hoping to confuse the man with this avowal. Delwood did appear to be taken off balance. He opened his pale, withered lips like a great codfish, then promptly closed them again, his jowls actually shaking with the aborted effort.
“Well, I say, I never—”
But William pressed his advantage.
“Yes, quite right, indeed, sir. Though I do hope that wasn’t your estimation of me, my lord. On the contrary, I apologize that my thoughts were elsewhere, but certainly they were not far afield. I was merely contemplating how Swift’s of London might best advise you upon an investment plan that would be both aggressive and secure—”
This blatant lie was interrupted by the dinner bell.
“I must say that it has been a very real pleasure, Lord Delwood, and if you ever have need of banking services, know that we at Swift’s would be more than happy to oblige you.”
William stood up and gave the old man a polite bow before escaping the confines of the study for the delicacies of the dining room. At an intersection of two corridors, away from the main flow of the guests, he saw Sophia waiting for him.
“I looked everywhere for you, darling,” she began, but William quickly silenced her with a kiss. Their lips met for the briefest of moments, then Sophia pulled away from him, the darkness of the hallway hiding her expression from his curious stare. He was afraid he had gone too far.
“I am sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
Then Sophia was in his arms again, kissing him with her soft, honeyed mouth, her corseted breasts pressed firmly against his chest. She drew her mouth away and peered about to make sure that they were alone. Then she leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly.
“Not tonight, my love, but soon,” she cooed. “Very soon we will be together.”
William blinked, and stared at her. What promise was this?
She took his hand and quietly led him toward the dining room.
Six other dinner guests were already settled at their places when Sophia guided him to their seats at the table. He was very glad of the gentle pressure of her fingers around his wrist. If she had not led him, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to move forward of his own volition.
Tamara was one of the guests who had already found her place, and she fixed her gaze upon him the moment he entered. A knowing smile flickered across her face, replaced instantly by one of mock concern.
“William, you look ill at ease. Are you unwell?” she asked.
Tamara was seated across from Marjorie Winterton, at the far end of the large, square dining room table. Her blond head was the only fair one among a sea of dark coiffures.
“I am fine, thank you—”
Lord Delwood, his ornately carved bamboo cane thumping ahead of him with every step, came into the room, interrupting William.
“I am afraid the boy is of the sensitive type,” the old man proclaimed loudly as he found his seat at the end of the table, beside Tamara and Marjorie.
“I beg your pardon, sir?” William spluttered.
Lord Delwood turned and smiled broadly at him. His crooked teeth were yellowed from years of tobacco addiction.
“As I was saying,” he began, laying aside his bamboo cane so that it rested delicately against the dining room chair.
William assumed that the old man would lose his footing without the cane and collapse onto the thickly carpeted floor. But to his surprise the fellow actually straightened up to a height several inches taller than William himself. The hunched shape was revealed to be illusion, nothing more.
“I have found William Swift—” At this point, Lord Delwood produced a monogrammed handkerchief from his black frock coat and unfurled it with a dramatic snap of his wrist. Then he took the white cotton handkerchief and began to wipe the soft material across his cheek. “—to be a bit of a prude.”
The old man’s wheeze was now replaced with a smooth, rich tenor. “Sorry, Willy.”
William spluttered again, and cursed
“Well, I say, I never—”
But William pressed his advantage.
“Yes, quite right, indeed, sir. Though I do hope that wasn’t your estimation of me, my lord. On the contrary, I apologize that my thoughts were elsewhere, but certainly they were not far afield. I was merely contemplating how Swift’s of London might best advise you upon an investment plan that would be both aggressive and secure—”
This blatant lie was interrupted by the dinner bell.
“I must say that it has been a very real pleasure, Lord Delwood, and if you ever have need of banking services, know that we at Swift’s would be more than happy to oblige you.”
William stood up and gave the old man a polite bow before escaping the confines of the study for the delicacies of the dining room. At an intersection of two corridors, away from the main flow of the guests, he saw Sophia waiting for him.
“I looked everywhere for you, darling,” she began, but William quickly silenced her with a kiss. Their lips met for the briefest of moments, then Sophia pulled away from him, the darkness of the hallway hiding her expression from his curious stare. He was afraid he had gone too far.
“I am sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
Then Sophia was in his arms again, kissing him with her soft, honeyed mouth, her corseted breasts pressed firmly against his chest. She drew her mouth away and peered about to make sure that they were alone. Then she leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly.
“Not tonight, my love, but soon,” she cooed. “Very soon we will be together.”
William blinked, and stared at her. What promise was this?
She took his hand and quietly led him toward the dining room.
Six other dinner guests were already settled at their places when Sophia guided him to their seats at the table. He was very glad of the gentle pressure of her fingers around his wrist. If she had not led him, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to move forward of his own volition.
Tamara was one of the guests who had already found her place, and she fixed her gaze upon him the moment he entered. A knowing smile flickered across her face, replaced instantly by one of mock concern.
“William, you look ill at ease. Are you unwell?” she asked.
Tamara was seated across from Marjorie Winterton, at the far end of the large, square dining room table. Her blond head was the only fair one among a sea of dark coiffures.
“I am fine, thank you—”
Lord Delwood, his ornately carved bamboo cane thumping ahead of him with every step, came into the room, interrupting William.
“I am afraid the boy is of the sensitive type,” the old man proclaimed loudly as he found his seat at the end of the table, beside Tamara and Marjorie.
“I beg your pardon, sir?” William spluttered.
Lord Delwood turned and smiled broadly at him. His crooked teeth were yellowed from years of tobacco addiction.
“As I was saying,” he began, laying aside his bamboo cane so that it rested delicately against the dining room chair.
William assumed that the old man would lose his footing without the cane and collapse onto the thickly carpeted floor. But to his surprise the fellow actually straightened up to a height several inches taller than William himself. The hunched shape was revealed to be illusion, nothing more.
“I have found William Swift—” At this point, Lord Delwood produced a monogrammed handkerchief from his black frock coat and unfurled it with a dramatic snap of his wrist. Then he took the white cotton handkerchief and began to wipe the soft material across his cheek. “—to be a bit of a prude.”
The old man’s wheeze was now replaced with a smooth, rich tenor. “Sorry, Willy.”
William spluttered again, and cursed
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