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“Retribution for the wretched tea she sent last week.”

Edwin let out a fast breath through his nose and shook his head. “Ah. I see.”

William’s cheeks reddened a little. He thumbed over his shoulder with his free hand. “Do you want to stay for a while? Andrew and I were about to have some whiskey.”

“Not beer?” Edwin asked.

“After that photography session with my parents, I think I require something stronger. Poor Andrew probably needs it too.” He looked back at Andrew, who was rocking back and forth on his heels, his hands tucked into his pockets and camera bag by his feet. “What do you say, Andrew?”

“Oh, uhm, I thought your parents were lovely, actually,” he said. “But I won’t say no to a stiff drink.”

“It’s settled then,” William said. “We’ll all have a finger or two of whiskey and then you fellows can travel home together in the carriage. You and Andrew only live a few blocks from each other, you know.”

Edwin faked a scoff. “You haven’t even heard my answer. What if I have to leave right now? I might have a prior engagement.”

“You?!” William balked with a laugh. “Doubtful.” Because when had Edwin ever had a prior engagement? He clapped Edwin on the shoulder and shook him. “Stay for a while,” he insisted. “Please? I miss spending time with my closest friend.”

William faked a pout, and Edwin flicked his eyes to the ceiling.

“Fine, I’ll stay,” Edwin relented. “Even though we spend plenty of time together.”

Grinning, William returned the photograph to its drying place and then pushed past Edwin to go toward the hall. Hesitantly, Edwin shuffled closer to Andrew. Andrew rocked back and forth on his heels some more.

“So, uhm, why’d you become a nurseryman?” Andrew asked.

“Just . . . needed the money.”

Andrew nodded knowingly. There was a long pause.

“You must really like plants, to have thought of working in a conservatory,” Andrew finally remarked.

“Not really,” Edwin admitted.

William came back with a bottle of brown liquor and three snifters.

“Here we are, gentleman,” he said.

Edwin smiled as he took one of the snifters, a fast burst of elation sending his heart aflutter. Despite how much time had passed since he’d begun living as Edwin, he still found himself feeling immensely pleased whenever he was called a gentleman.

William set his snifter onto a shelf of the bookcase and yanked the cork out of the bottle of whiskey.

“Finest one I was able to find in my father’s study.”

He proceeded to pour each of them two fingers of liquor. Edwin raised his glass to his nose and enjoyed the smell of the whiskey before taking a sip. Smoky, bitter liquid sloshed over his tongue, burning his throat when he swallowed.

It was, in a word, divine. Edwin so loved the taste of whiskey, but he only ever had it when he was with William. He’d have never been able to afford a bottle like this himself. Only the cheap stuff. Stuff that wasn’t even worth the bottle it was sold in. He couldn’t yet bring himself to venture out to one of the local saloons, either.

“Dear God, that’s wonderful,” William said, having just finished enjoying a sip himself.

Andrew was still inspecting his. After another second’s pause, he threw back most of it in one fast gulp and then began to sputter and cough while he lowered his glass. Edwin pursed his lips to try to keep himself from chortling. William, on the other hand, was obviously not the least bit concerned with being polite. He threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh.

“Haven’t you ever had whiskey before?” he asked Andrew.

“I have, yes,” Andrew choked out between coughs. He pounded on his chest twice, which somehow helped him settle. “But I struggle with the taste. And the burn. All of it, really. Except for the warm, fuzzy feeling I get once the nausea passes.”

“I thought you said you liked a stiff drink,” William teased.

“I, well, I mean, I said that I wouldn’t say no to one,” Andrew corrected with a sheepish smile. “I like beer, though. Or wine sometimes. Though I like to stay away from red. Since it stains.”