Page 230 of Ashen Torment

“My brother writes verses, but he never grants us the privilege of reading them,” Isobel intervenes with bright eyes.

Dorian slides his legs against mine.

Irresponsible dog.

I move a hand behind me and give his shin a sharp pinch, he jolts, holding back a groan.

But he does not retreat.

Nathaniel continues the conversation.

“You should let those who read be the judge.”

Richard picks up a leaf and lets it slide into the pond.

Dorian persists, his legs brushing mine, and I cannot help but pinch him again, discreetly, to free myself from the siege. I move to the side, drawing his gaze, which is glued to my back, away with me.

“I heard that you, Viscount, will be performing at the Durants’ for Christmas.”

“Yes, Mademoiselle.”

“I look forward to attending. I have already had the pleasure of hearing you.”

The sound of a tongue clicking against a palate reaches my ears.

“Yes... I remember.”

“Really?”

Dorian, behind me, intervenes with a mocking tone.

“What an impeccable memory, Viscount,” he rumbles with his hands in his coat.

Nathaniel beside him observes impassively.

“Evander tends to remember every detail.”

“That is also why he is an excellent cellist,” Richard adds.

Dorian finally pulls out a cigarette, bringing it slowly to his lips, he strikes a match, and the flame illuminates the curve of his damned lips.

Isobel coughs, he shows no remorse.

“Forgive me.”

Nathaniel leans toward her. “It is better if you move away, sister.”

“Go ahead, I shall not get lost.” Dorian keeps his gaze fixed ahead, the smoke drifting past his face.

Richard offers his arm to Agnes, she accepts with reluctance. “Viscount?”

“I shall stay a while to watch the... ducks.”

I watch them walk away and remain beside Dorian, who continues to smoke calmly.

“It has a peculiar scent,” I say, gesturing to the cigarette between his fingers.

He inhales slowly, the smoke sliding between his lips and nose.