𝗦𝗜𝗫 𝗜 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗮𝗿 𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲

78 3 0
                                    

2012

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

2012

♱ ♱

A T H E N A' S  P O V





I continued looking around the locked rooms Lady Eleanor specifically requested to keep an eye on. This dinner party hasn't even started and yet the feeling that something is wrong seems to be unshakeable. If someone was going to rob Lady Eleanor, why today? Yes, the guest list is filled with suspects with great motive, but it's virtually impossible to get anything out its glass cover without getting caught. Are her jewels even the target?

I have too many unanswered questions. There's definitely something wrong.

Blackwood interrupts my thoughts as he silently ushers me to the dining hall. Lady Eleanor had arranged the dinner with an air of exclusivity, the long oak table set with the finest china and candlelight casting warm shadows across the walls. I chose a seat toward the middle of the table, an ideal position from which to observe the interactions of the other guests.

Lady Eleanor Pembroke sat at the head of the table, her striking silver hair pinned in a delicate chignon, her gown a shade of deep navy that complemented the estate's dark, old-world ambiance. She spoke with the grace and charm that had made her a fixture in high society for decades. Her voice carried warmth, but I could sense the underlying worry behind her poised exterior. As if she could make her anxiety any more obvious.

Beside Lady Eleanor sat Lord Ashcroft, his face slightly more relaxed since our last conversation. On the opposite side of the table, Lord Wycliffe. His eyes ran across the table, constantly analysing the room. He engaged in conversation sparingly, offering polite responses to questions but never revealing any detail.

Next to Lord Wycliffe was Lady Fitzroy. She was, as always, the epitome of high society glamour, her laughter light and infectious, her mannerisms exaggerated just enough to keep everyone captivated. Yet, I saw through her practiced performance — Arabella's eyes were sharp, calculating, and hungry for control over the room. She leaned in and out of conversation like a spider spinning a web.

Across from Lady Fitzroy was Lady Victoria Harrington. She was one of the only guests I hadn't seen that night or spoken to. My eyes narrowed as I took in her features.

Plastic surgery. I concluded. It makes sense, she was a social media influencer. They always have to keep up with the beauty requirements. I could feel that there was something more about her, however. Without her nose job and blepharoplasty, she would look an awful lot similar to Lady Fitzroy.

That's it. I deduced that Lady Harrington was related to Lady Fitzroy. Cousins, to be exact. How did I miss that?

Victoria was understated, more refined. Her beauty was in her cool elegance and understated wit. She spoke rarely, but when she did, her words were precise, designed to leave a lasting impression.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖈𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖊𝖈𝖊𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓, jim moriartyWhere stories live. Discover now