According to my young master, the dinner party was nothing short of abysmal. Despite the Marchioness Midford's ability to keep appearances and remain a perfect hostess, Ciel would always and forever be considered a difficult guest who lacked the ability to be pleasant company in these types of social situations.

Striding to his room, he kept angry heels abated, so as not to announce his fury to the women having coffee in the parlour I could identify his step, and I was waiting for him in the off-chance he would require something. As he shut the door with a weak click, he gave a groaning sigh, as if to expend the pleasant disposition that was such a chore to display. He glanced into my corner where I stood in shadow. It was a tired expectation, my constant presence, and I wondered if he was beginning to resent me for it.

He said nothing as he reclined on the couch Heeled shoes were kicked off his feet and laid on the carpet with carelessness. To further rebel against the strain of maintaining airs, he tossed a leg over the arm of the stiff couch and ripped the cravat from his neck before flinging it by his shoes. He buried his face in the crook of his elbow, a blind stare at the shadowed ceiling. With each breath he sank further into his rude posture, legs widening all the while and I wondered if he was doing this to bait me.

"Sebastian, more wine." He held out a cupped hand with added insistence.

I had been serving dinner that evening at the Marchioness's reluctant request. She would never admit it outright, but a discussion with Tanaka had confirmed one of my suspicions. The Midfords were short-staffed. They had enough maids to maintain the opulence of the house and enough grounds men to keep the gardens pruned, but they did not have the house funds to keep so many footmen employed on their estate. Their reduction of house staff left them with two footmen, not including their butler, and that count was insufficient for entertaining a party of twelve for the evening. Tanaka was more than happy to give his assistance for the occasion, and she accepted my help as well, so long as I tied back my hair, to which she commented, "It is most disgraceful my nephew tolerates your haggard appearance."

I pondered that perhaps "haggard" would not be a word the young master would use to describe me.

The young master was told that there would be no discussion of "the plans" over dinner that evening, much to his relief. They thought it best to reserve this news for Ciel's occasion, the ball, rather than a quiet dinner. Frances did not think this was appropriate dinner conversation anyway; Excitement and digestion do not pair well. The ease the young master was placed under was wrenched from him when he discovered who he would be dining with: the Roycestons (whom he never met) and the Harcourts.

The Earl Royceston was known for his civil service in lawful trade, and the young master had something to gain from being in the man's good graces. The whole of the family appeared good-natured, and judging from the girth of them all, had an appreciation for fine dining. If the Roycestons were rotund and jovial, the Harcourts contrasted in the worst ways. The Marquis Harcourt was hard-edged, every angle of his face sculpted to give him the appearance of a man who looked at the world in perpetual condemnation. Looking at the Marchioness Harcourt, it was apparent where Joann, her youngest son and one of Ciel's former classmates, received his looks. Unfortunately, years of bitterness and discontent erased whatever softness she may had possessed in her youth.

Of course the Marchioness would allow the Harcourts to bring their youngest son with them, for the Roycestons were bringing their daughter Isabel. It was no secret that the Royceston's middle daughter Isabel had garnered the reputation of "odd bird" among the social elite. She was broaching the age of twenty and no suitor had yet given proposal. Their eldest had been married for a number of years and their youngest was already betrothed. I believe the Roycestons were desperate to hand over Isabel to anyone who would have her, and the Harcourts were equally desperate to be rid of Joann, who showed little interest in anyone at all. It is remarkable what one hears in the halls of the Midford estate, among these gossipy maids.

As we servers directed the guests to their seats, Joann nearly gasped when he finally recognized me, to which I placed a hand on his elbow so he would not trip into his chair. Ciel sat opposite and smirked as he signalled a hush across the arrangements of daffodils and tulips running the table. Tanaka, always privy to it all without someone having to tell him, gave the slightest nod of amusement and then made rounds with a cheerful sauvignon.

Ciel had a fortunate seat at the table, where he sat between his two cousins and furthest from the Harcourts who would only wish to inquire Phantomhive's short time at Weston. As a result, the Marquis Harcourt was sat at the end opposite Marquis Midford, with his wife to the right. In a most unfortunate seating arrangement, the Marchioness Harcourt had to endure Edward's dinner guest, a woman Marchioness Midford was meeting for the first time that evening.

It was a scene to behold that morning when Edward announced after breakfast that he was making the trip to London to "fetch his lady friend" for the dinner that evening.

His mother replied, "Had she no means to leave London for holiday?"

"Mother, were you under the impression she is a colleague?"

Her tea cup trembled in her hand while her voice remained levelled. "I am certain that I raised a gentleman, so the only conclusion to be made is that she is a well-bred young lady."

"If by 'well-bred' you mean she is from an estate outside London, then I regret you are mistaken, Mother." He rose from the table and I heard the distinct chittering of maids in the other room. Ciel remained silent, intent on his paper while his Aunt Francis left the room to take her frustrations on a carpet hanging outside, which was in need of a good beating.

