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Eddie wasn’t exactly an expert in staff dress, unless it came to what people wore behind the counter at McDonald’s or Burger King. But he was pretty sure most butlers wore white button-downs and most maids had white aprons. Like he’d seen on Downton Abbey.
Mourning had been made manifest at all levels of the residence.
The room they were shown into was all dark wood and shelves of leather books with gleaming gold lettering on the spines. There were no mirrors to be covered in the masculine space, but the pall that was around the house had nevertheless managed to change the weight of the air somehow.
The Brothers lined up against the far wall, standing shoulder to shoulder, clasping their hands together in front of their hips, and setting their heads to face forward.
Ad wandered over there as well, but Eddie couldn’t stay still. He paced down to the partner’s desk by the cold hearth. The blotter was marked with fine old accessories made of green stained glass and weathered brass overlays in an ivy pattern. The inkpots, trays, and bowls were part of a set, and he picked one up, even though it was rude.
Turning the box over, he read the tiny inscription on the bottom.
Tiffany & Co.
He was just replacing the thing exactly where it had been when footsteps approached.
Stepping away from the desk, he did not join the others, for a reason he couldn’t quite figure out. Maybe it was the need to pace around that had dogged him since the second he’d set foot on the property.
The male who entered the library was accompanied by the butler and was obviously the head of everything, and as soon as he was through the doorway, the latter stepped back and closed the library up.
The master of the household’s fine clothes were likewise all black, no color in the tie, the pocket square, even the socks. With his dark hair slicked back, he looked suave. With the dark circles under his eyes, he looked tragic.
“Forgive me,” the male said to his guests as he came forward. “But we offer no libation or fortification unto you as we are in mourning.”
Tohrment stepped out of the lineup and nodded. “We completely understand.”
Good, they’re doing this in English, Eddie thought.
The male went around behind the desk. The carved chair had already been pulled out, as if in anticipation of him sitting down, but he did not lower himself, though he got into position like he was going to…
On the verge. Similar to the way the guy seemed to be almost ready to break down into tears.
“Your loss is an unimaginable tragedy,” Tohrment said. “The King would like to extend his personal sorrow unto you and your shellan.”
The male inclined his head. “I thank you for your expression of condolence. And for his majesty’s.”
Tohrment approached the desk and took out a small envelope. Placing it on the blotter, he slid it forward.
There was writing on the front, in a heavy black script, and the male’s hands trembled as he picked up the missive and turned it over. On the back, securing the flap, there was a round red wax seal with a crest on it.
On account of the shaking, it was an effort for the envelope to be opened—
The gasp was so loud, Eddie jumped even as the male himself seemed incapable of movement. And then after what seemed like an eternity, the sire of the vampire who had been killed closed his eyes, put the envelope to his heart, and sagged into his chair.
“The King has a son,” Tohrment said roughly. “He wanted to convey to you—”
The Brother had to clear his throat, and it was weird. All of a sudden the others came forward to back up their leader—but not as a show of solidarity for the benefit of the head of house. Rather, it was for Tohrment, who took several deep breaths like he was suffocating.
As the head of the household opened his eyes again, and Vishous placed his hand on Tohrment’s shoulder, the Brother’s voice was nearly inaudible. “Forgive me my lack of… decorum. I, too, lost a son… so I find composure at the moment a bit difficult to summon.”
The male’s face slowly lifted. Then he was getting out of his chair and coming around the desk. The Brothers made room for him.
“You have lost…”
“I have lost… a son. Yes.” Tohrment cleared his throat again. “I am… so very sorry… I know how you are suffering right now.”
With a choked noise, the male stepped in and embraced the Brother—and Tohrment wrapped his arms around what was a stranger by acquaintance, and kin by happenstance. As Eddie watched them stand together, he reflected how you never knew what someone had been through. He’d never have guessed the Brother who appeared to be the most put together had such a fault line in his life.
