Walter de Ville's Advocate

Chapter Sixteen

I walked down the hall, the grand staircase, and through the foyer with resolve and intentionality. There were no people wandering the corridors, and all sounds came from the dining hall with random chatter and the strings I had arranged for tonight.

Three pauses to reflect; where a human might breathe deeply.

One, Evie had accepted my proposal. Just like a mistaken invite could give me free rein of one's house, she was now bound to marry me.

Two, Evie seems to have tricked me from the start, and oh, was she convincing. I had been caught completely unaware, but now that I knew . . .

Three, Evie was in for a surprise tonight, as she'll soon find out just how powerful the handsome, wealthy host she thought she'd ensnared truly is . . .

I had myself under enough control to pull myself back into my human visage, knowing that there would be just the right moment within the span of the rehearsal dinner to reveal myself. I would play it by ear, waiting and seeking out the opportunity to make Evie pay for the way she had me practically eating out of her hand.

This afternoon I had been damn near frolicking through my manor!

"It's time," I grinned devilishly as I threw both of the doors open.

Everyone turned to look at me, their conversations dropping, but their masks still held high.

Lucy, dressed in white, joined me. "I heard a rumor that you have some good news," she whispered.

"Indeed," I grinned.

Viktoria lifted a shoulder and glanced about the room, which is when I took a full survey.

Most of the guests tonight were older, having claimed the positions of family elders with their years of servitude. The women all wore darker clothes, just as the men, but there were few in attendance to begin with . . . and then there were my wives, dressed in strapless gowns of white and black, respectively.

Not a single person here wore a red gown.

"And where is Evelyn Alexander, hmm?" I asked, eyes falling to those I knew to be Alfred and Oliver Alexander.

Alfred looked just as puzzled at her absence, but Oliver spoke up, though timidly. "Perhaps she is running behind. Don't most ladies take an awful while with their hair and makeup?"

Without moving my head, my eyes flicked over to my other wives that clearly knew how to be ready and present on time. "We'll wait," I decided, flashing my eyes. As I walked towards the far end of the table that had two chairs readied for myself and my new bride, the sea of guests parted without a word spoken between them.

I gestured to them and took a seat, signaling for them to find their ways to their chairs and followed my action.

Fifteen minutes we sat there, in near total silence, save for the cello playing a series of solos.

No one spoke, not even my audacious, eldest wife.

I'm not sure how many times I checked my pocket watch – my slouching in the ornate chair likely giving the mien of an indolent prince, when she knocked softly at the door and everyone turned to watch her walk in.

Some might say that a masquerade of so few people, among a group too well acquainted with one another, was a useless endeavor. On the contrary, it harkened back to the elegance the world once held for social engagements, before once formal functions became such casual affairs.

And with the bride-to-be now in our company, there would be no question about this newcomer's position here at my side.

Oliver would say it best upon her sitting at the table, about how much she looked the part.