Jacamo Delacy Rothbec, a poet, swayed were he stood half way down the long table in the private room in the Paper Tiger. For Jacamo, like most of the company had been drinking since some time that afternoon.
A pair of waiting staff bustled out with the last of the dinner things and a pair of musicians in the corner tuned their instruments.
Along red clothed table, laden with bottles of fine drinks and dishes of small delicacies, sat or leaned a selection of fine gentlemen and ladies, writers, actors, academics and even a minor politician. They were all friends of Jean De Silver, and with them sat Niccolette and Uzoji, who Jean, nay Genevieve counted as her dearest friends.
Yet of course, not a one of the assembled company knew her secret.
That evening she was ressed in a doubled breasted black and gold velvet brocade waistcoat, high collared white shirt, black silk cravat, a pair of black trousers with a subtle pinstripe and a pair of highly shined black boots. The outfit was finished off with gold cuff-links, cravat pin and a find gold watch chain.
"Jac, be a good fellow and sit down before you fall over. And thank you for your kind words."
Genevieve smiled broadly from her seat at the head of the table, a glass of very fine Gorian brandy in one elegant pale hand, and a cigar in the other. Her own speech was also a little slurred around the edges, and full of good humour.
"However, a host is only as gracious as his guests."
She raised her brandy glass in toast to the company. Her merry grey eyes travel along the faces of her friends, Jean's friends. She felt a sorrow in her heart that if they knew the truth, most of these people would shun her as if she had plague.
Her eyes settled on Niccolette and her smile brightened once more, her young friend had changed and grown since she sat in Genevieve's lecture theatre.
She inclined her head deeply in thanks to her and the handsome Mugrobi that sat beside her. The two were such a good match and it made Genevieve's heart swell to see them.
She raised her glass to them in a toast.
Earlene Avesta, an opera singer originally from Hesse, She sat on Jean's right touched Genevieve's arm softly and smiled, regarding her from under lowered lashes.
"It has been a most enjoyable evening Jean darling. Tell me, do you have any plans for later…"
Earlene's meaning was clear, even to Genevieve's drink fogged mind. She regarded her friend, the singer really was beautiful. Raven black hair and a fine boned face and deep brown almond shaped eyes, Genevieve's mouth went dry and her mind began to spin. Outwardly Jean gave Elisabeth a lopsided charming grin and laid an elegant hand on hers and said, i a soft voice husky from drink.
"Well Lene my dear, we shall have to see."
She winked and gave a slightly bawdy chuckle before carrying moving off. Oh but Earlene was beautiful and Genevieve was just on the wrong side of drunk to resist that particular temptation but still sober enough to make her escape.
"Now if you'll excuse me, I simply must mingle."
Genevieve squeezed her hand as she stood, a little unsteady and moved down the table, pausing here and there to share a few words. Then she dropped into the empty seat beside Niccolette with a broad beaming smile.
"It so good to see both of you, it truly is. I'm sorry I didn't get chance to chat before dinner. Tell, how are you both?"