoes, then picks up the dress so that he can help Jamie into it. He holds one of Jamie's hands to keep him balanced as he steps into a pair of black stilettos. "Will you be back tonight?"
"I don't know," he admits. "Will you stay, in case I am?"
If he stays, and if Jamie comes back tonight, Thomas knows he'll get all the details of the party and the gossip. The answer is easy.
"Of course."
Jamie leans close - he's a bit taller than Thomas with those heels on - and brushes a kiss to Thomas's cheek. He smells like the sea, honeysuckle, and thrift flowers. Thomas closes his eyes, just for a moment, and opens them again as his charge pulls away. A gloved hand brushes his cheek.
"I'll see you later, Thomas."
He turns to watch as Jamie leaves, looking elegant and effortless. "Good luck, miss," he whispers as Jamie disappears down the hall. He'll do well, Thomas is certain of it. He's brighter than Cecily, more charming, and knows far better how to use his charms. He'll be fine.
Thomas huffs a quiet sigh as he looks around the room. Clothes are strewn everywhere, so he gets to work picking up and putting away things that can be put away while also making a pile for the laundry. Most of Jamie's clothes require extra care, so he tends all the handwashing himself. He makes a mental note to stop by the drycleaner to pick up the last order and drop off another.
Once the clothes are taken care of, he changes the linen on Jamie's bed. He knows for a fact Cade was here last night (he sleeps next door and the walls aren't so thick that he didn't hear) and he hasn't had a chance to do this all day. Better Cade than Sam, if anyone asks him. The stag might be a horny beast but at least his affection for Jamie seems sincere, his devotion true. Thomas can tolerate that.
A book falls into the floor as he pulls up the fitted sheet. Thomas picks it up and he can't help a small smile when he sees it's a battered little book of poetry. Rossetti. He sets it gently on the nightstand, then resumes his work.
By the time he leaves the room, the bed is made, the floor is clear, and he's left the light on the nightstand on. Good. He'll leave his door open so he'll hear if and when Jamie comes back. And he'll leave his phone nearby, in case his charge actually calls. He steps out into the hall and closes the door behind him--And jumps when the shadows move. Thomas manages not to scowl, but he does shoot an utterly withering look at Delaney as the darkling appears.
"Are you lurking for a reason?" he asks. He stays right where he is in front of Jamie's door. He doesn't like Sam, but he dislikes Delaney even more. The darkling is practically Sam's shadow and Thomas doesn't like the idea that he's been skulking around Jamie's room.
"Still changing his sheets smelling of sex and sweat, Jopson?"
"With pleasure," Thomas answers with a smile that has nothing kind in it. "What do you want?"
"Oh, just looking around."
"May I suggest you look around elsewhere? He doesn't keep a diary, you won't find his secrets in there."
Delaney steps closer and Thomas ignores the shudder that runs down his back. The darkling draws up to look him in the eye.
"No," he hisses. "All his little secrets are up here, aren't they?" As he speaks, Delaney taps cold, sharp fingertips against Thomas's temple. Thomas knocks his hand away. His smile hasn't wavered.
"You'll never know. Go on."
He's somewhat gratified by the sour look Delaney gives him before slinking back down the corridor. He seems to disappear down the stairs, but it's hard to tell once he's in the shadows. Thomas exhales slowly. Now he'll definitely leave his door open. Nasty, simpering creature. Even if there's nothing to find in there other than lingerie and perfume, Thomas doesn't like the idea of Delaney, of all people, pawing through any of it. He debates whether or not to bring it up to Jamie. Maybe Quick or Cade, they both seem invested in Jamie's contentment and safety. Maybe he should speak to Sam directly, though he knows Jamie won't be happy if word of such a conversation got back to him.
Damnit.
Thomas sighs and ducks into his room to deposit Jamie's laundry. Then he drags his little armchair closer to the door, picks up a book, and settles in. He has a good view of Jamie's door and he's within earshot of the stairs. It's not the most comfortable place to pass some hours, but it could be worse.
