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The day after the Venturer submission party, at Penscombe, Rupert heard a knock at his door. Frowning, still hungover and not expecting visitors, he opened the door. His eyes widened. It was Bas, holding a bottle of whiskey out in front of him, a hesitant smile on his face, “Can I come in?”
Rupert paused for a moment, then stepped back, waving Bas inside.
They sat in silence, each with a tumbler of whiskey in hand, in the Penscombe parlor.
“I know I have no right to ask this of you. But I’m going to ask anyway,” Bas began, his tone low, looking over his glass at Rupert.
Rupert averted his gaze, staring down into his whiskey.
“Will you come?” Bas asked. “We’re filing the papers today, and we’ll do it in a month, just after Christmas."
Rupert met his friend’s eyes. Neither spoke, but in their minds, both were replaying Rupert’s wedding to Helen, years ago, when Bas had stood beside him at the registry office.
They had been friends since they were young--even before they had been at school together. While Bas was a few years younger than Rupert, they were both prodigiously talented at equestrian sports and had become fast friends during youth sporting events in Rutshire. When Bas also started at boarding school with Rupert, Rupert’s friendship had served as a welcome shield from the label of “Baddingham Bastard” that had seemed to follow Bas around Rutshire. The two of them had been close ever since. As a result, it had been inconceivable that Bas wouldn’t have been there for Rupert’s wedding, and Bas found it just as inconceivable that Rupert wouldn’t be there in 8 days when he married Taggie, no matter the circumstances.
“I know it’s not fair,” Bas whispered, dropping his eyes to his hands. “I don’t know that I could do it myself, if the roles were reversed.”
“If you--if both of you--want me there, I’ll be there,” Rupert said softly, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.
A small smile tugged at the edge of Bas’s mouth. “She wants you there, too. You’re important to both of us.”
Rupert chuckled and looked up, catching Bas’s eye. They shared a smile, and Bas leaned forward to refill both of their glasses.
Rupert surprised Bas by holding up his glass at eye-level. Bas lifted his own and clinked it against Rupert’s. “Cheers,” they said in unison, both draining their pours. The warm tendrils of the whiskey working its way through his body, making him feel light, his senses dulled and loose, Rupert gave Bas a long look, leaning back in his chair.
“Oh, fuck it all,” he said, his tone harsh.
Bas’s head snapped up, his body tense, scanning Rupert’s face.
A slow, sly grin spread across Rupert’s mouth. “Not only will I be there, but I’ll make sure you have a stag night that gives you nightmares for the rest of your life.”
An answering grin bloomed across Bas’s face, and both men sat a bit easier in their chairs, a hint of their old rapport reappearing between them. Bas leaned forward and refreshed both of their glasses.
By the end of the night, they were both piss-drunk, unsteady even seated, their arms around each others’ shoulders. They had not only made plans for a stag night to end all stag nights, but also had promised to resume riding together as soon as Bas returned from Argentina.
They were so drunk, in fact, that they had to call Declan and Patrick to come over to drive Bas and his car back to Cotchester. Standing on the front steps of Penscombe, Rupert grabbed Bas and pulled him in close, squishing Bas’s face between his hands with a firmness that left his features distorted and his lips looking particularly fish-like.
“I couldn’t have let her go to anyone else. But I think you actually deserve her. I’m in fucking pieces about it, but you’re bloody good together,” Rupert slurred.
Bas tried to reply, but between his emotion, intoxication, and Rupert’s vice-grip on his face, he couldn’t utter any coherent words.
Rupert saw his friend’s attempt and failure to speak and shook Bas’s head back and forth, still held tightly between his hands.
“Oh, I fucking love you, mate,” Rupert said, swaying in the winter darkness. He abruptly leaned forward and with a platonic and sloppy enthusiasm kissed Bas full on the mouth. Declan and Patrick, who had been watching at arm’s length with an amused disgust, rolled their eyes and pried Bas out of Rupert’s hands and, one of them on either side of Bas, guided him down the steps and folded him into the passenger seat of his car.
Back in the flat, once the rest of the O’Hara’s had left, Taggie sat next to the very drunk Bas on the sofa. He began to giggle, his head resting on the back of the sofa as he looked over at her. His giddiness was contagious, and she found herself snickering along with him. “What’s so funny?” she asked.
He grinned and beckoned her closer with a curl of his index finger. She tried to suppress her smile as she leaned in close. His inebriated, glassy eyes gleamed with amusement, his breath smelling like whiskey. “Now we’ve both kissed Rupert,” he whispered, slurring his words.
Taggie pulled back, her brow furrowed, still laughing, “What?”
Bas simply wiggled his eyebrows and nodded vigorously, dissolving into giggles again. She asked him for clarification the next morning, but he couldn’t remember anything after his fourth glass of whiskey at Penscombe, which he had consumed while it was still daylight, so he was no help in solving the mystery.
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While Bas and Rupert were getting plastered at Penscombe, Taggie and Caitlin had taken the train to London to pick up the dress Taggie had bought the weekend prior, which needed minor alteration. It was less a “real” wedding dress and more a full-length, champagne-hued, satin, sheath-style evening gown with a plunging neckline and half-sleeves. It was beautiful, complimenting both the warm tones in her auburn hair and the cool tones of her skin. It was also the type of gown she could wear again, and the practicality of it pleased Taggie. She had tried it on in the first shop they visited, and when she walked out of the dressing room, Caitlin had gasped, her hand over her mouth, nodding emphatically. It made for a much more efficient shopping trip than Caitlin had anticipated, so she insisted Taggie buy a second dress for the reception.
As they left the last boutique, heading for the train station, Caitlin stopped short in the middle of the sidewalk, causing Taggie to run into her from behind.
“Caitlin, what--” Taggie’s eyes followed her sister’s gaze, and she felt blood rush to her cheeks as she read the sign in the window of the shop that had attracted her sister’s attention.
“ No , Caitlin,” she laughed, tugging on her sister’s arm, trying to urge her along the sidewalk.
