#kingdonweek2025

TW: threesome, throuple, post-apocalyptic setting, plague level epidemic, mentions of death of major characters (not Mel and Frank), voyeurism, trying to conceive, pregnancy of Mel, pregnancy of Abby, breeding kink, infidelity (in the past)

Thank you to kay @khrogerswrites for the incredible beta work as always!

Cover images:

Gustav Klimt, Death and life, 1908-1915

Edvard Munch, Man in a Cabbage Field, 1916

Gustav Klimt, Forester’s House in Weissenbach on the Attersee I, 1914

Mel smiles despite herself. She’d meant to be cross with him— she still means to really, but their conversation can keep.

If she has any misgivings about her engagement to Frank Langdon it is that it must remain secret. They’d met in London only a few short months prior on one of the Colonel’s family’s visits to town: She as Colonel Abbot’s daughter’s longtime companion and Mr. Langdon as dutiful nephew and heir apparent to his aunt Gloria’s estate, so long as he stayed in her good favor.

Traveling in the same circles that season, they’d bonded first over their shared histories in Highbury: Frank having spent a few happy years there as a boy before his mother had died and her husband, Dr. Robinivitch, the only father Frank had ever known, had been forced to surrender him to his mother’s kin. And Mel whose remaining family, an aunt and sister, both resided in Highbury. What began as fond recollections, grew into mutual confidences and blossomed into romance. Despite his acerbic attitude in company, she found him to be kind and sincere in the tete-a-tetes he was keen to engage her in; conscious of her trepidation of boisterous settings, but solicitous of her opinions in private, away from the scrutiny of large parties where she’d never offer them freely.

She’d assumed the attachment was all on her side, until the day he’d professed his love. He was not yet at liberty to marry; His Aunt had made her opinions of a second marriage quite clear, especially with two healthy sons secured, but Frank assured Mel of his certainty in swaying his aunt’s blessing in time. Then they would be able to acknowledge their engagement and be wed. And when Mel had left London for Highbury, Frank had found a ready need to visit the Doctor and his new wife, a courtesy he’d been long neglecting, allowing for these clandestine rendezvous.

Frank smiles back, wrapping her in his arms and she melts into his embrace, nearly dropping the lead before regaining her grip— a good reminder of the matter at hand.

She steps back, clearing her throat. Unperturbed, Frank's smile does not waver as he leans down to ruffle the pup’s ears, “so this is the handsome fellow the whole town has been speaking of. What name have you chosen?”

“Frank,” she says sternly.

“Delightful choice, really, but a touch indiscreet, do you not think?”

“Then it is fitting: A thoughtless name for a thoughtless gift.”

A courier had arrived the day prior: a dog wearing a bow to be delivered to Miss Melissa King with no further instructions. Mel of course had known the gifter, but could hardly own the truth. So when her aunt had posited that he must be a token from the Abbot’s, she had not contradicted. Unfortunately, not everyone in Highbury had so readily accepted this supposition and while doubt of the giver remained, so did the gossip.

“I disagree. I thought only of your joy and that of your sister’s in securing him. Do you not adore dogs? Do not deny it; Not after the way you fawned over Mr. Purnell’s hound last week.”

She rubs her temple, “I fear you confuse sentiment with sense.”

He grasps her hands, bringing them down between them to trace circles with his thumb. “Mel, I do not know how long my aunt will withhold her consent or even how soon before she’ll summon me back, but until then, it brings me solace to know he is there to comfort you and dance at your heels until I am able.”

She sighs, “he does remind me of you.”

“Just do not let him share your bed or I shall be loathsomely jealous,” he smirks.

She looks away to hide her blush. His hands encircle her waist, tugging her to him, his nose caressing the flushed skin of her neck. “Will you accept?”

Her eyes flutter closed, “You have made it quite impossible for me to refuse.”

She expects him to kiss her, but instead he pulls away slightly, leveling her with his stare. His blue eyes are intense as he speaks, “but you could.” And the flicker of doubt in his voice tells her he means more than just the dog.

Silly man— She will not refuse anything he offers. “His name is George.” She says in response to his earlier question. She’d allowed her sister the honor of naming— she’s certain Rebecca had chosen a hero from among her novels, though she’s not sure which.

He pulls her into him once more, his lips meeting her own at last. Her free hand finds purchase in his hair, as she feels the strands through her fingers, shorter now than when she’d last seen him. The haircut had been his excuse to abscond to London for the day—to secure the dog, she’d determined. The haircut had placed him at the center of derision until the puppy had arrived. She supposes that was her doing as well— had she not given hints on the state of his hair more than once? But she can not say she is not glad with the familiar feel of his cropped hair beneath her fingers.

~~~

“Have you any other faults to find in me?” he says as they right themselves a while later, readying to part. She’ll be missed if she fails to arrive home soon.

“You might not quarrel so with Miss Garcia.”

“We do not quarrel. We partake in lively debate.”

“Some have called it flirtation,” her aunt among them and though she knows there is nothing like love between the two, a small voice in her head still suggests that Miss Garcia would make a far more suitable bride than her.

Frank laughs. “Believe me, there could be no woman more immune to my charms— Excepting perhaps Miss Santos.”