Page 19 of Unravelling: Aria & Crispin
The trip through West London traffic was slow, the streets slick with evening drizzle. Ophelia stared out the window, her expression distant. Something was troubling her, but Aria didn't ask.
The house was a grand Kensington address-white-columned, red-bricked, with a polished brass knocker and glowing windows. As Aria stepped through the grand entrance, she was immediately captivated by the opulence that surrounded her. The foyer was dominated by a magnificent chandelier, its cascading crystals catching the light and scattering it across the marble floors in a dazzling display.
The house itself was a masterpiece of architectural elegance. Set behind gates in a secluded location, this grand house had lovely period features and large windows, flooding the home with natural light. The spacious rooms and high ceilings spoke of luxury from a bygone era.
As she moved further into the home, Aria couldn't help but feel a mixture of awe and apprehension. The grandeur of the surroundings was a stark contrast to her modest life, and she felt like an interloper in a world that wasn't hers. Yet, the warmth with which Ophelia had invited her offered a comforting anchor amidst the unfamiliar opulence.
The butler who greeted them at the door led them to the main drawing room. A tall, elegant woman in a navy sheath dress came forward, offering her hands to Ophelia, her face wreathed in a winning smile.
Ophelia's face immediately softened seeing Caroline's daughter. "Laura, darling," she said with real affection.
"Ophelia," Laura replied with emotion before her eyes were drawn to Aria. "And this must be...?"
"A friend who's been helping me out. Aria."
Laura's eyes skimmed Aria-down her dress, her shoes, and finally landed on the opal pendant. Her face faltered just a moment before she composed herself again. "Of course. Welcome."
They were ushered into a wide sitting room filled with at least thirty people. Men in sleek suits and glossy shoes. Women in elegant dresses with understated diamonds and pearls. These people had the kind of money that made decisions for the nation.
Aria stayed a pace behind, offering her arm when Ophelia needed it. She scanned the crowd, trying to make herself small. She felt the opals at her neck grow heavier with each breath.
"Ah," Ophelia said suddenly. "There he is."
A tall blonde man stood near the fireplace, back turned, speaking animatedly with another guest.
"You cheeky boy," Ophelia called out. "Couldn't greet me? Give your favourite godmother a kiss."
The man turned. And Aria felt the floor tilt.
Dorian.
Crispin's best friend.
His charming smile vanished for a heartbeat, replaced by stunned confusion, then thinly veiled disgust. Then, in the blink of an eye, the debonair mask returned. He hugged Ophelia gently, like she was made of priceless porcelain, while his dark eyes flicked coldly to Aria. She froze, then composed herself.
"Aria," Ophelia said warmly. "This is Dorian." Then she turned to Dorian. "Aria is a friend who's doing me a great favour."
Dorian barely nodded.
"My favourite godmother," he said. "You haven't aged a day."
Ophelia gave a light laugh. "Flatterer. I am your only godmother. I was beginning to think you'd vanished into thin air."
"I've been in New York for a few weeks. Private equity deal. Miserable food. But the women..." His tone was polished and slightly wistful.
Ophelia leaned on her cane slightly, tilting her head with a teasing twinkle in her eye. "Well, you look tired. They must have worn you out."
"I am tired," he said with mock drama. "But I saw your name on the guest list and couldn't resist."
He didn't look at Aria again. Not a flicker of recognition, not even a polite smile. But his eyes slid, just briefly, to the opal and ruby piece that rested delicately at her throat.
"That's a striking necklace," he said, addressing Ophelia with faux lightness. "I don't suppose it's the one you used to wear to the spring fundraisers?"
Ophelia's smile tightened slightly. "Yes. I have recently gifted it."
Dorian's gaze lingered on the pendant. His eyes never moved to Aria's face.
"A bold gift," he said, voice soft but laced with something pointed. "I hope it's appreciated."
