Page 15 of Ashen Torment
My mother inclines her head toward me.
“Tell Étienne to refrain from speaking French in public.”
She then exchanges a nod with the Marchioness, keeps her eyes fixed upon her, and settles beside them.
“Evander...”
I turn and see Richard, seated a few pews behind. With a tilt of his head, he indicates the place beside him. I move along the aisle, careful not to disturb the order of the congregation, and take my seat there.
“This morning I paused to read the article in The Illustrated Times about you.”
“Indeed?”
He raises an eyebrow, scrutinizing my expression. “It did not flatter you, then?”
“Why do you not have your poems published in the papers?”
“Because the meaning would remain obscure to them regardless,” he replies, as though it were an obvious truth.
“Precisely.”
“You are truly ruthless,” he murmurs, struggling to stifle a laugh.
“You should not laugh in a sacred place, Richard,” I retort. “If your brother Nathaniel were present, he would certainly rebuke you.”
He turns toward me, his eyes bright with amusement, but his gaze slides rapidly past my shoulder and his smile becomes more composed, formal.
A sharp scent of burnt cedar reaches me.
“My lord,” Richard says in a polite tone, “what a pleasure to encounter you.”
Do not tell me that...
A light rustle signals someone taking the seat beside me.
I turn slowly. Lord Vasiliev Ashford is seated there, an eyebrow raised and the corner of his mouth arched in a sardonic smile.
His gaze brushes over Richard and then slides onto me.
“Gentlemen.”
4
Fall Down And Worship Me
Evander
It is curious how certain individuals manage to impose themselves even within the sacred silence of a church.
Richard inclines his head toward him. “It is a surprise to encounter you here, Lord Dorian.”
A ghost of a smile lifts the corner of his lips.
“It would seem I ought to devote myself to prayer more frequently.”
It does not take much for my jaw to tighten, however much I attempt to restrain it.
“Do you not agree, Viscount?”
