A Broken Inheritance

Chapter 77: With All Due Ceremony

He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.

"I'll be back," Anastasia murmured, already stepping away.

She moved toward Tom, who was finishing a conversation with Arcturus Selwyn and an elderly Greengrass matron with eyebrows like carved ivory. She didn't interrupt with words—just a touch, the faintest brush of her fingers against the inside of his wrist.

His head turned, instantly.

"My love," he said softly, his tone shifting at once. Not warm. But personal.

"Shall we greet them?" she murmured, tilting her head subtly in the direction of the Blacks.

Tom followed the motion with his eyes. Walburga. Orion. Regulus. A perfect little portrait.

He didn't smile, but his mouth twitched like he wanted to. "Of course."

They approached together, silent but unified. Walburga noticed them first, standing slightly straighter. Orion turned a second later. Regulus looked down and away. Anastasia almost pitied him.

Tom greeted them as though stepping onto a political stage. There was no warmth in it, only performance: a courteous dip of the head to Orion, a gallant hand pressed briefly to Walburga's gloved fingers. The words were all correct—something about how grateful he was for their presence, how fine Regulus looked, how meaningful it was to see such respected lineage gathered here.

And it worked. Walburga was luminous under the attention, her posture rigid with pride. Orion's nod was brisk, but approving. Regulus barely blinked.

Anastasia stayed silent. She knew the rhythm of this part. She'd play the ornament until it served her otherwise.

"I'll fetch refreshments," she said lightly. "Regulus, would you join me?"

He blinked. "I've already got—" he gestured vaguely toward the untouched glass sitting on the piano.

She didn't wait. "Then bring it."

Tom's gaze cut toward her, just a hair sharper than before. But he said nothing.

She leaned in as she passed him, lips close enough to brush his cheek. "Just a moment."

He tilted his head slightly, watching her as if he'd let her off a leash and wanted to see how far she'd run.

"Of course."

They slipped from the circle without much fuss. Walburga had already turned back to Tom, her voice light and interested. Orion was nodding along. Regulus followed her without being asked.

They reached a quieter corner—still within the drawing room, but behind a screen of tall ferns and a quartet of enchanted candelabras that flickered green and gold.

Anastasia turned to him.

She turned to him. "You look well."

Regulus gave a short laugh. "I'm surviving."

Her brow arched slightly. "That's an improvement."

He shrugged. "New suit helps."

She looked him over, gaze skimming the sharp lines of his collar, the meticulous knot of his tie. "Vienna?"

"Paris," he replied. "Cousin Marius's tailor."

"Not bad."

She let that pass.

"How have you been?"

He gave a little shrug, glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "You know. Alive."