“Oh, come on , Tag. It’s tradition . And look at this place--it’s classy!”
Taggie gave her sister a serious, withering look, which was tempered by the crimson blush that now threatened to overtake both her face and neck.
Caitlin snorted with laughter and gave Taggie’s arm a tug in return. “I know he would lose his mind seeing you in a potato sack, but just think how crazy he would go if you did just a little something extra. Wouldn’t you find that just a little bit fun?”
A slow smile broke across Taggie’s face, and she stopped resisting her sister’s pull and followed a very smug Caitlin into the lingerie shop.
They were about to pay for everything when Caitiln grabbed Taggie’s arm and pulled her to another rack. As the sisters whispered together, Taggie noticed someone standing directly on the other side of the rack. Their eyes met, and both of them froze in place, their eyes wide with disbelief. It was Caitlin who broke the silence.
“ Mummy ?”
“ Girls ? What are the two of you doing here ?”
Both Caitlin and Taggie were so shocked to see Maud, not having had contact with her in months, that this sighting left them both speechless--even Caitlin.
“Um, well, we’re--” Taggie began haltingly.
“We’re here shopping for Tag’s wedding .” Caitlin said curtly, folding her arms over her chest, having recovered herself. “I assume you’ve heard the news?”
Maud sighed and gave Taggie a long, almost pitying look. “Oh, is that still on? I had half hoped that the two of you would have come to your senses by now--or at least that he would. I had always thought his taste in women ran in a different direction, and I’d just hate to see him--either of you--make a mistake like this.” Her eyes drifted slowly and meaningfully down to Taggie’s stomach. “And your father has assured me that there isn’t a more pressing motivation for all of this, which just makes it all the more vexing.”
Taggie dropped her eyes to her feet, the garment bags she held over her arm suddenly feeling like they were filled with hot lead. She felt like she was back in Monica Baddingham’s dining room at that cursed ladies’ luncheon--being pitied, judged, and found lacking. She was humiliated to feel another blush start to creep up her neck--she blushed less and less these days, and whenever she did, it was often accompanied by a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach--a reminder that she was being made to feel small.
Noticing her sister’s deflated posture, Caitiln took Taggie’s arm and scowled at her mother, who regarded her with wide eyes and parted lips, seemingly not understanding why her youngest would regard her with such hostility.
“I’m just saying , Tag, don’t you think you’re a bit young for all this? I say this as someone with experience. Once you get married, everything changes--you lose part of yourself. Your dreams become all the more distant and hard to achieve, no matter how charming the other party may seem in the moment.”
Taggie’s eyes returned to her mother’s face at her last words. Of course it’s in a surprise meeting in a lingerie shop, after insulting me, that she accidentally delivers something resembling advice.
“It was good to see you, Mummy. Caitlin, let’s go.” Taggie grabbed the items Caitlin carried and made as if to place them on a random shelf so they could run out of the shop.
With a firm look at her mother, Caitlin gathered the garments back up. “We’re not leaving these,” she hissed, pulling her reluctant sister to the register.
“Bye, girls!” Maud half-heartedly called after them, soon losing herself in her shopping. Always so sensitive , she thought with a sigh.
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A few hours later, Maud was back in her short-term rental flat. There was a knock on the door.
Maud smiled, pleased. Right on time. Before she opened the door, she strategically untied her silk robe and slid it off one shoulder to expose the lingerie she had bought that afternoon.
“Well, aren't you a vision?” Tony Baddingham said in a low voice, putting the flowers he carried on the table just inside the door, entering the flat and closing the door behind him.
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Four weeks to the day after the submission of the application was to be Bas’s stag night. As Rupert had assured Declan there would be nothing untoward, he had agreed to join them. That morning, however, Declan received a phone call at the Priory from the IBA, informing him that he was to come to the offices that day and receive their decision.
A collection of the local women, including Monica, Lizzie, and Caitlin had been corralled by Moriah who suggested they have some sort of hen do for Taggie on the same night. If the men were going to go out and get plastered, then they should have just as much fun.
However, when Declan spread the word along the Venturer phone tree that the IBA’s decision had been made, everyone’s plans for celebration were upended. Everyone from Venturer decided to pile into cars and convoy to London with Declan. They dropped him off at the IBA offices, looking like he was going to be ill, and went to take over a nearby pub to drink and wait for him to return. He was gone for nearly two hours, and the entire group was a pulsing ball of anxiety, all rapidly approaching drunk and chain-smoking.
When Declan returned to the bar, partially obscured by the haze of cigarette smoke, everyone went perfectly silent, sat perfectly still, desperately searching his face for some hint of the outcome. He was pale, seemed stiff and in shock, which everyone interpreted as signs of a negative outcome. Declan approached the group, solemn. Then, suddenly, he threw his briefcase on the ground and began jumping up and down, screaming, “WE FUCKING GOT IT. IT’S FUCKING OURS!!”
Every single member of the group began to scream at the top of their lungs, making such a racket in the pub at 2pm that the owner threatened to call the police to throw them out. When Rupert explained the situation, told the owner who he was, and offered him a premium to close the place to other customers for the rest of the day, the owner promptly accepted and told the group to do whatever they liked as long as they didn’t burn the place down.
Despite the ecstatic atmosphere, Declan and Cameron studiously avoided each other. Cameron had moved out of the Priory well in advance of Caitlin and Patrick’s return from school, mostly because Cameron didn’t want Patrick to know she had been sleeping with his father. So she had signed a lease on the first flat she could find in Cotchester. Declan had taken the end of the fling well--he didn’t want to explain Cameron to his children or Maud--should she return--any more than Cameron wanted to be explained. As soon as Patrick was back in Rutshire, he had gone directly to Cameron’s flat to tell her he heard she had left Rupert and he wanted to take her out. She had sent him away that day, but at every subsequent pre-submission meeting, she would look up and see his eyes on her. That night in London when he approached her, she hadn’t pushed him away. Instead, they spent the evening chatting, shoulder-to-shoulder, in a corner booth. It reminded her of the previous New Year’s Day--he might be young, but he was confident, kind. He saw her.
