Six #2
A second fish course came out, bringing a genuine smile to his face.
It reminded him of his sister-in-law’s family restaurant and a dish served there.
But in no other way did this feast compare to the luxury of dinner parties back home.
Though he didn’t like to admit it, Envy’s brother Gluttony had recently impressed him, fashioning candles from bacon lard that, once they’d been lit and melted, created a rich, decadent sauce for the shaved Brussels sprouts.
Of course, his brother was highly motivated to have the best, most talked-about parties—he was locked in a feud with a reporter whose dismissals of him proved quite inspiring.
On and on the dishes came, and so did the wine. Blessedly.
He downed one glass and called for another, earning no admonishments. In fact, several other guests did the same.
Apparently, Waverly Green’s high society grew bored with their pompous, holier-than-thou ways too. Given the fact that Vexley was supposed to be a scoundrel, this dinner party was boring as sin. Envy’s masquerade next week would certainly stir things up nicely.
Across the table, the dark-haired woman from earlier, a widow named Janelle, kept trying to catch his eye. She pressed her breasts against the table as she leaned over, fully aware that the position combined with her low-cut bodice offered a tantalizing view.
Envy kept his attention on her face, where her lips were pouting ever so slightly.
“Fine wine, my lady, am I right?”
Her focus slid to his hand. He’d been absently stroking the stem of his wineglass, thinking of how to engage Camilla in conversation and draw her away from Vexley.
“Do you sculpt, Lord Synton?” she asked.
“Why do you ask, Lady Janelle?”
A pleasant flush rose in her cheeks.
“You have the hands of an artist, my lord. I can’t help but picture them molding objects to perfection. If you ever need a model, I’d be happy to pose.”
A flicker of annoyance surprised him, beckoning from Camilla’s side. But when he stole a glance at her, she wasn’t looking at him at all. Instead, she was fixated on Vexley, who was leaning toward her, eyes glassy from the fifth glass of wine he’d finished.
“Lord Synton?” Lady Janelle ventured, her breasts near to spilling out as she leaned farther forward.
Envy was saved from having to respond when the man to her left finally pulled his head out of his rear end to take an interest in the woman. And her generous cleavage.
Luckily, Janelle seemed very pleased by this turn of events as if that had been her goal all along. Games within games.
Vexley’s dinner party had quickly departed from the polite as harder spirits began to circulate alongside the wine, ensuring that the guests—both the ladies and the gentlemen—were getting as intoxicated as they desired.
“Sweet manna from heaven,” Envy whispered, swiping a whiskey cocktail from a tray, for the first time in his life regretting that his demon blood kept him from getting as soused on mortal liquor as all the rest.
Hours later, after the last dessert was brought out and cleared away, the host snatched a chalice from the table and lifted it high, spilling half its contents down his coat sleeve and splattering the remaining red liquor onto the table linen, as if re-creating a murder scene.
Envy kept his face impassive, though annoyance raged within. He despised messy displays. It showed a lack of control.
Surely this inebriated fool couldn’t be his competition.
“Ladies, please see yourselves to the drawing room while the gentlemen smoke our cigars. We shall all take a few moments to gather ourselves before I show off my newest treasure. Afterward, how about we all play some… games? If you dare.”
Without looking in her direction, Envy tapped into Camilla’s emotions, noticing a drastic spike in her nerves. All the while Vexley spoke, her discomfort wound around Envy’s insides, as if her growing anxiety were his own.
Miss Camilla Antonius was either up to something nefarious or was nervous about what Vexley had in store for everyone. Or perhaps she was excited by the prospect of his games.
Envy recalled what Goodfellow had said. He fought the urge to look at her.
It was entirely possible that Envy had read Camilla’s emotions wrong earlier—perhaps she’d only been upset with Vexley for his public display and not his unwelcome touch.
Anticipation and nervousness were nearly identical at their core, so it was impossible to discern which emotion the artist was currently experiencing. It was rare that his supernatural senses couldn’t aid him, and Envy didn’t care much for this uncertainty.
But perhaps it was another opportunity. If he could determine what Camilla was up to tonight, then he could devise a way to make himself indispensable to her, thus ensuring that she’d help him in return. No seduction required.
“All right, then,” Vexley said finally. “Let’s be on our way.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Envy watched Camilla bolt for the door. Without drawing attention to himself, Envy quickly stood, but just as he pushed back his chair, he was stopped by Lady Katherine.
“Do be a dear and escort me to the drawing room, my lord,” she said, blocking his path.
He glanced from the meddlesome woman to the door, debating whether using his magic now would in any way count against him. It was small as far as risks went, but Envy couldn’t chance breaking any rules of conduct.
“It will be but a moment,” she added.
A moment was all Camilla had needed to slip away, a fact that her friend either seemed to know or had surmised just as he had.
Outmaneuvered by propriety, of all cursed things, Envy pasted on a pleasant smile and offered his arm.
“Of course, Lady Katherine. Lead the way.”