Platters of roasted beef tenderloin with a rosemary
Envy could have done without the accusing stare of the fish, or the manual labor involved in cleaning the prawns, but kept his thoughts from his face. The food was otherwise decent and the company of Lady Edwards surprisingly tolerable.
Once they’d all sampled the first round, the second was brought out. Dishes inspired by the southern region of a nearby realm took center stage.
A salad made of oranges, diced onion, and pine nuts tossed with a tangy dressing made of salt, pepper, oregano, and oil and vinegar.
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.