By closing time, everyone was so drunk that the bar owner decided to simply lock them all in, as no one was fit to drive back or even book themselves into a hotel. The next morning, everyone slowly made their way back to Rutshire. In lieu of a stag and hen do, the relevant parties decided to meet for quiet nights in at Penscombe and the Priory, respectively, as everyone had a hangover to nurse, and the ceremony was the next day.
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The next morning, Taggie and Bas dressed together in the flat.
“Can you zip me?”
“Only if you help me with my tie.” Bas’s cheeky smile evaporated as he looked away from the mirror.
“What is it? Is something wrong?”
He exhaled sharply as he drank her in. “Quite the opposite.”
He ran his hands over the satin covering her shoulders, then slowly trailed his index and middle finger down her throat, along the edge of the fabric of the plunging neckline. He noticed how her breath quickened, causing her breasts to strain at the fabric. He pressed his finger to the skin of her chest, feeling her steady heartbeat under his hand. He felt his own pulse quicken in response. With his other hand, he tipped her chin up, and their eyes met.
“We can’t be late--not for this,” she breathed, leaning forward and pressing lightly but intentionally into his hand at her chest. “Even if I would very much like to be,” she added with a small smile, her voice low, a flush spreading across her throat.
“Right,” he whispered, taking her by the shoulders and slowly turning her around to zip up the back of her dress.
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Their ceremony wasn’t religious, they hadn’t prepared any special vows, nor was there a formal wedding party. The plan was simply to go to the registry office, with only family (and Rupert), say the words, sign the paperwork, then head back to the Bar. It was all meant to be quite casual.
However, when the two of them walked in the door to the chamber they had reserved, Taggie involuntarily gasped and put her hand over her mouth. The entire room was decorated beautifully, with white flower garlands draped over the chairs, hung on the walls, elaborate flower arrangements set around the room. Caitiln and Moriah stood side by side, grinning at her, from the front of the room. Taggie correctly assumed it was their work. While Patrick, Declan, Monica, Archie, and Rupert were there, there was no sign of Tony or Maud. Taggie was both thoroughly embarrassed and incredibly relieved to not see her mother or Tony there. Declan approached her and held her shoulders in his hands. “You look beautiful, Tag,” he whispered, his eyes shining, his voice unsteady. He pulled her in and hugged her, giving her a firm kiss on the cheek. “She’ll be here. She promised. Don’t worry,” he whispered into her ear.
They went through the rote language of the default ceremony and its vows, their eyes both fixed on their hands until their gazes would inevitably, slowly, drift upward and their eyes would catch and hold. In that quiet intimacy, holding each other with their hands and eyes, each stale syllable, each repetition of their full legal names--Basil and Agatha--voiced over the sound of their own breath, felt like poetry. Bas’s hands trembled ever so slightly in hers, as she slid the gold band onto his finger and as he slid hers onto her. Taggie looked up at him then and was surprised to notice that his eyes were bright with unshed tears. That sight pushed her over the edge, and her own eyes overflowed as she laughed, a single dark line of mascara running down her cheek, as their lips met at the officiant’s direction.
The entire thing lasted but a handful of minutes, but it felt like a warp in time--a long moment that was just theirs.
There was no sign of Maud or Tony, even as the ceremony concluded and Caitlin and Rupert signed the witness lines on the marriage certificate.
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The ceremony had taken place as soon as the office had opened in the morning, so the lot of them, minus Monica and Archie, went back to Bar Sinister. The larger Venturer group and affiliated friends, such as other members of Bas’s polo and hunt set, were all invited for a buffet-style luncheon and reception, which would kick off a few hours later. Given the events of the preceding Saturday, Declan had suggested using the intervening hours between the ceremony and reception to gather the Venturer group, minus Bas of course (Declan wasn’t entirely unfeeling), for a planning meeting. Declan thought it would be all very convenient--they would all be in the same space anyway, and there was an hours-long gap in the programming. Bas joked that as long as it meant they could write off the entire day as a Venturer business expense, he was in full support. So, when they all arrived back at the Bar, the entire Venturer group was there, waiting to start the meeting, after some perfunctory congratulations.
Moriah rolled her eyes. Of course he would manage to make this a co-working event . She tried to shoo Bas and Taggie upstairs as soon as they got back to the Bar, but Taggie insisted on helping arrange things for the luncheon, and Bas insisted on hovering on the edges of the meeting. Moriah gave it half an hour and then tried again. Again, they refused, both trying to busy themselves, suddenly shy around each other and trying to act “normal” in the oddest ways possible.
Meanwhile, Moriah enlisted Caitlin to help her arrange champagne flutes on a series of trays, in preparation to fill and pass them around later. As the two of them stood behind the bar, Caitlin addressed Moriah, “Why are you so set on sending them upstairs?”
“I’m hoping if I send them up now that they’ll make it back down on time,” Moriah replied, opening another box of glass flutes.
“What do you mean?” Caitlin asked, confused.
Moriah regarded Caitlin flatly, her head tilted slightly to the side, an eyebrow raised.
Catching her meaning, Caitlin snickered, remembering their hour-long “shower” the morning after the terrible Baddingham tea.
Moriah began to wipe the glassware as she removed it from the box. “You know, I think I deserve a big pat on the back for this. I kind of made this happen,” she said, a self-satisfied smirk curving her lips.
Caitlin scrunched up her nose and frowned. “I'm sorry, what ?”
“Yeah, I told him to take her to London and spend the night on her birthday. You should have seen them before that trip. They had been circling each other in the kitchen for weeks . It was so painful. They just needed a little push. After that night, it was game-over, really.”
Caitlin scoffed and leaned back against the bar, “I’m sorry, but I think I get the credit. I was the one who called him in the first place to tell him it was her birthday and she was home alone.”
It was Moriah's turn to be confused. “Why would you call him ?”
