Theo idly swirled the amber liquid in his tumbler, one hand tucked into his pocket as he faced the expansive windows providing a view of the back garden of the townhouse. It was cold, but the extreme chill of February had finally dispersed, leaving the garden snow and frost free, but still too cold to be used for this little fundraiser.
Glancing out into the large living room he was standing in, Theo scanned the crowd, half-turning and bringing his drink up for a slow sip. The room was elegantly lit with ambient lights, French doors opening up to a seemingly equally as large and elegant dining room where the hors d'oeuvre table was laden with tiny delicacies–the wide selection had expensive caviar and foie gras alongside salmon and lobster, to name but a few, with a modest but equally as expensive vegetarian section. Theo was sure he'd seen a tiny avocado toast platter. There was no sign of the partner he'd had to bring along with him, Exchange policy dictating that they shouldn't go haring off on their own, however much it happened by accident. Dune had delighted in the opportunity, a little too much for Theo's comfort, but he'd given up his card quickly enough for her to get herself something appropriate.
Enough people were scattered around, idly chatting, to make the fundraiser look either moderately successful or exclusive, depending on perspectives. Theo usually turned down the invitations he received from the few who were aware an heir of a wealthy English Earl lived in East haven and sought to take advantage of it. This time he'd accepted, an agenda in mind. Few understood the significance of his name, but he was confident that more than a few on Baxendale's board of trustees recognised it, which was where the invitation had come. None were vampires, then, or they had a dark sense of humour.
But Theo was not in a particularly charitable mood, even if he'd dropped an acceptable donation for them. Baxendale had connections to the murder, and Theo doubted it was simply rogue students. This smacked of more profound knowledge and deeper pockets, even if he doubted the school as an institution condoned the actions of the one or several individuals behind it. Recent discoveries reinforced the idea that it wasn't someone acting alone; the scenes were too different, not at all the work of the same ritualist.
Someone approached, two ladies with their champagne glasses held elegantly, and Theo returned their greeting with a polite smile and a nod, exchanging a few quick pleasantries. Keeping up appearances, as he had no desire to get on the wrong side of the wealthy, however much he felt more comfortable without the constraints of high society.
The two women did not immediately leave, instead dragging him into discussing the newest project for Baxendale, the one they were fundraising for. Theo was well-trained enough not to show impatience, engaging the discussion with his dry English wit. One laughed when he offered a remark on the character of Baxendale students, gloved hand reaching out to touch his forearm in her amusement.
