Faces of the Wind

Chapter 40

Adrian studied his reflection in the tall ornate mirror that certainly looked better than him. His velvet suit with the embroidered waistcoat was loose-fitting, but he had neither the money nor the time to get a new one tailored. The bruises on his face have faded, but he was left with a probably permanent scar that was not very visible, thanks to Mrs. Bumbleton's skilled hands. His cheeks were hollow and a hint of dark shadows set under his eyes.

***

While descending the staircase to the main hall, he wondered how he would face high society in his new state. Nothing can be kept secret in these parts, and there sure has been ill talk of him. He saw it in the eyes of the first two middle-aged ladies who eyed him as he made his way into the hall. He smiled at them, and they pretended they were not looking. At least he did not have a ridiculously powdered head like theirs.

Phillip stood among a huge group of men and women who attentively listened as he unfolded the incidents of his unusual encounter with the Elizabeth who captured his heart. She was climbing some tree, trying to feed a family of squirrels when he first set eyes on her. He thought her the most unusually captivating woman he's ever met... and he certainly has met many who lusted after him, thanks to his status and charms. Quite a catch, some lady told her friend with eyes green with envy. Adrian, too, was envious, but not of Elizabeth of course—of the affection and the perfect life his cousin now led.

He spotted Elizabeth alone next to a buffet of treats with a glass of port in her hand. She did put some effort into her looks tonight but still wasn't the captivating creature described by her infatuated fiancé. She wore a burgundy frock with an embroidered low-cut bodice that revealed her bony chest and a slight swell achieved by her chokingly tight corset.

"I had a dream you promised me the first dance tonight," he said as he approached her. He put his hands in his pockets, pushing his jacket's tails behind, and leaned back against the buffet.

She turned and smiled slyly at him, one brow raised as if to rebel against her dull features. She did have a charming smile despite her plain looks and wide mouth. "You said it yourself," she replied, "it was a dream."

How does one respond to that? "A sweet dream it was." He winked, immediately regretting the lame gesture and wishing two hands would rise from the Netherworld and drag him down into a dark abyss.

"And now you should want to paint my portrait, I presume?" Her smile was making him shrink.

He rubbed his chin and smiled uneasily. "You flatter yourself, ma'am," he scoffed then drew closer and stared at her neck for a long, silent moment, "though it would be my pleasure to capture how the light falls on your neck," he finally said, his voice a bit breathy as he slowly pushed a long curl behind her shoulder.

Her smile faltered but she never looked away. "Phillip tells me you're an artist; he thinks the world of you."

Was this woman too witty or was he losing his charms? "And what do you think?"

"It wouldn't be proper of me to speak my mind."

"Let me be the judge of that." A demon has crept into his face.

"I think you have a weak character." It seemed she wasn't even waiting for the invitation.

Adrian responded with a sneer, accepting a glass of port from a footman. He took a gulp.

"And must I point out that you stand before me now out of petty envy," her stare was piercing, "I hope I'm mistaken." Her big lips stretched into a sly smile again.

"You damn sure are!" He took another gulp.

"Either way, please do take your interest elsewhere," she turned and left him.

His cup was empty. He placed it on the treats' table and looked around for a tray of liquor—an escape—but found none, so he pulled out the bottle of Laudanum from his breast pocket and took a sip.

"Is that not Adrian Blackford, Jeffrey's younger son?" He heard a woman say, she most probably stood to his left, "I hear his father disinherited him. The poor creature; it must be difficult living on scraps after having been a spoiled brat all his life." She giggled softly.

He took another sip and tucked the slim bottle back in his pocket, immediately feeling it warm his heart and spine.

"And we all thought Jeffrey incapable of making good decisions," said a man, "he proved us all wrong this time."

An urge to turn and strike the bugger bubbled in him, but his aunt took his arm at the right moment. "I want you to meet someone," she said, escorting him through the colorful crowd.

"I hope she isn't as plain as your daughter-in-law."

"It's a he," she replied, her tone casual. She stopped in front of a tall man in a lavish suit. He looked very much like a younger version of his father, except this one had long, thick hair and prominent cheekbones. As if he needed another reason to feel sorry for himself.

"It's about time we were reconciled, brother," the man said from behind an ominous smirk, subtly opening his arms to embrace Adrian.

Brother? Adrian furrowed his brows. "Joseph?"

"I didn't know you had another brother," Catherine said and pushed him into his brother's cold embrace.

Adrian gently freed himself from Joseph's sham affection.

"It seems, after all, father did not have a favourite," Joseph hissed, his hands clutching his brother's shoulders. He winked and patted Adrian's shoulder before withdrawing his tall hands.

"I well recall the estrangement being on your part," Adrian fired back, his stare high-strung, "he made enough effort to reconcile with you and your mother."

His aunt pinched his arm above the elbow in an attempt to stop a potential fight.

Joseph shrugged, his lips a thin condescending smirk. He must have been persuaded into this meeting.

His anger mounting, Adrian turned to his aunt and said, "Next time you consider inviting this creature, save me the offense and don't send me an invitation."

Joseph laughed loudly. Unlike his half-brother, he had a cool, provoking manner.

"Like you, he is my nephew," she replied, her tone authoritative, "and I only see it fit that you reconcile with him. He is, after all, your family."

"I'll leave you two to your discussion while I catch up with Uncle Charles," Joseph said, pointing with his finger at his aunt and brother. He winked tauntingly at Adrian and left.

Adrian breathed heavily. He wasn't sure if the source of his anger was this forced encounter, Phillip's presumptuous fiancée, his aunt's oppression, his failure and destitute, or all of these combined. But did it matter? He needed more Laudanum, but Lydia warned him not to use it sparingly liberally—it could be lethal, she had said, but did it matter?

He bit his tongue and marched away, accidentally shoving a few people who blocked his way to the stairs without bothering to apologize to any of them. A hand caught his sleeve.

"Retiring so soon, are we?"

He stopped and turned, and Kathleen smiled graciously. The beauty he met at the Medleys' ball days before his father's passing. His chest tightened at the thought and his jaws clenched. The Medleys' oppression has gotten the best of him, and he needed to bite back so badly. He decided the night was still young.

"Not until I found someone interesting," he took her hand and kissed it so expertly, unable to take his eyes off her face. Her ash brown hair fell down her shoulders in large curls framing her V-shaped face.

"I suppose you know this house well?" She asked.

"Well," he smiled like a boy, knowing exactly what she was suggesting, "I can show you the library; it's very... enlightening and... quiet."

She giggled softly. "I look forward to seeing the library."

***