Velvet Petals, Piercing Thorns - Chapter Sixteen, Part One
Title: Velvet Petals, Piercing Thorns - Chapter Sixteen (Prologue+16/23)
Media: Fic
Author: a_glass_parade
Beta: mothergoddamn
Rating: Rated R to NC-17
Pairing: Klaine endgame, bumps along the way.
Genre: Romance, AU, Historical Fiction
Warnings: This is essentially a romance novel set in a violent time. There will be, throughout the story, sexual liaisons, murder, torture, sexual blackmail, and political incorrectness.
Spoilers: While events and references from both seasons of Glee may be adapted and worked into the story occasionally, it's otherwise fully AU.
Word Count: Story: 94,000+ (JESUS CHRIST) This Chapter: 6700+
Summary: England, 1484: The forces of Lancaster see Edward Blaine Anderson, Viscount Dalton, as key to their plans to retake and hold the throne of England. Allies of the House of York have come to the same conclusion and want to stop that from happening. Their secret weapon will be Kurt Hummel, stableman's son and reluctant spy.
Additional Notes: This is written in the vein of your typical historical romance novel with all the historical liberties taken that you'd expect. I do try to be as historically accurate as is feasible, though. There are some historical and some original characters that interact with the characters we know.
If you haven't read any of this before, you can start HERE to read it on LJ or HERE to read it on AO3.
“It's certainly lovely to see you again, Florian. It's been ever so long.” Amelia's tone was teasing as she combed her fingers through Kurt's hair. They were in the window seat of the music library as usual, Kurt with his head in Amelia's lap and his legs stretched up along the walls of the nook.
He batted her hand away, not even bothering to open his eyes as he did so. “You see me during the day. You're only put out because I put our night chats on hold for a bit. Blaine and I had to make up for lost time after his friends departed.”
“But five entire days?”
“We were making up for lost time yet to come, as well,” Kurt mumbled, prying open one eye to see her giggling down at him. “He's going to be busy again before we know it, and I'm in fighting lessons when I'm not teaching you...we just wanted to spend all the time we could together, which you know well isn't very much to start with, Amelia.”
“I do.” She sighed and pouted a bit. “But I like spending time with you, also, outside of lessons.”
He smiled before shutting his eye again. “I do, too, Amelia. We're going into Oxford soon, though, that will be a nice day excursion. And we can always go horseback riding, it's warm enough. We'll make time. Or rather, I will. Somehow.”
“I'm sure this job didn't seem quite so time consuming when you decided to try for it,” Amelia teased. “You probably thought you'd have plenty of free time.”
“I truly did,” Kurt admitted with rueful honesty. “How many hours a day can one sing, really? I actually thought I'd have a problem filling the remaining hours.”
“Then I am glad that you and Blaine are so compatible. I'd hate for you to sit with nothing to do, Papa would have questioned the need for you and anyway, idle hands are the devil's playground.”
He shifted and hummed a snatch of one of the chansons they'd been learning - with some trouble, given his lack of ability to speak French. Still, they muddled through, he reading the music and she reading the words. “I suppose I really should thank you for that, though you were embarrassingly heavyhanded about it.”
Amelia scoffed. “Neither of you would have gotten around to anything if I hadn't been. I regret nothing.”
“Amelia...” Her phrasing reminded him that he had questions, so many of them. He thought about how to ask the one that he wondered most about. “You go to Church. You know what they say about men such as Blaine and myself. Why did you want us together? You know they say it's wrong.”
She was silent for so long that he finally opened both eyes to see her gazing out the window, putting her thoughts together. “It's taken me a bit of time to come to the conclusion,” she eventually murmured, “But I decided in the end that...it's love that matters. I would rather foster efforts to put more love in the world than to frighten and condemn anyone. I love Blaine, he's my dearest friend and...well. I suppose I've always felt guilty about my part in ending his relationship with Thad.”
“What?” The revelation was a shock. He'd had no idea - though it did explain, he thought, why the valet took great pains to never be around him and often was openly snippy towards him. He'd wondered. “Thad?”