Caitlin wiggled her eyebrows at Moriah. “Because they already had a thing and I wanted to fan the flames.”
“A thing? Them? When ??”
“After the Hunt Ball.”
“The Hunt Ball? How? He went with Felicity.” And the only reason you would put up with that grating voice for an entire night would be to bring her home afterward.
“Oh, well, there’s where you have it wrong--he took Tag . His date stood him up, and he needed Tag to go with him so he wouldn't have to go alone.”
“He said that?” Moriah struggled to hide her disbelief.
“Yup,” Caitlin chirped, happy to have stumped her.
Moriah was silent, her mind working. That doesn’t make any sense. He literally had a Rolodex of women he could have called as back-ups. For every one “no,” there were ten women who would literally have fought someone to go with him. And Felicity, that nightmare, had been in the Bar every day that week, not buying anything, crowing to the rest of his fan club that he had invited her months in advance.
Caitlin continued, “He even stole us dresses from Corinium and brought a stylist to ours. He was quite determined.”
“Something must have gone off with Felicity,” Moriah offered absently, wiping the same flute for the tenth time. I wonder if he sabotaged Felicity on purpose, Moriah thought as a sly smile crept across her face. He had been awfully attentive to Felicity’s friend Caroline that same week, which Felicity had not appreciated.
“Well whatever went off with her definitely went on with Tag.”
“What does that mean?”
“He snogged her senseless on the dancefloor, twice, in full view of everyone . And she went home with him after.” Caitlin lowered her voice and peered around, then leaned in close to Moriah, holding up all the fingers on her left hand. “Tag told me she came five times ,” Caitlin whispered conspiratorially.
“He's almost as good as I am,” Moriah quipped with a sidelong glance at Caitlin, raising her eyebrows, and they both laughed.
Moriah shook her head. I guess that would explain why he was hours late coming down the next day. And why he was so fixated on talking about Valentine's Day and that fucking curry. It always did seem strange. It was also so Bas. Rather than using his words, like a normal person, to say something like “I like you,” of course he would bring her home and try to max out her orgasm capacity. I guess there are worse ways to show you care.
Given this new information, Moriah found it rather sweet that Bas had waited more than a month and required external pushes from two different people to make another move. Moriah looked over at Caitlin, her smirk readjusting itself into a wistful half-smile that took Caitlin by surprise. “I think he’s been in love with your sister for longer than either of us suspected.”
Now, Caitlin’s mind worked. She thought back to that night when she had seen Bas holding a despondent Taggie in the Priory kitchen, how after that, he always found his way back to the kitchen, to her, during every Venturer meeting. A slow smile spread across her face. “I think you might be right.”
Moriah again looked up at the clock behind the bar and sighed, as she observed Taggie, standing in the middle of the dining room, fidgeting with the tablecloth on the buffet table. However, Moriah instantly perked up when she noticed Bas, on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall and clearly not absorbing a word Declan was saying. His eyes were locked on Taggie.
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Minutes later, Taggie and Bas were both upstairs in the flat.
Caitlin had casually suggested Taggie go up and change into her reception dress or at least grab an apron in case she happened to spill anything while she helped with the prep. It was a sensible suggestion, so Taggie had heeded it.
Before they could try anything with Bas, they watched him silently slip away from the meeting and slink his way toward the backstairs. He had seen Taggie disappear upstairs, and his hesitance post-ceremony had started to dissolve, so he had followed her up of his own volition.
Caitlin and Moriah both averted their eyes and busied themselves behind the bar, pretending that they didn’t notice him crossing the dining room and heading for the flat.
Upstairs, Taggie emerged from the bedroom, adjusting her hair, having changed into a dark green velvet sheath dress. She was about to exit the flat when Bas walked in, his tie loose, jacket over his arm. They smiled at each other, both of their hearts in their throats, alone together for the first time since the ceremony. Taggie laughed and made as if to side-step him and let him pass her to enter the flat. As she moved to the side, he took her hand. She looked up and their eyes caught and held. His thumb slowly slid along her skin. “Agatha,” he whispered.
“Basil,” she replied, closing the distance between them.
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Elizabeth silently materialized between Caitlin and Moriah. “There’s not enough time.”
Moriah jumped, then laughed, sliding her arm around Elizabeth’s waist. “Well, it’s either this or they inevitably sneak off in the middle of the reception. I don’t know which is worse.” She glanced at the clock behind the bar. “It just might work.”
Elizabeth smirked, “Let’s wager that five pounds I gave you a few weeks ago.”
Caitlin laughed, mildly scandalized, “Are you betting on what I think you’re betting on?”
Moriah and Elizabeth’s eyes met, and they both snickered. “Let’s just say that if the Gambling Commision knew the amount of money that changed hands in this place over the past months regarding their sexual habits, they’d have to create a new regulatory subcommittee just for Bar Sinister employees.”
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Upstairs, on her back on the sofa, Taggie was laughing, rolling her eyes. “ Basil , we only have ten minutes before we should be heading downstairs.”
His face was pressed into her neck, and he could feel her pulse pounding under his lips. “ Basil . So formal, so dignified. I quite like it, Agatha .”
“‘Agatha’ makes me feel like my nan.” She bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes, inhaling sharply, as she felt him take her earlobe between his teeth.
“And Basil was my grandfather.”
He slowly slid his hands up the front of her thighs, enjoying the sound of her gasp which became a soft moan as he slid his fingertips just under the edge of the red cotton underwear he had watched her pull on that morning. Only this wasn’t cotton . Suddenly confused at the feeling of his fingers slipping under a texture that felt a lot like lace and not the soft, practical cotton he expected, he jerked his head up from her ear, to look at Taggie, his eyebrows drawn together, perplexed. The mood broken for the moment, Taggie laughed at the face he made. He withdrew his hands, sat up, and threw the bottom of her dress up over her waist.
