May 5, 1894 — Minister's Residence, London
June, sometime. He had been doing his best not to think about it, and for the most part he'd been successful. There were plenty of other things to command his attention from work, and plenty of social obligations to fulfill when he did tear himself away from work. And, of course, his ongoing campaign to reach the other side of Thomasina's apparently limitless irritation with him. And there weren't many things to remind him; he hadn't heard from Sophia personally since they'd parted ways in December. He'd had to deal with ballet business in January, but since acquiring her shares of the ballet he'd taken a mostly hands-off role as a patron. But there were still moments where the thought bubbled up, while he was looking at a datebook or being told about some state affair scheduled for June, and he would think June, sometime, it's happening in June.
He hoped Sophia didn't do anything stupid and sentimental, like write him and tell him the baby's gender or its name. The less he knew about it, the better. He would have preferred not to have even known it was coming in June, but he'd already done the math — they both knew exactly which night had started this nightmare, in which encounter they'd been too sloppy — and he couldn't un-know it.
So a month, give or take. In some ways it would be over in a month; in other ways it would never be over at all and this would only be the start of the latest chapter.
"I've been thinking," he announced to Thomasina. Dinner had come and gone and the servants had cleared the plates, leaving them at a bare table with half-full glasses of wine. Oz walked his fingers along the rim of the cup. "About the future."
He hoped Sophia didn't do anything stupid and sentimental, like write him and tell him the baby's gender or its name. The less he knew about it, the better. He would have preferred not to have even known it was coming in June, but he'd already done the math — they both knew exactly which night had started this nightmare, in which encounter they'd been too sloppy — and he couldn't un-know it.
So a month, give or take. In some ways it would be over in a month; in other ways it would never be over at all and this would only be the start of the latest chapter.
"I've been thinking," he announced to Thomasina. Dinner had come and gone and the servants had cleared the plates, leaving them at a bare table with half-full glasses of wine. Oz walked his fingers along the rim of the cup. "About the future."
MJ is the light of my life <3