“They were very young, it was before Thad was Blaine's valet and assistant.” As Amelia spoke, her attention still focused on the view outside of the window, Kurt realized this must have been the relationship that Blaine had mentioned. The one affair he'd had before Kurt, the one that had ended badly. “The Baroness and I caught them, once. It was all very painful and embarrassing, none of us were terribly understanding, and when it was over, Blaine swore he never wanted to speak of it again.”
A chill went through Kurt as he realized just how close he'd come to forcing Blaine to relive that awful experience, and on a much more damaging scale. No matter the personal cost to himself at the end of all of this, he was glad he would end up sparing Blaine that. “Oh,” he replied lamely when he realized she was waiting for him to respond. “So I'm a sort of...penance for you?”
“No, you're a blessing,” she laughed, good humor returning as swiftly as it had gone. “And a dear friend of mine as well whom I'd also like to see happy. So you see, Florian, it all works out.”
“Except for the time aspect,” he pointed out. “Not enough hours in the day.”
Amelia pressed a kiss to her fingers and then touched them playfully to his nose. “That's why we have the night.”
“And I hope no one minds that I've come to intrude upon yours.” The pair of them shot identical looks of surprise at the door as Blaine poked his head into the room, a candle illuminating his journey to the window seat. “Hello, pretty,” he greeted Amelia, kissing her cheek. “I think you're where I want to be.”
She rolled her eyes and shoved herself further into the window nook while Kurt held up his head for Blaine to slip his legs in beneath it. When the men were arranged, Amelia tucked herself in under Blaine's arm. “There. Perfect. Hello, boys.”
Laughter rumbled in Blaine's chest, shaking both Amelia and Kurt. “You are something else, Amelia. It's good that I love you.”
“And I you,” she retorted. “You promised that I could have Florian tonight.”
“You do have him,” Blaine pointed out. “He's right here.”
Amelia huffed in annoyance. “I meant have him to myself and you know it. You are cheating, Blaine. Or using a loophole. Something. It's not fair, you've had him for days.”
He reached over to poke her in the side. “You're going to let me do it, too, since I'm allowing you two to yet again borrow one of my carriages to go into Oxford. At this rate, you're going to own everything that Master Puckerman stocks!”
Kurt decided to speak up. “Ignoring the fact that you're both squabbling over me as if I were a commodity rather than a person...we want to bring Rachel a present, Blaine. Didn't I tell you that they just found out she's going to have a baby? That's why she wasn't feeling well. They told Amelia only the other day, I'm sure I mentioned it.”
“You didn't, no.” Blaine frowned.
“You were likely preoccupied,” Amelia interjected sweetly. “Making up for lost time and whatnot.”
Both men closed their eyes and quietly flushed the same shade of crimson, leaving Amelia to look far too pleased at the results of her fun. Blaine poked her in the side again, harder this time. “Amelia, you are a pain in my backside. I don't have to let you use my carriage.”
“Yes, you do,” she protested. “Don't penalize Rachel simply because I like to tease. I'm almost done embroidering the bonnet and blanket for the baby. Besides, Florian's expecting another letter from his father.”
Blaine looked down at his lover in surprise. “So soon? Did you not just send your last one yesterday?”
“Your sense of time is warped from how much of it we've managed to spend together lately,” Kurt replied mildly as he sat up. Blaine pouted and moved to prop his arms on Kurt's knees, resting his chin atop them and making sheep's eyes at Kurt that he ignored as he continued. “I send one a week, there was the one I took into town when I picked up your music order, Blaine, and then one again five days ago before you began taking up all of my time.” He leaned his head down to give Blaine a quick kiss. “Not that I mind, of course. The point is, one should be waiting for me, and I want it.”
For all his blasé demeanor, however, Kurt was actually terrified and anxious to see if Jesse had sent him a response to his last letter. The first one that he'd intended to put out the fire of him threatening to visit had not placated the Steward at all, who had shot back with, You don't actually think I'm going to take you at your word that everything is fine? Not after I threatened to come up there? Honestly, Renner, if you think I was born yesterday then it is doubly imperative that I come to demonstrate otherwise.
