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He brushes one of the silk ribbons holding my mask.
“But why... do you not believe me?”
I jerk away. “Touch me again and I will break those pretty fingers of yours.”
“Did you say pretty?”
I am about to respond, but a man steps forward. Somewhat short, with curly reddish hair and lively eyes.
“Are you also observing the beauty of this composition?” he asks, gesturing to the mass of human bodies.
Lord Dorian shifts his gaze from me. “Naked bodies, stripped of their archetypes.”
The man turns his attention to him. “They are stunning, indeed... but sir, you stand out among everyone here.”
What did he just say?
He points to Dorian’s white clothes.
“It is difficult not to notice you.”
Go ahead, feed this man’s already boundless ego.
He adjusts his shirt sleeves in that elegant way of his, asserting superiority without wasting breath.
“It was not my intention. It was an entirely random choice.”
Mock someone else, you stu—
“Random is the last word one would associate with you.”
Julian appears with a woman on his arm, her hair red like a dying fire. Her smaller, modest figure contrasts with his exuberance.
“Julian,” Lord Dorian says, with patent irritation in his voice.
“My wife.” He makes an elegant gesture toward the woman. “And my brother-in-law.” A quick nod toward the short man.
I limit myself to a nod. The wife responds with a slight curtsy, the brother-in-law looks down as if unaccustomed to such company.
“Viscount, it is a true pleasure,” Julian insists, broadening his smile.
Lord Dorian shoots him a sideways glance. “We ought to maintain our anonymity, should we not?”
“Certain figures cannot be concealed. Even under a mask.”
His gaze then slides toward the composition of bodies beside us. He takes a few steps closer, letting go of his wife's arm like a momentarily useless object.
“Have you noticed the beauty of these bodies? Ecstatic, do you not find?”
His gloved hand rises to point out two young men arranged like living statues, skin oiled beneath the veil of wet sheets.
“Look at the perfection of these masculine forms.”
“What forms?” Lord Dorian asks, without even deigning to give the spectacle a second look.
“If you observed with more attention—”
“I have no intention of observing a male body for any purpose other than art.”