Young Edward brought home a young woman by the name of Jacquelyn Gardener, who had a sweet voice but held a certain brazenness that my young master found charming. She wore a simple yet elegant dress made of fine chiffon that she could not have afforded herself, for one can barely make a living acting in a West End theatre. Short sleeves pillowed over her shoulders, and a high sash flattered an hourglass figure that was not the product of corsetry. Layers of delicate material shifted and flowed with each graceful movement. Despite her humble origins, Edward was entranced by her vivid character. Her gazed at her surroundings with such wonder, and her laugh was wide and genuine. Jacquelyn showed great efforts to show the table etiquette she had learned. For her, the dinner party (she made the mistake of admitting it was her first) was no different than any performance. The dress Edward had bought for her was no different than theatre costume. Since this was such a novel occasion for her, she was probably the only woman at the table who could say she enjoyed herself that evening.

Isabel really tried her best to engage in conversation, but much of the intellectual topics spurred by Earl Phantomhive and the Earl Royceston were beyond her. Mrs Gardener giggled when one of Isabel's croquettes fell on the floor, and Joann tried not to make eye contact, even if he was polite in his conversation. Grace and poise should appear effortless for a young lady, and Isabel showed all the poise of a new-born fawn, compared to Elizabeth who sat as proud and silent as a doe. By the time the second course was being served, a savoury pudding, perfect decorum became something of an unspoken challenge among the ladies of the table. Jacquelyn caught on quickly with astounding mimicry, which became the greatest irritation for Marchioness Harcourt.

The countess Royceston, who seemed the sort of woman who always endeavoured to keep a conversation light and pleasant, stated, "Your wait staff is so accommodating, Francis." She plucked the pepper from a nearby cruet stand for her soup and her eyes flashed upward to spot me across the room changing a bottle of water at my corner of the table. Ciel caught the slight gesture.

Before the Marchioness uttered a "thank you," Ciel jeered, "Two are mine."

"I beg pardon?" Eyes went wide at the table as the Midfords took interest in their wine glasses.

"Yes, this one wears my crest on his lapel, and Tanaka has served my house since my predecessor."

"I see." The Countess Royceston did not wish to state the obvious; The Midfords had to rely on their nephew's help to cater this dinner party. Now the Marchioness's request for the young Phantomhive to bring Tanaka seemed underhanded.

"If I may," I bowed my head, "It has been a great honour to serve such a magnificent table. Never have I seen such a display, such that only the Marchioness could orchestrate. Also, the Marquis' selection of wine is unmatched… including that of my master's." I knew I would pay for that last comment, as I saw Ciel crumple his napkin in his lap.

By main course the conversation was doomed to steer toward Ciel when Jacquelyn made the comment, "I would so love to attend a real ball," to which Edward chirped, "Well, Ciel, my cousin here," Francis bristled, "has invited me to his charity ball the beginning of the season. Would you be my plus one?"

Somewhere a fork clattered to the floor.

Of course Earl Royceston began to inquire the purpose of the charity, and was impressed that Ciel was making such a charitable donation to Lewisham Hospital. Immediately the conversation headed towards philanthropy and Elizabeth, having been silent for a while lifted her head and announced, "You know, it was my idea that my fiancé hold the charity ball!"

Ciel took a greater interest in his lamb and carded potatoes.

Joann spoke up in his breathy tone, "I think it's very sweet of you, Ciel, to listen to Lady Elizabeth."

Marquis Harcourt asked his son, "Did you receive an invitation?"

"Not yet," he whispered, his head bent low.

"As noble as the act of philanthropy may be," Marchioness Harcourt screeched, "I hardly see a ball as an occasion for it."

Ciel patted his lips and set his fork across his plate. I reached for it, and the young master turned the other way to face the Harcourts. "Some would see such an event in poor taste. My late aunt was a doctor at that hospital, and it is affiliated with King's college, where Edward is studying for his doctorate." Edward sunk in his chair. "I see every reason to support the Lewisham renovations," Ciel lifted his glass for more wine, "especially since it was her Majesty who gave me word of the hospital's plans, God save the Queen." To which everyone raised their glasses, and Ciel emptied his.

The Harcourts had little to say over dessert.

It seemed the guests rose a little too quickly after the meal was finished, but Francis was willing to end the party as quickly as possible, but not without inviting the ladies into the parlour for coffee. Ciel followed the men to the smoking room, and Royceston had to comment that perhaps Ciel was too young for such an awful habit.

"Youth has never been my disadvantage, sir. I think it has been a benefit more often than not." I lit the bowl of his pipe. He stared at the other men through the strings of smoke, daring them to question him further.

"And I see your reputation for insatiable pride is not unfounded, Lord Phantomhive," Marquis Harcourt retorted.

Marquis Midford, who had remained quiet for much of the evening, spoke to my master's defence. "Now now, the boy has much to be proud of. Funtom has seen a forty percent increase in profits since last year alone. His business is booming."

"You seem to have quite the interest in Phantomhive's business, Alexis," the Earl Royceston said.

"Of course I would have an interest in my nephew's success."

"Well, what of his abysmal attendance at Weston two years ago?" Marquis Harcourt barked. Joann, who appeared as if he would rather be having coffee in the parlour, hid his face, not wishing for this conversation. "The waiting list has dozens of names on it, and I can only assume Phantomhive bypassed that because of some sordid money exchange..." the man puffed on his pipe and continued, "he rigs the cricket match, and not a week later leaves the school. I think he only attended for cheap amusement."