So he'd had to send another one full of reasons and excuses why things were seemingly progressing at a snail's pace. His desperation to keep Jesse away from Blaine was rising like floodwater; only terrible things could happen if St. James came anywhere near Dalton. Kurt wasn't ready for it, hadn't figured out how - if - he was going to get all of them out of this safely, didn't know if Jesse would perhaps actually bring his father's fingers or something equally horrific.
It felt like everything was spiraling wildly out of control. He'd acknowledged when he decided to fight his seeming fate that there was a steep chance of failure. It now appeared that failure was guaranteed and God alone knew what the cost besides his father's life would be. His own life? Worse than that, Blaine's? God, please, no, Kurt begged whatever silent deity might listen.
“Florian?”
He jumped, bumping Blaine in the chin with his knees. Both his lover and his friend were frowning worriedly at him. “I'm sorry. What have I missed?”
“I was just saying goodnight, lover, and wondering if you wished to join me. Remember, we're in the salle tomorrow night for your lesson, you want sleep.” Blaine took his hand and squeezed. “Are you all right?”
“Just wit-wandering.” He knew the smile on his face was forced and raced for an explanation. “I'm a bit tired, I miss home, that's all.”
Blaine's smile was soft and affectionate. “I'm sure you must. Perhaps when things settle down, I can send you back to Wales for a few days. Only a few, though, I'll want you back.”
The kindness and...yes, he was nearly certain it was love in that offer, in that statement - it nearly unhinged Kurt. Don't fall in love with me, Blaine, don't, I'm nothing but disaster and pain and don't deserve you, I am going to get you hurt because I followed my heart instead of my head. I thought I knew what I was doing and now I can't work out how to repair the damage I've caused.
I think it's too late for me, but oh, please, save yourself...
He forced his smile wider. “I'd love to do that. Maybe one day I could take you with me? Or Amelia? You'd both love Wales, I think, we could study some of the local folk songs there, you could meet my father...”
As the three of them spun plans for a holiday that would never happen, Kurt felt the tension and worry drain away from the two people he could now acknowledge he loved most next to his father. But his own shoulders remained tight, his brain chaotic with fear, and later, when he lay curled up next to Blaine in bed, he slept - but uneasily, and his whimpers at the nightmares caused Blaine to hold him close and wonder what demons chased his lover in the night.
He could not know that one of the demons was himself, or the self that Kurt was sure Blaine would become if he ever found out the truth behind the existence of Florian Renner.
~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~
At Raglan Castle that same evening, Jesse St. James stared down at the letter in his hand, knowing his mouth was wide open in disbelief at the fact that he'd sent someone so entirely stupid to do such an important job.
Viscount Dalton has been very busy with a number of visitors, it has been difficult to get audience with him. I continue with my best efforts and hope for a final breakthrough soon.
Visitors.
Jesse would bet his mother's life that those visitors had to do with the war efforts he'd been trying to derail. Goddamn it, Hummel!
Shoving away from his desk, he barely felt the pop of Miss Lopez' mouth slipping off of his cock. He groped underneath to drag her up and shove her towards the door. “Get out,” he ordered as he haphazardly laced up his hose. When he had arranged at least a glancing nod at modesty, he looked up to see that she hadn't moved, and was opening her mouth to begin haranguing him in Spanish. He had no time for this. “Out! Get out, you pox riddled slattern, out!”
Judging by the murderous look on Santana's face, he was absolutely going to have to hire a food taster for the next sennight, but he didn't care. Nor did he care that if he wanted a bed partner, he would have to settle for the equally flexible but far less tempestuous Miss Pierce, which would take some of the fire out of the proceedings. Oh, hell, as if I'll have time to sleep with anyone now, he raged, pacing the room with his hands knotted into his hair. One more thing to punish Hummel for!
He'd underestimated Hummel's virginal reluctance. He'd thought for sure that the threat against his father's life would easily override any blushing maiden antics. Unless the idiot horseman had worked out that Jesse had never had any intention of harming Burt Hummel? Huntingdon had not wanted to know specifics of Jesse's plan, but he'd known of Burt's tangential, involuntary involvement from the beginning and had made his Steward swear to do no physical harm to his valued stablemaster.
