Retribution Falls - Chris Wooding [79]
“That’s him,” said Crake, admiring their host’s stiff brocaded jacket.
Thade was in conversation with several men, all of them stern and serious-looking. Some of them were smoking cigars and drinking brandy.
“Who’s that with him?” murmured Jez, looking at the man next to Thade.
Crake studied Thade’s companion with interest. “That’s Duke Grephen of Lapin.”
Crake knew him from the broadsheets. As ruler of one of the Nine Duchies that formed Vardia, he was one of the most influential people in the land. Only the Archduke held more political power than the dukes.
Grephen was a dour-looking man with a squarish build and a sallow face. His eyes were deeply sunken and ringed with dark circles, making him look faintly ill. His short blond hair was limp and damp with sweat. Though he was thirty-five, and he wore a fine uniform with the Lapin coat of arms on its breast, he looked like a pudgy boy playing at being a soldier.
Despite his less-than-formidable appearance, the others treated Grephen with the greatest respect. He didn’t speak often and never smiled, but when he had something to offer, his companions listened intently.
“Bet you never thought you’d see him when you came here tonight,” said a voice to their right. They looked over to see a gaunt man with white hair and bushy eyebrows, flushed from alcohol and the heat. He was wearing a Navy uniform, his buttons and boots polished to a high shine.
“Why, no, I hadn’t imagined I would,” said Jez.
“Air Marshal Barnery Vexford,” he said, taking her hand to kiss it.
“Bethinda Flay. And this is my sweetheart, Damen Morcutt.”
“Of the Marduk Morcutts,” Crake added cheerily, as he shook Vexford’s hand. Vexford wasn’t quick enough to keep the fleeting, predatory glitter from his eyes. Crake had already surmised what was on his mind. He was after Jez, and that made Crake his competition.
“You know, ferrotypes don’t do him justice,” Jez twittered. “He’s so very grand in real life.”
“Oh, he is,” agreed Vexford. “A very serious man, very thoughtful. And so devout. A credit to his family.”
“Do you know the Duke very well?” Jez asked.
Vexford glowed. “I have had the privilege of meeting the Duke on many occasions. The Archduke is also a personal friend of mine.”
“Perhaps you could introduce us to Duke Grephen?” Crake suggested, pouncing. Vexford hesitated. “We’d be honored to meet him and offer our thanks to the host. I know Bethinda would be very grateful.”
“Oh! It would be a dream come true!” she gushed. She was getting to be quite the little actress.
Vexford’s reservations were obvious. You didn’t introduce just anyone to the Duke. But he’d talked himself into a corner, and he’d seem foolish if he backed out now. “How can I refuse such a beautiful lady?” he said, with a hateful smile at Crake. Then he laid his hand on Jez’s back, claiming her as his prize, and led her over toward the Duke’s group without another look at her “sweetheart.” Crake was left to follow, rather amused by the Air Marshal’s attempt to snub him.
Vexford’s timing was perfect. The conversation had lulled, and his arrival in the group caused everyone to take notice of the newcomers.
“Your Grace,” he said, “may I introduce Miss Bethinda Flay.” After a pause long enough to be insulting, he added, “And also Damen Morcutt, of the Marduk Morcutts,” as if he’d just remembered Crake was there.
On seeing the blank looks of his companions, someone in the group exclaimed knowingly, “The Marduk Morcutts, ah, yes!” The others murmured in agreement, enough to imply that the Marduk Morcutts were indeed a fine family, even if none of them knew who the Marduk Morcutts actually were.
Jez curtsied; Crake bowed. “It’s a great honor, Your Grace,” he said. “For both of us.”
The Duke said nothing. He merely acknowledged them silently