Hunters

I. Cousins

I. Cousins

"Edmund, your cousin's arrived."

Even a haze of cigars and liquor could not disguise his ominous entrance. All of London could hear his poised step toward Edmund Fenner as a thousand eyes glared upon him in envy and hatred. He was as pleased to attend this as his father's funeral, and his presence was regarded with much the same attitude.

Silence bound the kinsmen, now hairs away from one another. Once allies, their allegiance had been shattered by misplaced affections, and no longer could the one look at the other without a shred of disdain and abhorrence.

"Still flustered, Eddie?" A mordant grin appeared to elevate him higher than every other gentleman there.

"Why have you come?" Edmund demanded, fury blinding all senses and sense.

"Edmund," he sighed ruefully, "we're celebrating our cousin's marriage."

"Henry is my cousin, not yours," growled the Fenner boy.

"Ay, but he's more my brother than you'll ever know."

"Do not toss about your fancy titles like you're above all rules and-!"

"Your Grace, you made it," Henry Fenner interrupted. His glimmering smile seemed to dissolve the present conflict, but the contempt for the Duke of Cambria and Martisine could not so easily be uprooted from every man at court. With the arrival of his other cousin, Edmund skulked away with his band of companions.

"I was invited," the Duke replied, wrapping a finely clothed arm around Henry. As the smaller man patted his back for release, Vaughan Cantington's grin spread farther, laughing, "I would not have missed it for the world."

"Well surely an invitation from my mother could have deterred anyone; I would not have been surprised to lament your attendance," Henry said kindly. His green eyes glistened from drink and happiness, and he gazed at his guest with more admiration than most.

"I was in need of company," Vaughan professed. "And perhaps your pleasure shall persuade me to find my own."

"Yes," Henry beamed, "I think you would find it a most gratifying occasion. Zora's impact on my life is already most profound, and I daresay she's bewitched me. I find myself unable to recall who I was without-oh, her father's just come. I'm afraid we will have to meet again later."

After a nod from Vaughan, the golden-haired boy dashed off to greet his future-wife's father. Still grinning, the Duke spotted another familiar face in the chaos. Recognition flashed in the other's eyes as he hastened forward, and a chuckle escaped when Vaughan enveloped him in a comfortable hug.

"Zeke," Vaughan said, stepping back from their hold.

"You've come," Ezekiel Shevington stated brightly. "I haven't so much as seen you for weeks, and you've come to a wedding party. If romance is what lures you from your cave, I should have married years ago."

"I came for the gossip, Zeke, not the sickness," he answered evenly, his gaze locked on whom Henry was speaking to. "The Countess is a surly woman on her best days. If I've scarcely heard a word of the Baron of Lekenbourgh, certainly she's up in arms about her son's marriage to his daughter."

"Vaughan," Zeke said, snapping his friend's attention back to him. "Why do you care what the Countess thinks?"

Frowning, the Duke articulated the obvious. "I very rarely am entertained, Zeke, and the squirming of the court's women is the best sport to watch."

"You're mad."

"Perhaps," Vaughan admitted. "But you must admit, she'll certainly be ecstatic to hear that I attended." Zeke smiled in agreement. "Now, tell me, what do you know?"