The threat of bodily harm at the failure of the mission, however, was very real - specifically Kurt's bodily harm. Jesse had simply felt that the idea of torturing Burt would be a greater impetus for Kurt, who tended to be sickeningly selfless and more devoted to his father's welfare than seemed strictly normal to Jesse. So he'd lied to Kurt's face with nary a single regret. And it should have worked.
Jesse seethed as he paced. Maybe it had worked and that wasn't the problem at all. Whatever the case, he was most certainly going to have to go to Oxford to correct it. He needed to know with precision just how wrong it had all gone and how much damage control he would have to do. Once again, he cursed his inability to infiltrate spies into Dalton House, spies who might have been able to tell him the exact nature of the meeting. He had no way of knowing how far down the primrose path of rebellion the Lancastrians had wandered.
He hadn't told Hummel why they needed Dalton discredited - he didn't need to know - but he should have clearly and specifically put a tighter timetable on it, Jesse realized. Things had never been meant to progress this far. Jesse now did not know if he had time to work in another, more compliant saboteur or if Lancastrian plans were so close to completion that he would simply have to kill Hummel and Anderson both in order to cause the largest disruption.
Either way, he absolutely had to kill Hummel. There was no getting around that. But not until he'd determined the extent of the problems that now lay before him. That would help him sort out the finer details of the death he was going to have to deal out, the location, time, and how long he was going to make it last.
And it would last. It would last a very long, agonizing time, he vowed. Jesse St. James was not the sort of man it was wise to cross or attempt to make a fool of. Kurt Hummel may have thought he'd known that before, but Jesse would be more than delighted to show him how very, very wrong he was.
He slipped back into his desk chair, somewhat more calm and ready to plan. The first order of business would be to send a messenger off this very evening with a letter that was sure to put the fear of God into his failure of an agent. Then he had to clear his schedule for at least the next seven to ten days, secure conveyance and lodging, and organize a suitable location for the death of Kurt Hummel.
Murder, Jesse decided as he pulled over a stack of parchment and a quill, involves entirely too much paperwork.
...Part Two...
Media: Fic
Author: a_glass_parade
Beta: mothergoddamn
Rating: Rated R to NC-17
Pairing: Klaine endgame, bumps along the way.
Genre: Romance, AU, Historical Fiction
Warnings: This is essentially a romance novel set in a violent time. There will be, throughout the story, sexual liaisons, murder, torture, sexual blackmail, and political incorrectness.
Spoilers: While events and references from both seasons of Glee may be adapted and worked into the story occasionally, it's otherwise fully AU.
Word Count: Story: 94,000+ (JESUS CHRIST) This Chapter: 6700+
Summary: England, 1484: The forces of Lancaster see Edward Blaine Anderson, Viscount Dalton, as key to their plans to retake and hold the throne of England. Allies of the House of York have come to the same conclusion and want to stop that from happening. Their secret weapon will be Kurt Hummel, stableman's son and reluctant spy.
Additional Notes: This is written in the vein of your typical historical romance novel with all the historical liberties taken that you'd expect. I do try to be as historically accurate as is feasible, though. There are some historical and some original characters that interact with the characters we know.
If you haven't read any of this before, you can start HERE to read it on LJ or HERE to read it on AO3.
“It's certainly lovely to see you again, Florian. It's been ever so long.” Amelia's tone was teasing as she combed her fingers through Kurt's hair. They were in the window seat of the music library as usual, Kurt with his head in Amelia's lap and his legs stretched up along the walls of the nook.
He batted her hand away, not even bothering to open his eyes as he did so. “You see me during the day. You're only put out because I put our night chats on hold for a bit. Blaine and I had to make up for lost time after his friends departed.”
“But five entire days?”
“We were making up for lost time yet to come, as well,” Kurt mumbled, prying open one eye to see her giggling down at him. “He's going to be busy again before we know it, and I'm in fighting lessons when I'm not teaching you...we just wanted to spend all the time we could together, which you know well isn't very much to start with, Amelia.”