“ Fuck me , Tag. When in God’s name did you do this ?” His eyes wide, he slowly looked up to meet her eyes. She was breathing rapidly, with a very pleased grin on her face. When she had changed, she had swapped her practical underwear for a mostly sheer black lace and satin one-piece number she had bought with Caitlin, which even she had to admit looked very good on her. Taggie had intended it to be a surprise for after the reception. The pounding of her heart loud in her ears, she pulled the dress up over her head and tossed it aside to give him the full effect. Panting for breath, a red flush rising in his face, Bas looked at her, his eyes wild. He started to laugh, almost maniacally.
“We’re going to be so fucking late,” he whispered, a wide grin consuming the bottom half of his face.
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“Well, they haven’t come down yet. Do you think it worked?” Caitlin asked, looking between Moriah and Elizabeth.
They shrugged, looking at the clock.
“We’ll soon find out.”
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Upstairs in the flat, Bas was again on top of Taggie, sliding his hands up the inside of her thighs. He slowly moved one hand toward the center of her and used a knuckle to stroke her. God, she was so fucking wet. She moaned against his mouth as he pressed the full back of his hand against her, sharply inhaling as she wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed herself against his hand. He closed his eyes and pictured the warm, delicate pinkness of her, slick with want, want for him . Not only could he imagine what she looked like, but also what she tasted like, felt like under his tongue. The more he thought about it, the smaller his world became--it only existed in the inches between her legs, of her mouth, his cock. He felt like his head would explode. He had touched her like this so many times before, but the feel of her under his hand, knowing she was his , that she wanted him like this, still made him crazy.
“I think you're down to 9 minutes, Basil ” Taggie whispered, her blue eyes bright, her breath sharp and shallow, her forehead and nose pressed against his, her hands in his hair. For all Taggie cared now, it could be the King and Queen waiting for them downstairs. All that mattered to her was Bas’s hand on her and her desperate desire to keep it there.
He opened his eyes now. “That's the spirit, Agatha ” he said in a husky whisper, his brown eyes bright with excitement.
He pressed his other hand to her throat and slowly slid it upward to tangle it in her hair, gently pulling her head backwards and trailing his lips down her throat. His felt as if his brain had fully stopped working as he gave himself over to his senses--how she arched her back and pressed against him, the throaty, desperate sounds she made, the subtle citrus and jasmine of her Chanel perfume, the silky texture of her hair in his fingers, the wet heat of her under his hand.
For her part, Taggie felt like her world had also narrowed to a tiny slice of reality--all that existed was his mouth and his hand--well, really just his two fingers that were now inside her and his thumb. She felt his hand leave her hair and pull down the strap over her left shoulder. His mouth moved to follow his hand, and suddenly his tongue had encircled her nipple, running across it in rhythm with the motion of his fingers. Without thinking, she withdrew her hands from his hair and jerked down her lingerie over her other shoulder and tried to peel it down her abdomen.
“What are you doing?” Bas whispered, confused, his ministrations interrupted by her sudden movement.
Her blue eyes met his. “I want you,” she breathed.
“But you haven't--”
“I don't care. ”
He paused for only half a second, before the frantic heat in her eyes drove him to yank at his belt with both hands while she slid the sheer lace down over her hips. He succeeded with his belt and pants, which fell down around his knees as he grabbed the lingerie around Taggie's thighs, nearly ripping it as he tugged it down around her ankles. In one fluid motion, he slid himself between her knees, and his eyes flashed up to meet hers as he thrust into her, causing them both to gasp. He still wore his fully-buttoned shirt and the stiff, starched fabric was sandwiched between their heaving chests as he leaned forward to kiss her. Before their mouths met, Taggie pressed one hand to the side of his face, her thumb pressed against his bottom lip, holding his mouth just out of reach of hers. Her other hand formed a fist around the fabric of his collar.
“I want you, Basil,” she breathed, holding his gaze.
She felt him pant for breath under her clenched fist as he rolled his hips into her, making her gasp.
“ God, say it again,” he whispered, his eyes not leaving hers.
“I want you.”
“My name. Say my name,” he begged, pressing his face to hers, Taggie's thumb the only thing separating their lips.
“I want you, Basil. Basil,” she moaned against her thumb as he pressed himself into her again. His hands were clamped on her hips, holding her tightly against him. She could feel the smoothness of his wedding ring on his left hand against her skin.
“ Fuck, Agatha,” he gasped, his voice rough.
She slowly slid her thumb aside and, now, with both sides of his collar balled into her fists, she pulled his chest down against hers. He immediately pressed his lips to hers, his tongue pushing its way inside her mouth as he began to thrust into her with an intensity that matched the desperation in her own hips as her body rolled up to meet his.
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Downstairs, Caitlin was tapping her foot impatiently, standing next to Moriah. “It’s nearly time to start. Why aren’t they down yet? Tag’s usually very prompt. Maybe one of us should go get them.”
Caitlin made as if to start walking toward the backstairs and Moriah threw her arm out at chest-height, physically blocking her path. She caught Caitlin’s eye and shook her head. “Unless you want to go blind, I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Caitlin looked up the stairs, then back at Moriah. “You think they’re going at it, now ? With less than five minutes to go before their reception starts? I know that might be very Bas, but that’s not Tag. I know they’re horny for each other, but that can’t be what they’re doing. Not now.”
Moriah doubled over with laughter, tears in her eyes. “Oh, Caitlin. You really haven’t been around your sister in months. This is exactly the type of thing they would do.”
When Caitlin tried to stifle a laugh and failed, Moriah winked at her. “Let’s start passing out champagne, and maybe everyone will be too drunk to think too hard about why the guests of honor are running late. Tell them to take two.”
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Upstairs, Bas was now on his back, Taggie atop him. Both of her hands were gripping the sofa armrest behind his head as she moved against him, one of his hands fixed on her hip, pressing her against him, his other hand pressed against her where their bodies met. He watched her bite her lip and grinned, then glanced over at the clock on the wall. “Now we’re officially late. Maybe we should stop?”
She released a breathy chuckle and scrunched up her nose, “Shut up, Basil ,” she whispered as she leaned down to kiss him, her hair falling around his face. Taggie lightly nipped his bottom lip and relished the involuntary spasm she felt in his hips as she did.
