“You’re the one who walked here?”he said.“You must have really wanted to meet Roger.I’m sure I’d have given up before walking from the posting station.”
“I’m on my feet a great deal with my work.It was no trouble.”
“What is your work, Mr.Moore?”someone said beside him.
Conrad turned to see another tall individual, this one with a muscular build, dark brown skin, and short black hair.His accent was less polished than either of the Wrenwhistle brothers, which instantly put Conrad at a little more ease.
“I’ve been working in the shipyards.I’m from Bristol.”
“I see,” the other man said.“You’re the one wanting to work in the Council?”
“Yes,” Roger said.“Conrad, this is Silas Rook-Worth and his husband, Mr.Keelan Rook-Worth.Silas works on the Council as well.”
Conrad nodded at both men.Mr.Keelan Rook-Worth was of equal height to his husband, though of a trimmer build.He had dark blond hair and a smile that hinted at a cheerful disposition.Councilmember Rook-Worth shook Conrad’s hand.
“You can call me Silas,” he said.“It would be nice to have another person from a similar background to myself on the Council.”
Conrad felt a thrill at the endorsement.He bounced a little on his toes—a habit that he was trying to quell, but had difficulty quashing when he was excited.“That is wonderful to hear, Silas.Thank you.”
Roger led him to a small cluster of people conversing in one corner of the room.“Conrad, this is Lady Anthea Fitzhugh, Lady Imogen Fitzhugh, Miss Harriet Thackeray, Mx.Fern Hillcrest, and Mr.Cyril Thompson,” he rattled off, pointing to each person in turn.
“You don’t need to be so formal,” Lady Anthea Fitzhugh said with a kind smile.“I think I can speak for all ofuswhen I say you can use our first names.”She was a human with a brown complexion and tightly-coiled ringlets.Her wife was a bit taller and wore trousers and a suit.The lady’s short blonde hairstyle barely reached the back of her jaw.She also seemed friendly, although a little less warm in her greeting than her wife.
“Thank you,” Conrad said, relieved.“And do call me Conrad.”
“Where are you from, Conrad?”Fern asked.They had dark, straight hair that fell neatly around their pointed ears.Even the way they’d inclined their head in greeting seemed graceful and elegant.
“Bristol.Just arrived this afternoon.”
“That must have been quite a long trip,” Imogen said, looking sympathetic.
“It was.Traveled by post mostly.I’m sure I looked a fright when I arrived,” he added, with a sidelong glance at Roger.
“Oh, my word, the poor man was soaked to the skin from the rain,” Roger put in.
Cyril—a slim gentleman with impeccable attire and dark eyes—crooked a grin at Conrad before giving his outfit a brief, assessing once-over.“It appears as though you’ve recovered rather quickly, old chap.”
Conrad chuckled.“I don’t mind a little rain.”
“Ooh, I like him,” Harriet said, with a bounce on her toes that made Conrad immediately like her as a twin in habit.The lady was as short as he was, with a curvy figure, bronze-colored skin, and bountiful black chignon at the back of her head.“You should stay for the whole party.”
“I don’t wish to impose on my hosts’ generosity, but I will be pleased to stay for as long as they wish.Or as short,” he added with a wink.“How long will you all be staying?”
Roger quickly glanced over his shoulder.Conrad followed his gaze over to Wyndham, who was still in his corner, sipping wine.
“And now I’d better introduce you to our final guest,” Roger said, taking Conrad’s arm again and leading him to another man sitting by himself in a corner.“Conrad, this is Mr.Ravenwing.Mr.Ravenwing, please allow me to introduce Mr.Moore.”
