It was a cool day, gray with a light drizzle thickening the air. Umbrellas were useless; the damp sunk into every pore and fiber of one’s being. The rain was much like Moira herself, he thought as he sunk lower in the seat of his carriage. No matter the precautions he thought he had taken, no matter how hardened he thought he was, he had been powerless to stop her from invading every aspect of his soul. Her house seemed too quiet and too still as he jogged up the steps and rapped the knocker against the door. There was no Nathaniel waiting to tell him to go away as there had been before. And Chester was polite, if not his usual jovial self, as he allowed him entrance. One might think there was nothing amiss, that everything had picked up exactly where he and Moira had left it before that horrible night. No, not horrible. Making love with Moira had been the most incredible experience of his life. It was only what happened afterward that made it so awful.