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“Okay, but now they’re actually late. Maybe they forgot. Maybe the batteries died in the clock upstairs. What if we just knock on the door--”
Moriah again shook her head. “Trust me, the flat door might not be closed. You never know where they might be, what they might be doing, and whatever you see, trust me, you can’t unsee it.”
Caitlin gaped at her. “You mean you’ve walked in on them?”
Moriah cackled again and simply winked at Caitlin. “Let’s send around another round of drinks. Encourage people to take two. Again.”
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Now, both of them fully naked (except for Bas’s argyle socks) and their bodies slick with sweat, Bas sank down on top of Taggie, breathing heavily, laughing into her neck as a grin spread across his face. He pulled her face over to his and kissed her thoroughly, leisurely. She pulled away and laughed. “We are late now.”
“I did ask you if you wanted to stop, so this is equally your fault,” he said, with a mock scowl, as he propped himself up on his elbow.
Taggie reached up and wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of her hand and chuckled softly as she ran her hands through his thoroughly flat and damp hair. Bas felt his breath catch in his throat when her blue eyes, sparkling with amusement, dropped to meet his.
She looked down the length of both of them, then her eyes snapped back up to his face. “We’re a mess,” she breathed. They both laughed then. Bas moved into a sitting position and slid one arm under Taggie’s back, the other under her knees. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he picked her up and carried her back toward the bathroom. “I mean, it is our party. They can’t exactly start without us,” Bas said.
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Downstairs, despite the four rounds of champagne, the tipsy attendees had begun to notice that the guests of honor were running late. However, that was soon forgotten when Maud O’Hara arrived, also late, wearing a white, floor-length dress, and on the arm of Tony Baddingham. The sight of the two of them, together, with Maud in white on her daughter’s wedding day, instantly made the entire room go perfectly silent.
Tony, reeling from the loss of the franchise, had initially intended to skip all family wedding festivities today and let Monica and Archie go in his stead. However, when Maud had called, saying she needed a ride from the train station, as the rest of her family would be busy all morning, he had seen an opportunity to needle both his younger brother and Declan. Tony had taken up with Maud, originally, as a way to get information about Venturer, but when she hadn’t known anything particularly useful, he viewed the affair as covert revenge on Declan. And showing up with Declan’s wife to his daughter’s wedding reception seemed like a petty win that might just counterbalance the glee Venturer all felt at besting Tony in the bid for the franchise. But even Tony had considered Maud’s garment choice today to be a bridge too far.
Maud, who generally believed that all publicity was good publicity, was reveling in her monopoly of the focus of the entire room, while the vein in Declan’s forehead began to throb.
Tony and Maud made their way to the bar, everyone’s eyes on them as whispers began to sweep around the room. Elizabeth was standing behind the bar, filling trays of champagne flutes for Moriah and Caitlin. As Elizabeth took Tony and Maud’s measure, her expression was perfectly flat, but her eyes gleamed. Maud frowned, trying to remember where she had seen her before.
“Two glasses of wine,” Tony demanded, slapping his hand down on the bar.
“The fuck, Maud? You miss your daughter’s wedding, and now you show up on the arm of this toad and wearing fucking white ?”
“Hello to you, too, Declan,” Maud trilled. “And, technically, it’s cream .”
Elizabeth, her face set like stone, slowly and silently slid a glass of red wine across, then over the edge of the bar, completely coating the front of Maud’s dress with the crimson liquid.
“Now, technically, it’s ruined ,” Elizabeth said with a bright smile that decidedly did not reach her eyes.
Maud instantly recognized her then as the front desk clerk from the Dorchester, months ago.
“It’s you , you fucking bitch . How dare you?”
Not a single muscle in Elizbeth’s face moved as she regarded Maud with complete and silent dispassion.
In the shock of Maud and Tony’s entrance, no one had noticed Taggie and Bas emerge from the flat.
“What the fuck ?” Taggie whispered, looking from her mother, to Tony, then to her father, her sheepishness for her tardy arrival and damp, freshly-showered hair forgotten as she took in the scene before her.
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As the red wine soaked into the front of Maud’s dress and Taggie stared at her mother in shock, Archie appeared beside Caitlin, silently taking the tray of champagne from her and nodding her toward her mother and sister. Caitlin mouthed a silent “thank you” as she took two flutes and shoved one into Rupert’s hands, then moved herself into the empty space between her mother and sister and tapped her flute with the metal end of the corkscrew lying on the bar.
“Let’s have a toast!” Caitlin called out, breaking the tense silence, everyone’s eyes now riveted on her instead of Maud, whose chest was heaving, her arms held out from her sides as drops of red wine dripped from her dress to splat down onto her white shoes.
Caitlin shoved her flute into the air with such force that some of the champagne sloshed out of the glass and splashed onto her forearm. “To Tag! The best sister, the best cook, the best person . You deserve everything, and you’ve found yourself someone who will give you everything-- ,” she paused to suggestively wiggle her eyebrows at both of them, eliciting a ripple of laughter from the group, “--and who I think loves you almost as much as I do, which no one else will be able to match. Sorry, Bas,” she ended with a good-natured wink.
Caitlin then looked pointedly at Rupert, her eyes moving between him and Bas. Completely caught off-guard, Rupert, gaping at Caitlin, pointed to himself, mouthing “Me?” Caitlin rolled her eyes and waved her free hand in a circular motion, urging him on.
While most of the room watched with easy smiles, the small subset of the group with intimate knowledge of the events of the last few months watched Rupert with bated breath. Instinctively, Taggie squeezed Bas’s hand.
Rupert lifted his glass slowly. “Well, uh, I can quite honestly say I never thought I’d be here, toasting Basil Baddingham at his wedding , particularly to someone like Taggie O’Hara .” Rupert’s gaze darted over to Taggie. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and she gave him a small smile, which he returned, his grip tightening ever so slightly around the stem of his glass. “Bas, you’re my best friend. You’re loyal, honest, selfless, and I am happy to see you happy. And I know with your particular set of skills, you’ll most definitely keep your wife happy,” he concluded with a very saucy wink.
