The night wind livened the warm air of the dance hall. Those within glared at the offending cold as it ruffled jeweled skirts and embroidered coats.
Theo watched the curtain’s swell and the shiver move across the floor. Someone cleared their throat. He had been in the middle of a sentence when he’d trailed off. Theo smiled in apology and ducked from the conversation as gracefully as allowed. The departure earned him veiled glances, which he was accustomed to. The older generations would content themselves with looks. Whispers behind hands and fans would come from those his own age. Theodore was an Ashlock, the ancient name synonymous with flawless breeding, unspeakable wealth, vast holdings and a strong penchant for eccentricity.
But there was a reason for that. Theo managed to get out one of the many glass doors before the servants shut them against the growing gale. The gardens flower bed’s, impeccably trimmed before the party, now strewn across the marbled walkways, crunched under his shoes. Air whistled in his ears and Theo grinned. He didn’t mind the conversation of his peers but this…. he liked stories. And the winds always had the best ones.