Chapter Sixteen #3
“Exactly.” His expression was smug, as though well aware of what kind of response his comment would get.
“What will you miss most when you go back?” Lily asked with a knowing look toward me. I resisted the urge to pinch her.
His lips curled into a sly smile. “I will miss so many things. Apparently I will miss Mrs. Collins’s excellent shepherd’s pie.
I have liked many of the things I’ve done here—” And then he turned to gaze at me with an unmistakable look in his eyes, which made Lily’s eyebrows climb into her hair and Hannah cough as she smothered a laugh.
“But most of all, I think I will miss having conversations with Miss Hastings.”
“Oh, we’re calling it a conversation, are we?” Lily said in an arch tone, at which Hannah elbowed her in the ribs.
“Anyway,” I leaped in, feeling my face heat, “thank you for the kind words, my lord.”
“Marcellus, please.” He looked at the others. “Please call me Marcellus as well. We don’t stand on ceremony much in Hell. It feels odd to be my lorded all the time.”
Another way Hell might be more progressive than London. I’d have to start making a list.
Mrs. Collins raised her glass, indicating we should do the same. “To old and new friends,” she said and took a sip.
We followed suit; the beverage was a richly spiced liquor that reminded me of an excellent mince pie, of all things.
The other residents began to arrive, with the other witches coming first, followed by a werewolf or two, the ogre, the humans, and finally the vampires.
We settled at the table, Marcellus seated to the right of Mrs. Collins, with me at his right. Lily was opposite us, while Hannah was seated a little farther down, between a witch and a werewolf.
I looked around at the various beings, all of whom were chatting among themselves, and smiled.
I liked being among all these different types.
I liked coming in contact with beings who had other experiences than I did; how boring would it be if everyone I met was just like me?
I wouldn’t have the opportunity to get scandalized by Lily, or to try to make Hannah laugh, or to ask one of the werewolves what it felt like to shift.
Mrs. Collins brought the shepherd’s pie out, giving the first serving to Marcellus, then taking care of the rest of us.
It was fresh out of the oven and smelled heavenly (so to speak).
She watched Marcellus closely as he took his first bite.
He made a small noise of satisfaction, then waved his fork at her.
“You must give me your recipe, Mrs. Collins. That is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. ”
She gave him a surprised glance. “You cook, my lo—I mean, Marcellus?”
For the first time since I’d met him, he looked abashed. “I do. There aren’t many who appreciate food where I live, so I cook for myself and Cerberus, my father’s dog. But he’ll eat anything, so he’s not really an accurate gauge of whether something is good.”
“People up here, not just the dogs, would appreciate your cooking,” Lily said slyly.
I glared at her. I did not need her to start lobbying for him to stay—that would only cause me to raise my hopes. There was no possibility he would remain up here after the Exhibition, and there was certainly no way I would ever go there. I had my work, and so did he.
“It is kind of you to say so, Miss Wright,” Marcellus replied. Thankfully, he seemed to miss Lily’s implication. Or he didn’t but decided to ignore it, which was worse.
And now here I was overthinking everything. All because of a kiss, a memorable carriage ride, and an even more memorable interlude on a terrace.
To be fair, I’d be thinking about those instances for the rest of my life. It was better than regretting a missed opportunity or wishing I had done something different.
The table was soon quiet as we all got busy with the important task of eating—even the vampires, who didn’t need to eat anything but blood, but did eat when the food was good enough. Mrs. Collins’s pie was truly remarkable, even better than what we had eaten at the pub.
When we’d finished, we all helped clear the dishes, and then we returned to the table, Mrs. Collins once again passing around the spicy liquor as well as tea and the wine Marcellus had brought.
Soon the conversation turned livelier than before, with the werewolves debating heatedly with the witches about hair-removal spells, and one of the vampires showing the ogre how his fangs lengthened.
Marcellus was quiet, for once not the center of attention, apparently happy to just observe.
I wondered how unusual that was for him.
“I would like to see your rooms,” he said in a low voice.
“They’re nothing special,” I replied. “Though you can meet Dante.”
“Dante?” he said, frowning. “Who is this Dante?” I was secretly pleased to hear a strong note of jealousy.
“My dog.”
“Oh,” he said, his expression easing.
I glanced around, noticing everyone was still involved in their various discussions. “We can go now, if you like.”
“I would.” He rose, holding his hand out to help me get up as well.
“Mrs. Collins,” Marcellus said, executing a perfect bow, “thank you for inviting me. I will want your recipe.”
Mrs. Collins looked both pleased and abashed and put her hand to her chest. “You are too kind, my lo—Marcellus.”
He looked at the others, nodding toward them. “A pleasure to meet all of you as well.”
“Do come back sometime, Marcellus,” Lily said.
He gave me a pointed look. “I will.”