Chapter Twenty-Eight
Elias went backto the canape trays one last time in the hopes of pilfering one of the anchovy and parmesan tartlets, which he knew Hattie hated. He reasoned that if he ate the tartlet first and followed it with a little bakewell slice, she would never be the wiser.
“They aren’tactuallyrelated,” a nearby man with an impressive, waxed mustache said to another, shorter and clean-shaven, as he approached the tray. “What sort of siblings have different accents? Two of them are brown!”
“Well, perhaps they only shareoneparent,” the other man replied uncertainly. “I could have sworn I was told they were siblings.”
Elias chuckled, popping his prize in his mouth and turning to the men. “You think Willa Starling Selwyn had that many lovers, do you?”
“Oh, Lord Selwyn!” the man who seemed to have more of the facts said with horror. “Our apologies.”
“None needed,” said Elias, still amused. “Malcolm and Libba are siblings,” he told them, pointing to the pair as they worked together to erect a heavy plinth that Libba would stand on as the alabaster statue that became a woman. “The rest are not. We were all the baroness’s wards. She is my aunt via marriage.”
The speculative man nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, yes, they do look alike,” he said of Libba and Malcolm, who could not havelooked more different in that moment, with him ruddy and sweat sheened in his bright red-and-blue suit and her covered in talc powder and swathed in white gauze. “So you’re all orphans, then?”
Elias shook his head. “No. Some of us. Or perhaps none of us. I’m afraid you will find no consistency here.”
“Yes, so stop trying,” the other man piped in a high octave, clearly aghast. “You cannot just ask people if they are orphans!”
“Why not?” his friend returned, frowning.
Elias chuckled and passed them by, moving to the temporary seating that had been erected in the corner of the pavilion to find a good place for himself and Hattie.
“Pomegranate?” Ruby’s voice sang over the crowd. “And… cheese? Wait!Chevre!”
There was an eruption of cheers as she whipped her blindfold away with triumph and then let the guest holding out the spoon of combined flavors feed it to her, the goat cheese tinged red with the fruit juice.
Elias made a face.
It made him want another anchovy tart.
And thoughts of anchovies smothered in finely shredded parmesan were enough of a distraction that he didn’t notice his parents taking the seats behind him.
“I can’t believe we’ve never attended one of these before!” his stepfather exclaimed, startling Elias so badly, he almost dropped his bakewell slice. “What a lark! What nonsense!”
“Oh, Wallace, you have dirt on your knees,” his mother said with exasperation. “What if that pig had hit you?”
“What if it had?” his stepfather returned with amusement. “A pig and a barrister in the same week? I’d have quite a story for the lads at the club.”
Elias turned, blinking at them as his mother sighed and gave him a little shrug when their eyes met.
“Are you drunk?” he asked his stepfather, baffled.
“‘Drunk’? Never!” the man said with a giggle. “I am merry, lad. Have youtriedthe punch?!”
“The numbers boy is quite something,” his mother said over her husband, shifting awkwardly in her seat to draw Elias’s attention over to her. “I drew scraps of paper with three other ladies and three gentlemen drew symbols from mathematics. He assembled a total in a matter of seconds.”
“Yes, he does that,” Elias said, a little stunned that she had participated at all. “They call him ‘the Marvelous Human Abacus.’”
“He’d make a hell of a banker,” his stepfather said, waving over a servant with a tray and taking up two cucumber sandwiches.
“He does,” Elias replied. “He is. Or was. He is now a part owner in a shipping firm.”
“Shipping, is it?” said his mother with interest. “East India?”
“Something smaller,” Elias said. “I haven’t inquired.”
“That sister of his is wearing very little,” his stepfather said in half a whisper. “I’ve never seen such muscular flanks on a woman!”
