Page 254 of Ashen Torment
“Why should I?” Elijah responds. “Those who are most severe in public are often the most corrupt in their chambers.”
His gaze slides over Nathaniel.
“Does it truly not matter to you?” I ask.
“Not at all. It was the truth, after all. As if no one present here lay with anyone. Come now.”
Julian sizes me up. “The Viscount does not seem inclined toward such... tumblings.”
“Fairfax.” Nathaniel’s voice is low and firm.
“A mere hypothesis, nothing more.”
“Keep your hypotheses to yourself, Monsieur Fairfax.”
“I crave your pardon, Viscount. It was not my intention to cause offense.”
Elijah is silent, moving slightly in his chair; his eyes remain fixed on Nathaniel, though at times they slide toward me rapid, restless.
“Will you deny me even the courtesy of a name?”
No answer.
Nathaniel does not turn.
Why?
Beside me, Julian bites the inside of his cheek, then yields to an expression of amused cruelty.
“Lord Nathaniel Brownell,” he says. “But do not expect him to deign you with his attention.”
Elijah turns toward him.
“He is the elder brother of Richard. Future Marquess of Houghton.”
“It is not necessary for you to introduce me, Fairfax.”
“And why, pray tell, should he not deign to look at me?”
Julian inclines his head and rests his gaze on Nathaniel.
“Lord Brownell, do you know this man?”
“Only by means of that article.”
Julian bursts out laughing, no longer restraining himself. Elijah remains motionless, his lips part, then close again, his nostrils flare, and color rises to his face.
“How dare you—”
I clear my throat and lean toward Nathaniel.
“Mr. Lirael is an opera singer.”
“Very renowned,” Julian adds, still amused.
Nathaniel lifts an eyebrow. “Ah. You sing in church, then.”
Julian loses control completely and laughs again, leaning forward slightly. Lavinia looks away.