“I do.” She sighed and pouted a bit. “But I like spending time with you, also, outside of lessons.”
He smiled before shutting his eye again. “I do, too, Amelia. We're going into Oxford soon, though, that will be a nice day excursion. And we can always go horseback riding, it's warm enough. We'll make time. Or rather, I will. Somehow.”
“I'm sure this job didn't seem quite so time consuming when you decided to try for it,” Amelia teased. “You probably thought you'd have plenty of free time.”
“I truly did,” Kurt admitted with rueful honesty. “How many hours a day can one sing, really? I actually thought I'd have a problem filling the remaining hours.”
“Then I am glad that you and Blaine are so compatible. I'd hate for you to sit with nothing to do, Papa would have questioned the need for you and anyway, idle hands are the devil's playground.”
He shifted and hummed a snatch of one of the chansons they'd been learning - with some trouble, given his lack of ability to speak French. Still, they muddled through, he reading the music and she reading the words. “I suppose I really should thank you for that, though you were embarrassingly heavyhanded about it.”
Amelia scoffed. “Neither of you would have gotten around to anything if I hadn't been. I regret nothing.”
“Amelia...” Her phrasing reminded him that he had questions, so many of them. He thought about how to ask the one that he wondered most about. “You go to Church. You know what they say about men such as Blaine and myself. Why did you want us together? You know they say it's wrong.”
She was silent for so long that he finally opened both eyes to see her gazing out the window, putting her thoughts together. “It's taken me a bit of time to come to the conclusion,” she eventually murmured, “But I decided in the end that...it's love that matters. I would rather foster efforts to put more love in the world than to frighten and condemn anyone. I love Blaine, he's my dearest friend and...well. I suppose I've always felt guilty about my part in ending his relationship with Thad.”
“What?” The revelation was a shock. He'd had no idea - though it did explain, he thought, why the valet took great pains to never be around him and often was openly snippy towards him. He'd wondered. “Thad?”
“They were very young, it was before Thad was Blaine's valet and assistant.” As Amelia spoke, her attention still focused on the view outside of the window, Kurt realized this must have been the relationship that Blaine had mentioned. The one affair he'd had before Kurt, the one that had ended badly. “The Baroness and I caught them, once. It was all very painful and embarrassing, none of us were terribly understanding, and when it was over, Blaine swore he never wanted to speak of it again.”
A chill went through Kurt as he realized just how close he'd come to forcing Blaine to relive that awful experience, and on a much more damaging scale. No matter the personal cost to himself at the end of all of this, he was glad he would end up sparing Blaine that. “Oh,” he replied lamely when he realized she was waiting for him to respond. “So I'm a sort of...penance for you?”
“No, you're a blessing,” she laughed, good humor returning as swiftly as it had gone. “And a dear friend of mine as well whom I'd also like to see happy. So you see, Florian, it all works out.”
“Except for the time aspect,” he pointed out. “Not enough hours in the day.”
Amelia pressed a kiss to her fingers and then touched them playfully to his nose. “That's why we have the night.”
“And I hope no one minds that I've come to intrude upon yours.” The pair of them shot identical looks of surprise at the door as Blaine poked his head into the room, a candle illuminating his journey to the window seat. “Hello, pretty,” he greeted Amelia, kissing her cheek. “I think you're where I want to be.”
She rolled her eyes and shoved herself further into the window nook while Kurt held up his head for Blaine to slip his legs in beneath it. When the men were arranged, Amelia tucked herself in under Blaine's arm. “There. Perfect. Hello, boys.”
Laughter rumbled in Blaine's chest, shaking both Amelia and Kurt. “You are something else, Amelia. It's good that I love you.”
“And I you,” she retorted. “You promised that I could have Florian tonight.”
“You do have him,” Blaine pointed out. “He's right here.”
Amelia huffed in annoyance. “I meant have him to myself and you know it. You are cheating, Blaine. Or using a loophole. Something. It's not fair, you've had him for days.”
He reached over to poke her in the side. “You're going to let me do it, too, since I'm allowing you two to yet again borrow one of my carriages to go into Oxford. At this rate, you're going to own everything that Master Puckerman stocks!”
