Page 1 of Thomas
Prologue
FIVE YEARS EARLIER
Lord Cameron Dwight Ashford hated parties. Banquets, fêtes, traditional ceremonies or any other activity that required him to make trite and inevitably hollow conversation where everyone ignored the more meaningful and important aspects of life.
He didn’t want to talk about the weather. Nor the food and the ambiance. Nor howsplendideveryone looked. He did not think he was above this kind of banal conversation. He simply… didn’t want to be bothered. Fruitless words, wasted energy.
Which was why he kept to himself as he moved briskly through the warmly lit corridors of the Havenwrath estate. The candelabra lining the decorated walls gleamed with firelight. Tiny flames flickered and danced above the heads of the high-bred vampires dressed in their finest attire. Long silks—dresses, coats and even capes—perfectly pressed, tailored and pleated in rich, dazzling colors.
Cameron, too, was dressed to impress in a matte-black suit that sharply defined the lines of his broad shoulders, long legs and tall posture. A matching silk tie and classic white shirt kept the whole ordeal understated, which was what he had requested of his personal tailor and manservant, Lennon.That wily oldcoot, Cameron thought fondly. If he absolutely had to leave the house, he may as well do it with style.
“Lord Ashford! What a pleasure to see you this evening,” Lord Bankroft called out cheerily, halting Cameron in his lap around the party rooms in an effort to find the least occupied and most unobtrusive corner.
Cameron stopped, straightened and plastered on a warm smile. “Lord Bankroft—a pleasure to see you as well. How are you this evening?” The man was short and slight compared with Cameron’s hulking frame, and had skin the warm tan of butterscotch. Cameron’s own shade was a darker, tawny brown.
“Mighty fine, thank you. It’s rare to have you in attendance at these aristocracy functions.”
“I keep busy with the business of running the family estate,” Cameron said, relying on his go-to answer for open-ended comments about his lack of participation within the aristocracy. Not a lie, per se. Adequate as far as explanations went.
The only reason he was attendingthisparty was because occasionally, his parents—taking a brief pause in all their overseas travel and personal entertainment—deigned to notice his introverted and antisocial behavior, then proceeded to badger and harass him to “get out more” and “find a mate already.”
So, here he was. An obligatory night out to shut them up until their next quarterly bombardment.
At thirty-five, he should be deep in the trenches of securing a partner to bond with for the longevity and prosperity of his clan… which sounded like a pain in the ass. The possible end result being forever subjected to benign and trite conversation in his very own home.Every day.
The thought made him dizzy with stress and exhaustion.
“Ah yes, well, it’s very good to have you here—and on such a fine evening.” Lord Bankroft lifted his champagne glass. “Such lovely weather we’re having.”
Cameron raised his whiskey in turn. “Indeed, my lord.”
“Mm, and everyone looks splendid, do they not?”
“Of course, my lord,” Cameron said, clenching his jaw in another grin. “If you’ll excuse me—please, enjoy your evening.”
“Yes, yes, of course. You as well.”
Find a corner, hide in it.An hour should be sufficient. Then, even his younger sister, Rachelle, could verify his being here and serve as a witness to their parents the next time they talked. He could practically hear her voice now.
“Oh yes, Cam went to the Havenwrath party with me—I believe he stayed for a long while.”
That would do it.
When he picked an open doorway at random and stepped inside, the chandelier overhead glittered with white light. Joyous piano music floated through the air amidst laughter and clinking champagne flutes. A quartet of musicians was set in the far corner and some vampires danced near them. Others were standing in clustered groups, talking loudly and animatedly.
This room was overwhelming. Too crowded and noisy.
He skirted the perimeter, nodding and lifting his glass when a vampire noticed him and called out his name. Cameron made haste, as if he were very busy and had somewhere to be. No time for stopping and chatting.
The next room over was some kind of study and thankfully, much less occupied. The air was warm and the walls were lined with glossy bookcases fashioned in dark wood. Above them, forest-green-and-golden art deco wallpaper stretched up to the ceiling in ornamental diamond shapes. A large fireplace burned brightly along the back wall and was surrounded by soft leather couches.
Seated casually around an expensive-looking coffee table (tragically strewn with cocktail glasses and no coasters) were a group of vampires. Their number wasn’t intimidating enough so as to immediately ward Cameron off, but not too few that he felt odd walking up and casually observing their conversation.
Or, you could carry on and secure your hiding spot, he thought. The cozy room and soft intimacy therein felt inviting, somehow, but the threat of tedious conversation remained.
Ignoring the pull, he stepped forward, eyeing the open archway leading to another adjoining space. But when he heard a familiar name, he paused.
“… by Aldous Huxley. It was a much different reading experience compared withBrave New World. Interesting what three decades and a plunge into psychedelics can do to a man.”
