Lady Carroway smiled brilliantly. “Then I am able to indulge my affection and my irritation all at once,” she declared. “How pleasing!” She gestured at a footman, who headed over towards her. “Please, get the Lord Sorcier a glass of wine.”
Elias lifted his face from his hands and glared at the viscountess. Inspiration flickered in his tired mind, however, and he suddenly turned to Dora. “Miss Ettings,” Elias said. “Have you plans to attend any more balls? I normally avoid them, but I shall endeavour to make my way to at least one if you will promise me a dance.”
Dora blinked at Elias. She had been readying some witty insult to level his way—but the unexpected pleasantry rocked her back in her seat. Her mind blanked, and she found herself searching vainly for a proper reply as his hazy golden eyes focussed intently upon her.
What is this? Dora wondered. The distant, fluttering feeling had returned to her stomach, now redoubled in strength. It was a lantern warmth, mixed with confusion and just a hint of nervousness. Was it a pleasant feeling, or was it uncomfortable? She could not seem to decide.
Elias was still looking at Dora, and she somehow did not want him to look away.
“Vanessa and I are going to Lady Cushing’s ball,” Dora said. “But I will save no dances for you, my lord, on the supposition that you will not show up. If you happen to venture into the jaws of high society after all, then I suppose I shall reward your unusual sociability with any two dances you like.”
Elias smiled grimly. “The lady misjudges my determination,” he said. But Dora saw that he had halfway directed the comment towards Lady Carroway, and she realised belatedly that the entire exchange had been meant simply to infuriate Albert’s mother once again.
The flutterings turned ever more nervous, and Dora decided finally that they were not a pleasant feeling, after all.
Lady Carroway had a slight frown upon her face now. But though Elias had clearly baited her, the expression was more uncertain than frustrated. Albert’s mother glanced towards Dora, who dropped her eyes to her half-finished soup.
“Do you know,” Lady Carroway said slowly. “I believe I have been deceived, Lord Sorcier.” Her eyes flickered to Albert’s silver right arm. “You are so very good at being temporarily unpleasant... somehow, you managed to convince me to forget what a generous, loyal man you can be, even with such a perfect physical reminder before me.”
Elias shook his head. “I am unpleasant because I loathe expensive, superficial things, Lady Carroway,” he said. “I assure you, it is not some intricate plan to deceive people. I have often thought I would be better served if I could keep my frustrations to myself.” He gestured towards the table. “Everything I see here tempts me to bitterness. All of you—through only so much fault of your own—see only a normal dinner spread. Do you know what I see? Truly?”
Lady Carroway leaned forward slightly, now with genuine interest on her face. “Tell me, please,” she said.
“You don’t want to hear this,” Albert warned his mother quietly. There was a resignation on his features that suggested he did not expect the conversation to go well.
“I do,” Lady Carroway said. “Spare me no pleasantries, Lord Sorcier. My son is used to your sharp tongue, and Miss Ettings seems inured enough to its bite. This time, I will endure, and you may speak your mind.”
“As you wish,” Elias said. “I am sure I will remind you of your graciousness forthwith, Lady Carroway.” He met her eyes directly. “When I look upon this table, I see all the people who might have starved to set it. I see a lavish meal painstakingly prepared by an entire staff, when half such lavishness would not have materially harmed anyone.”
His fingers curled in front of him, and his jaw clenched. “Meanwhile, there are so many starving in the workhouses as we speak. Some children, innocent of wrongdoing. Some soldiers, just like your son—men who had no money or connections waiting for them when they came home, and no Lord Sorcier to mend their broken limbs. Their blood kept all these very fine tables safe from Napoleon... and now that they are home, it has earned them not one scrap of bread, nor even the consideration of being allowed polite discussion over dinner.”
Lady Carroway did not respond to this immediately. Her face was so carefully composed that Dora could not eke out the slightest hint of what she might be thinking.
“Father has always supported your causes in the House of Lords,” Albert said quietly. “And there are many charitable cases, just like Mrs Dun’s orphanage.” It sounded like a rote response—an attempt at reasonable comfort which might have sometimes yielded fruit.
“No one gives what they could, Albert!” Elias hissed. “Everyone gives what they please—and certainly not without plenty of self-congratulations for their miserly gestures. With one hand, they raise grain tariffs, muster soldiers, and create the workhouses. With the other, they deign to save a few poor souls from the very hell they made. This country is mad. It’s rotten. It’s unthinkable, and none of you can see it.” Elias shook his head and shoved to his feet. There was a wild, frenetic despair in his manner that certainly had not been helped by his exhaustion. “I cannot eat a fine meal while some poor girl lays dying,” he said. “It is not in me. But I suppose it is in you.”
Albert widened his eyes. Dora saw a hint of real injury in his expression, and she thought this time that Elias must have gone further than he had ever gone before. The Lord Sorcier stormed for the door, his steps haunted by that horrible cloud of fury and self-loathing.
The other side of the table stared in their direction, shocked by the display. Auntie Frances
