Plan A: Cause Trouble. Plan B: Find More.

[una_persson]

Una had waited a few days to send Signor Candida a letter from Jeremy Cornelius, asking for more travel advice for Rome and the surroundings; as she anticipated and as she gleefully reported to Dorian, the response that came to Jeremy's poste restante was an invitation to dine, and that the charmingly sceptical Signor Gray was also welcome. The arrangement for the evening in question, then, was for Una-as-Jeremy to collect Dorian, and for the two of them to proceed to Kensington together.

But on the appointed night, it was Una as herself (albeit in a fashionably daring Artistic Dress gown in blue and white) that rang at Grosvenor Square, with a letter in her hand, a disgruntled expression on her face, and not a single damn given for anyone who looked sidelong at her for showing up alone at Mr Gray's house.

Comments

[depicted]

"As you seem to be in all things," he replied. It was impossible not to flatter her. And that flattery was not related to the shameless, honest question that came next: "Would I be able to travel with you?"

[una_persson]

She raised her eyebrows and hesitated for a moment, wondering if he was going to make her regret these revelations after all. But she couldn't blame him for asking—nor, really, was she surprised, given his enthusiasm even for the terrors of the Blitz.

"I'd like to give you an unequivocal 'yes'," she said, and she found as she said it that she actually meant it. "Some say that one must have the gift for it—though the only way one knows is to try, or discover by accident. All I can say is—perhaps. But you'd like to, wouldn't you? The newest of experiences..." Her hand drifted up to toy lightly with his hair.

[depicted]

"I'm afraid you've sussed out the essence of me." And he smiled in that mix of heedlessness and curiosity that was one of his most dangerous features. "In truth, I can think of nothing more intriguing than that."

[una_persson]

"I can't make any promises," she admitted, even as she felt for a mad moment that she might have made any promise in the multiverse at that smile. "But we shall see, perhaps? And if I may be a trifle selfish—this world of yours is full of new experiences for me, and I'm in no way done with them yet."

[depicted]

"Why don't we travel?" His fingers curled around hers and then he was clasping his hands, caught up in his own idea. "Why wait for our quarry to come back from Italy? We'll pursue him to Rome, and when we've found the truth, we can do anywhere, do anything? There are things about this world even I have yet to discover, and I can think of no one better as partner in my explorations."

[una_persson]

Her eyes widened, then she grinned broadly. "All right. Let's do it. My run at the Alhambra is up in a week, and we can go." She had, in fact, been slightly concerned about what she might do next; this finessed the problem, at least for a while. As for any possibility of scandal—well, she was an actress, and barely acceptable in polite society as it was. The desire for adventure had always been stronger than any concern for her reputation.

"I promise you that I'll be a most adaptable travelling companion," she said, her grey eyes bright with mischief. "Whether it's me you want, or Jeremy, or someone else altogether."

[depicted]

"I'll take any you you want for accompanying me. I love the way you multiple your personalities." Holding her there, Dorian was enamoured of Una Persson in that loveless way of his, and had no desire to hide the fact. "We could even be different people at every port."

[una_persson]

She laughed. "Perhaps I'll be a grieving widow in France, veiled and discreet. Then in Venice a masked courtesan—and in Rome, a well-meaning boy, pretty and slightly dim, the better to further insinuate oneself with those who have mysterious business in England. Only you shall have the truth of me."

The irony was that the multivalent will o' wisp she was with Dorian as as much as rôle as any of those she'd playfully suggested. But then a very intelligent man had once written that, "Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth." Perhaps she was more right than even she realised.

[depicted]

"Are you sure about France? I don't think I've seen any widows grieve there." Yet he would not begrudge her her masks or her honesty. He was composed of multiples himself, and only rarely did he trouble himself with wondering what he really was.

Then again, he always had a picture to show him the truth.

[una_persson]

"A fair point. I will take any suggestion you find appropriate, then." A kind of giddiness had hold of her now, with the promise of adventure, and she kissed him.