Kurt decided to speak up. “Ignoring the fact that you're both squabbling over me as if I were a commodity rather than a person...we want to bring Rachel a present, Blaine. Didn't I tell you that they just found out she's going to have a baby? That's why she wasn't feeling well. They told Amelia only the other day, I'm sure I mentioned it.”
“You didn't, no.” Blaine frowned.
“You were likely preoccupied,” Amelia interjected sweetly. “Making up for lost time and whatnot.”
Both men closed their eyes and quietly flushed the same shade of crimson, leaving Amelia to look far too pleased at the results of her fun. Blaine poked her in the side again, harder this time. “Amelia, you are a pain in my backside. I don't have to let you use my carriage.”
“Yes, you do,” she protested. “Don't penalize Rachel simply because I like to tease. I'm almost done embroidering the bonnet and blanket for the baby. Besides, Florian's expecting another letter from his father.”
Blaine looked down at his lover in surprise. “So soon? Did you not just send your last one yesterday?”
“Your sense of time is warped from how much of it we've managed to spend together lately,” Kurt replied mildly as he sat up. Blaine pouted and moved to prop his arms on Kurt's knees, resting his chin atop them and making sheep's eyes at Kurt that he ignored as he continued. “I send one a week, there was the one I took into town when I picked up your music order, Blaine, and then one again five days ago before you began taking up all of my time.” He leaned his head down to give Blaine a quick kiss. “Not that I mind, of course. The point is, one should be waiting for me, and I want it.”
For all his blasé demeanor, however, Kurt was actually terrified and anxious to see if Jesse had sent him a response to his last letter. The first one that he'd intended to put out the fire of him threatening to visit had not placated the Steward at all, who had shot back with, You don't actually think I'm going to take you at your word that everything is fine? Not after I threatened to come up there? Honestly, Renner, if you think I was born yesterday then it is doubly imperative that I come to demonstrate otherwise.
So he'd had to send another one full of reasons and excuses why things were seemingly progressing at a snail's pace. His desperation to keep Jesse away from Blaine was rising like floodwater; only terrible things could happen if St. James came anywhere near Dalton. Kurt wasn't ready for it, hadn't figured out how - if - he was going to get all of them out of this safely, didn't know if Jesse would perhaps actually bring his father's fingers or something equally horrific.
It felt like everything was spiraling wildly out of control. He'd acknowledged when he decided to fight his seeming fate that there was a steep chance of failure. It now appeared that failure was guaranteed and God alone knew what the cost besides his father's life would be. His own life? Worse than that, Blaine's? God, please, no, Kurt begged whatever silent deity might listen.
“Florian?”
He jumped, bumping Blaine in the chin with his knees. Both his lover and his friend were frowning worriedly at him. “I'm sorry. What have I missed?”
“I was just saying goodnight, lover, and wondering if you wished to join me. Remember, we're in the salle tomorrow night for your lesson, you want sleep.” Blaine took his hand and squeezed. “Are you all right?”
“Just wit-wandering.” He knew the smile on his face was forced and raced for an explanation. “I'm a bit tired, I miss home, that's all.”
Blaine's smile was soft and affectionate. “I'm sure you must. Perhaps when things settle down, I can send you back to Wales for a few days. Only a few, though, I'll want you back.”
The kindness and...yes, he was nearly certain it was love in that offer, in that statement - it nearly unhinged Kurt. Don't fall in love with me, Blaine, don't, I'm nothing but disaster and pain and don't deserve you, I am going to get you hurt because I followed my heart instead of my head. I thought I knew what I was doing and now I can't work out how to repair the damage I've caused.
I think it's too late for me, but oh, please, save yourself...
He forced his smile wider. “I'd love to do that. Maybe one day I could take you with me? Or Amelia? You'd both love Wales, I think, we could study some of the local folk songs there, you could meet my father...”
As the three of them spun plans for a holiday that would never happen, Kurt felt the tension and worry drain away from the two people he could now acknowledge he loved most next to his father. But his own shoulders remained tight, his brain chaotic with fear, and later, when he lay curled up next to Blaine in bed, he slept - but uneasily, and his whimpers at the nightmares caused Blaine to hold him close and wonder what demons chased his lover in the night.