With that, the entire room broke into whistles and applause as they raised their glasses, grateful for something risque to laugh at to distract from the O’Hara and Baddingham family drama playing out in front of them.
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The first few hours of the reception were largely uneventful--if tense--filled with congratulations, well-wishes, polite small-talk about Bas and Taggie’s upcoming trip to Argentina, Venturer’s successful bid. However, as the drinks continued to flow, by late afternoon, both Declan and Maud were quite drunk. Taggie had offered to lend Maud something else to wear, but Maud stubbornly refused. Instead, she preferred to point out the stain to anyone who would listen, taking the opportunity to complain about the lack of professionalism of the Bar’s employees, the lack of respect she received as the mother of the bridge, and to insist that her dress was “cream, not white.”
Declan began to act as if he was deaf to any positive words about Venturer, his eyes locked on the small circle where Maud stood much too closely to Tony Baddingham for his taste. Monica stood on the other side of Tony, a tight, small smile fixed on her face as she refused to look at or acknowledge Maud.
Across from Declan, Taggie’s eyes flitted between him and Maud, her body clenched. Bas noticed and tightened his grip on her waist. “You okay?” he queried, his voice low. When Taggie didn’t acknowledge him, her eyes fixed on her mother, he asked again, squeezing her gently for emphasis. Taggie jumped, nearly spilling her glass of wine. She looked up at Bas, prepared to lie and say “Of course.” But when their eyes met, and she saw the earnest concern in his face, she simply grimaced and leaned into him. As she did, Taggie suddenly realized that everyone in her line of sight was staring at her and Bas with something that felt like pity--or secondhand embarrassment. Confused, she looked back up at Bas, whose body she felt tense against her own. She was surprised to see his jaw clenched, his eyes dark as they bored a hole in the back of his brother’s skull. She realized the looks, Bas’s seething, were due to the loud-- a little too loud --conversation occurring in the adjacent circle.
“--I mean, I tried to help. For people of our set, it’s just standard practice. As routine as giving notice. I’ll never understand when or why ‘prenup’ became such a dirty word,” Tony said, draining his glass of champagne.
“Particularly when a couple is so poorly suited . It’s just practical,” Maud chimed in, loudly whispering behind her hand with a meaningful jerk of her eyes.
Tony laughed and clapped his hand onto Maud’s shoulder. “Quite right,” he declared as he stepped out of the circle.
Taggie felt herself holding her breath, her head becoming light, her heart racing, as a dark blush crept over her face.
At that moment, Moriah was passing between the two circles with a tray full of half-empty drink glasses. Presumably on his way to the bathroom, Tony set his empty glass on Moriah’s tray and went to walk by her. Moriah, caught Rupert’s eye across the room and with a stoic face that would make Elizabeth proud, stuck out her foot, ever so smoothly. As Moriah felt Tony’s foot catch on hers and his body start to tumble forward, she slowly inverted her hand that balanced the tray full of partial drinks, allowing the entirety of it, including the tray, to land, upside down, on Tony’s back as he fell.
“Oops,” Moriah said blandly as she walked away, giving Rupert a wink, leaving Tony lying in a puddle of sticky booze and broken glass, sputtering, flat on his face.
“I’ll go get the mop,” she tossed back over her shoulder.
Across the room, Rupert started to howl with laughter, the sound breaking the awkward silence that had again descended on the party.
Maud had been caught in the collateral splatter, her white dress further soiled by the drinks that now soaked Tony. She reached down to help Tony up from the floor, but in his rage and humiliation, he slapped her hands away as he pushed himself up to a sitting position, hissing sharply as he cut his hand on part of a broken flute.
“Is this the quality of staff you employ here, brother? How you operate this shithole? Fucking Christ . This pit is only fit for an illiterate O’Hara and an Argentine bastard--not a speck of culture or class to be found in the entire goddamn place, starting with the ownership.”
Declan plowed forward, his face purple, but Bas intercepted him, reaching down and grabbing his brother by the collar, yanking him up, and dragging him toward the front of the Bar. The heels of Tony’s shoes scraped against the floor, leaving a thin trail of alcohol in his wake, as Tony gasped for breath, shoving his fingers between his shirt and neck, trying to avoid being strangled by his collar. Rupert’s eyes widened, and intuiting what Bas intended to do, trotted ahead of him and opened the front door of Bar Sinister with a wide grin, clapping Bas on the shoulder as he stalked past him and threw Tony out onto the sidewalk. Rupert locked the door behind him for good measure.
Maud watched this with consternation. “Tag, I mean really . What a scene to make on your wedding day. Look at this, even I wasn’t spared!” She gestured down to her dress, the red wine blotch now accented by amber whiskey and pale yellow champagne stains.
Taggie didn’t respond, and pressed her fingers to her temples and closed her eyes.
“This day has been a complete disaster!” Maud wailed, again attracting the attention of everyone in earshot, who blushed and tried to avert their eyes.
“Mummy, I think I would like you to leave,” Taggie murmured.
“What? You’re kicking out your own mother from your wedding reception? After all I’ve had to endure today, you are asking me to leave?”
Taggie opened her mouth to speak, but was preempted by Declan, whose demeanor had dramatically shifted, now with Tony gone, and seeing Maud’s wide-eyed distress. Declan turned to his daughter, whispering under his breath, “Come on, Tag. Can’t we all just play nice, today of all days? Just let this one go.”
Taggie gaped at both of them, angry now. “Are you serious? It would be nice if both of you could play nice. But apparently you can’t. So I would like you to leave.”
Suddenly a united front, Declan and Maud’s eyes met and they both gave Taggie a withering look that sent a sharp, familiar spasm of doubt up her spine.
“Would you both like to go of your own accord? Or would you prefer the Tony treatment?” Bas asked, standing behind them.
