“You look like you want to escape.”
I smiled at Maxwell’s voice, turning to find him with Zachariah and Flora.
“I heard you might have been a little under the weather still,” Flora said, looking me over with concern. “You do look a little tired, my dear. If you need to cut the night short, we’ll understand.”
Zachariah nodded. “You only recovered from your fever a few days ago.”
“I’m made of sterner stuff than that,” I said cheerfully. “And I feel rather reinvigorated by that hunt. Quite fun, wasn’t it?”
Maxwell looked skeptical, but Flora nodded vigorously. “You boys did such a fine job,” she said.
“Ambrose beat us all handily,” I said, shrugging. “But I wouldn’t have expected any less. The duke must be proud.” I glanced around for him.
“He’s too ill to join us tonight,” Maxwell said. “He shouldn’t have made the trip.”
“We did try to talk him out of it, but he can be a stubborn fool.” Flora sighed. “Family means so much to him.”
Maxwell pursed his lips at her words. “It’s a shame Emmett isn’t here with us.”
Flora smiled wistfully. “I expect him to return any day now.” Her eyelid twitched as she said this, and I wondered just how worried she was now that the days without him had stretched on for so long. It had to be exhausting being plagued by doubt surrounding the circumstances of his absence.
“His new art is interesting,” Zachariah spoke up.
Flora sent him a questioning look. “New art?”
Zachariah nodded. “It’s rather morbid imagery honestly, but still quite nice.”
“He’s very good,” I added.
Flora glanced back at Maxwell. “When was this?”
Maxwell shrugged. “I showed them earlier this week.”
“I mean, when did Emmett create this new art?”
“He must have been doing it for the last few weeks. I believe it’s inspired by Father’s books on reincarnation and the afterlife.”
Flora chewed on her lower lip, brow furrowed in thought for a moment, before she sighed. “Well, lately the maids have seemed to always be putting away his piles of occult books.”
Maxwell nodded. “Ambrose is usually the studious one.”
“You never took an interest in the supernatural,” Flora pointed out. “Your father always wished you would. He loves discussing it with Ambrose. A far cry from Emmett, disagreeing with all of Jonathan’s opinions. But I rather think that was retaliation for how dismissive your father was of his art. It’s probably a good thing that he took some time …” She roused herself. “In any case, I’m glad Emmett has followed his love of art. It makes him happy. I’d like to see his new art as well, but I’ll wait for him to show me himself rather than intrude.”
Maxwell ducked his head. “Sorry, Mother.”
Flora patted his cheek. “You’re just lucky you’re so charming.”
The room had begun to fill as we’d conversed, and I suddenly noticed the music had altogether stopped. Flora looked up, then smiled. “Ah, it’s time then.” She raised her champagne glass and struck it with the spoon a servant handed her, a loud tinkling breaking through the chatter of the room. As soon as she seemed to have everyone’s attention, her smile widened. “The musicians have been playing so frequently that I thought it high time we gave them a night off. Wouldn’t you agree, Maxwell?”
Maxwell straightened. “Of course, Mother.” He sent her a quizzical look, but she gestured to the alcove, now empty, save the instruments the musicians had left behind. I squinted, noting many instruments piled at the back of the room that I hadn’t noticed before.
“We will require entertainment, however,” Flora continued. “And that entertainment will come from our dear guests. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
I blinked. Ah. A test of our ability to entertain. That would be an easy task for me, at least. I was well-versed in several of the instruments I spied in the alcove. Perhaps I could make myself the favorite of this competition yet.
“Cecelia Alvarez,” Flora said, singling out the girl in the crowd. “Would you do the honor of getting things started? You can pick the next guest, and so on until everyone has had a turn.”
Cecelia stepped forward and curtsied before making her way to the alcove. Everyone watched with rapt attention as she selected a cello. I approved of her choice. It was a large instrument, almost unwieldy, but would command the room if played correctly. Cecelia likely knew she had to be bold in order to win back any favor. That was why Flora had chosen her to go first, after all, to prove herself still worthy.