He could not know that one of the demons was himself, or the self that Kurt was sure Blaine would become if he ever found out the truth behind the existence of Florian Renner.
~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~
At Raglan Castle that same evening, Jesse St. James stared down at the letter in his hand, knowing his mouth was wide open in disbelief at the fact that he'd sent someone so entirely stupid to do such an important job.
Viscount Dalton has been very busy with a number of visitors, it has been difficult to get audience with him. I continue with my best efforts and hope for a final breakthrough soon.
Visitors.
Jesse would bet his mother's life that those visitors had to do with the war efforts he'd been trying to derail. Goddamn it, Hummel!
Shoving away from his desk, he barely felt the pop of Miss Lopez' mouth slipping off of his cock. He groped underneath to drag her up and shove her towards the door. “Get out,” he ordered as he haphazardly laced up his hose. When he had arranged at least a glancing nod at modesty, he looked up to see that she hadn't moved, and was opening her mouth to begin haranguing him in Spanish. He had no time for this. “Out! Get out, you pox riddled slattern, out!”
Judging by the murderous look on Santana's face, he was absolutely going to have to hire a food taster for the next sennight, but he didn't care. Nor did he care that if he wanted a bed partner, he would have to settle for the equally flexible but far less tempestuous Miss Pierce, which would take some of the fire out of the proceedings. Oh, hell, as if I'll have time to sleep with anyone now, he raged, pacing the room with his hands knotted into his hair. One more thing to punish Hummel for!
He'd underestimated Hummel's virginal reluctance. He'd thought for sure that the threat against his father's life would easily override any blushing maiden antics. Unless the idiot horseman had worked out that Jesse had never had any intention of harming Burt Hummel? Huntingdon had not wanted to know specifics of Jesse's plan, but he'd known of Burt's tangential, involuntary involvement from the beginning and had made his Steward swear to do no physical harm to his valued stablemaster.
The threat of bodily harm at the failure of the mission, however, was very real - specifically Kurt's bodily harm. Jesse had simply felt that the idea of torturing Burt would be a greater impetus for Kurt, who tended to be sickeningly selfless and more devoted to his father's welfare than seemed strictly normal to Jesse. So he'd lied to Kurt's face with nary a single regret. And it should have worked.
Jesse seethed as he paced. Maybe it had worked and that wasn't the problem at all. Whatever the case, he was most certainly going to have to go to Oxford to correct it. He needed to know with precision just how wrong it had all gone and how much damage control he would have to do. Once again, he cursed his inability to infiltrate spies into Dalton House, spies who might have been able to tell him the exact nature of the meeting. He had no way of knowing how far down the primrose path of rebellion the Lancastrians had wandered.
He hadn't told Hummel why they needed Dalton discredited - he didn't need to know - but he should have clearly and specifically put a tighter timetable on it, Jesse realized. Things had never been meant to progress this far. Jesse now did not know if he had time to work in another, more compliant saboteur or if Lancastrian plans were so close to completion that he would simply have to kill Hummel and Anderson both in order to cause the largest disruption.
Either way, he absolutely had to kill Hummel. There was no getting around that. But not until he'd determined the extent of the problems that now lay before him. That would help him sort out the finer details of the death he was going to have to deal out, the location, time, and how long he was going to make it last.
And it would last. It would last a very long, agonizing time, he vowed. Jesse St. James was not the sort of man it was wise to cross or attempt to make a fool of. Kurt Hummel may have thought he'd known that before, but Jesse would be more than delighted to show him how very, very wrong he was.
He slipped back into his desk chair, somewhat more calm and ready to plan. The first order of business would be to send a messenger off this very evening with a letter that was sure to put the fear of God into his failure of an agent. Then he had to clear his schedule for at least the next seven to ten days, secure conveyance and lodging, and organize a suitable location for the death of Kurt Hummel.
Murder, Jesse decided as he pulled over a stack of parchment and a quill, involves entirely too much paperwork.
...Part Two...