Declan and Maud both started and spun around. Maud chuckled and reached out to grasp Bas’s lapel. “You wouldn’t--” her words died on her lips and her hand froze in place when her eyes met his. Oh, he definitely would.
“There’s no need for this,” Declan whispered, suddenly aware that everyone was watching them, the Bar silent.
“I agree. So please leave,” Bas hissed, his eyes cold and black.
Maud and Declan turned back to Taggie, hoping to prevail upon their kind-hearted daughter, and were surprised to see that Patrick and Caitlin now stood on either side of her.
“I’ll take them home. They’re not fit to drive anyway,” Patrick stated matter-of-factly, looking at Bas, grabbing his parents’ arms with a firmness that made them both cry out. As Patrick propelled them both toward the door, Bas following close on his heels, Patrick turned and gave Cameron a meaningful look, then addressed Taggie, “I’ll be back.”
Rupert, still standing by the door, slid the bolt from the lock and swung it open for the three of them to pass.
As Rupert closed the door behind them, Bas slumped against the wall and released a heavy sigh. “Drink?” Rupert asked, an eyebrow raised.
Bas laughed. “God, yes.”
As the two of them walked back into the main dining room, they were greeted with a hushed, tense silence. Rupert strode briskly to the bar and grabbed two full bottles of champagne. He shook both of them, launching the corks violently into the ceiling with a loud pop and a spray of white foam. When the group gasped and tittered nervously, Rupert smirked, looking around the room, “Well, this is a fucking party, isn’t it? Let’s have some fucking fun !”
Moriah appeared beside him with a pair of empty flutes, which he promptly filled. “It’s about goddamn time,” she said.
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After that, the rest of the night was a consistently pleasant blur. Monica, who did not seem particularly perturbed by her husband’s departure, pretended not to notice when Caitlin and Archie disappeared from the party and remained absent for the better part of two hours.
Patrick returned, as he promised, and no one noticed when he and Cameron left at the same time.
In the wee hours of the morning, with the guests gone and everything cleaned up, Moriah and Elizabeth waved goodbye and saw themselves out. Bas sat in a chair at their usual table in the back corner and gestured to his lap. Taggie chuckled and sat. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder and looked out over the dark dining room. “How does it feel to be Mrs. Agatha Basil O’Hara Baddingham? To have half-stake in this fine establishment and full-stake in this incorrigible rake? To have collected another dreadful member of the family?”
She grasped his arms and pulled them tighter around her waist and pressed her cheek against his temple. “You’re kind, charming, clever, generous. You’re my best friend. And now you’re mine.”
She placed her palm against his cheek, turning his head to face her, touching her forehead to his. “I feel like the luckiest person in England.”
A warm brightness rushed through him as he tightened his arms around her waist and kissed her.
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Patrick’s birthday was just a few days later, and Taggie volunteered to prepare a New Year’s Eve dinner for everyone. In classic O’Hara family fashion, no one mentioned the scene at the wedding reception or Maud’s absence from the ceremony and tried to carry on as normal.
Patrick had invited Cameron to join them, and she happily accepted.
They had also invited Rupert, who politely declined. The day after the wedding, he had called Helen and asked if she, her husband, and the children would want to come to Penscombe to stay for both New Year’s Eve and Day. Helen had been surprised by the request, which was very out of character for Rupert. In her surprise, she had agreed. “I think it’s time I get to know the family I already have,” Rupert had joked to Declan over the phone.
As Taggie and Bas would be taking a cab directly from the Priory to the airport on New Year’s Day, Moriah drove the two of them, their luggage, and a range of supplies Taggie would need to prep the dinner to the Priory on New Year’s Eve. When Moriah went to leave, Maud was waiting for her by the front door.
“I assumed you had come to apologize for your behavior. But I guess they don’t teach young people manners these days.”
Moriah released an exasperated sigh, shifting the box she carried on her hip.
“Look, I don’t know what happened to you to make you this way, but since you created all three of your children, who are lovely, I have to assume you have at least one functioning brain cell.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’ll say this once, and then God-willing, you and I never have to speak again.”
“I’m quivering with anticipation.”
“You are a self-centered bitch who couldn’t see the needs, feelings, or dreams of another person, particularly your eldest daughter, if they slapped you in the face. And your husband is just as bad--maybe worse because he pretends to care. Taggie doesn’t owe either of you anything. In fact, it is you who owes her , and you both have utterly failed her. And I think you know that. If you don’t, you’re a bigger dunce than I thought. If you don’t change how you treat her, eventually, she will come to resent you for it. You’ll lose her, and it will be your fault. Even Taggie has her limits.”
With that, Moriah pushed past Maud and drove off.
Maud, while generally self-centered and prone to unmerited feelings of victimhood, wasn’t entirely devoid of empathy or immune to guilt and shame. As the sound of Moriah’s car faded into the distance, Maud leaned against the doorframe and took a rapid set of shallow breaths, her hand pressed to her chest. She had long been haunted by the idea that she had neglected her middle daughter, had failed to support her in the ways she needed because of her own lingering guilt and shame over the traumatic nature of Taggie’s birth, Maud’s fear that complications with her delivery had somehow caused Taggie’s disability--that it was Maud’s fault she was dyslexic, that it was Maud’s fault that Taggie hadn’t received the support she needed, that it was Maud’s fault Taggie couldn’t read. Sometimes, just looking at Taggie dredged up all those old feelings of guilt and shame, and Maud knew it made her behave worse than she should. Someone else, a stranger , perfectly voicing one of Maud’s darkest fears deeply disturbed her. It made her feel exposed and raw, like her inadequacies as a mother may as well have been written on her forehead for everyone to see and judge.
When Maud returned to the group, everyone noticed she seemed a bit pale and shaken, but no one commented on it. They were all grateful that she seemed determined to pass a very pleasant New Year’s Eve. Taggie in particular found it amusing that her mother went out of her way to awkwardly inquire about what she was cooking and compliment her. It all felt very stilted but still sincere. What in God’s name has possessed her?