"Father please-"

Ciel gave a piercing laugh and sat his pipe on a nearby tray. "Make all the assumptions you want, noble sir, but that is no reason for me to give an explanation to you."

"Why I never-"

He snapped his fingers, "wine, please," and I offered him his fourth glass that evening, and he was already blushing in the face from the previous three. "One of the disadvantages to my age is that men make assumptions. But the benefit to my age is that when I prove them all wrong, it is that much sweeter." He sipped and continued. "Good sir, I suppose academia is the right place for the readers, and the dreamers," Joann's eyes widened, "but as for me, I am one of action who takes opportunity where I see it. This is why, as my uncle said, I have 'forty percent increase in profits this past year,' and I can show you the article in this morning's paper where my product is sold out in London, if you want more proof." The room was silent and Ciel revelled in the look of revulsion in Harcourt's face. My master looked to Joann. "You never told your father of the corruption in that school, did you?"

Alexis saw the conversation escalating. "Now now, I think it's best we-"

"No, someone needs to put this boy in his place. He has all the arrogance of his father-"

"Excuse you, sir-"

Harcourt was out of his chair. "Do you wish to speak of corruption, Earl Phantomhive? It was your father who set the standard at that school."

"Oh please let's not drudge up old issues-" Alexis had his hands raised, pleading.

"Arrogant, undisciplined, ill-mannered, utter disregard for propriety or tradition-"

"Father, Ciel is none of those things!"

"Keep your mouth shut! Do you see? Do you see the insolence he has taught my son?" The man looked ready to spit on the carpet. Ciel was silent, his eye wide in disbelief to see this man lose his composure to a level that even my master would not breach. "Your family has always been privileged for the position you occupy in the aristocracy. Well, it has only brought you misfortune, Phantomhive. It was your father's undoing, and I will not be surprised in the slightest if you will follow in a similar fashion."

Everyone was breathless. I stared at the man, ready to wring the life from him in a heartbeat. Perhaps the master could sense the anger that broiled in me, how it burned under his eye patch. "Sebastian," he snapped and pointed to the door, as if I were some aggressive hound growling at a stranger who had walked in unannounced.

I do not know what was said, but it must not have been so offensive if the Harcourts did not leave immediately after. I concluded Ciel had given some great show of apology, even if the man had the audacity to insult his father post-mortem. It was one of those displays that my young master could perform without fail, a performance Jacquelyn would have been proud of if she had been in the smoking room to see it.

Ciel sat up slightly in his couch by the fire to sip at his wine. He was in no state to drink anymore, but I was not going to suggest he desist. "Sebastian, I hate dinner parties."

"That is unfortunate."

"Do not be insincere with me."

"Very well. I do not wish to see my young master angry."

"And sometimes it seems the world is eager to anger me."

I had nothing to say in response. I felt powerless, the same as I had for days, having no ability to ease his fury, but instead reminded that I was more than likely a source of it. The boy hated himself, hated his high position, the ceaseless responsibility of maintaining reputation, hours spent accumulating wealth and influence, and how his power dangled on a weak thread made of all these brittle components. The only surety in his life was me, and I thought back to how I had bruised it with my angry outburst that week prior. He needed none of my anger to fuel his own and I caught myself wondering if there would be any opportunity to make amends for it.

He looked at me through his half-empty wine glass, the red sticking to the crystal, colouring his vision. Did he still see me as something desirable? Was that why he chose not to dismiss me from his bedroom? "I don't care what my aunt says. I like you with long hair." He chuckled as I pulled the ribbon from my hair. I shook it out, just drifting above my shoulders.

Ciel was putting on no airs now. He was done performing, putting on a show of gentleman. I could tell he was done with that visage for the evening, and could not care to put it back on again, even if someone knocked at his door and requested his company.

The knock was timid.

"Ciel?" Elizabeth's voice tinkled from behind the door.

My hand was on his shoulder. "Should I let her in?"

"What the hell, I don't care."

I opened the door and Elizabeth stood with her arms around herself. "I'm sorry if this isn't a good time..."

Ciel announced without turning his head. "As good a time as any." He sat up from his couch, but made no effort to give any proper greeting for her entrance into the room.

"I can't stay for long... mother thinks I've gone to my room for the evening."

The young master made room for her on the couch, patting a seat for her. "How unladylike."

"Why did you not join us in the parlour?" If she were more perceptive, she could have formed her own conclusion just by his clouded eyes and warm cheeks.

His head wobbled in her direction. "Did no one tell you what happened in the smoking room this evening?" He placed his arm over the back of the couch, a little too close for the lady's comfort. She looked down and attempted to keep her skirts well enough away from the master's feet, on which he was sitting. "Of course, heaven forbid anyone ruin this happy occasion."

"No need to be sarcastic."

"No need to pretend you're having a good time."

"Ciel, why must you insist on being so... unpleasant?" She was pouting. "It's bad enough to see mother nearly pull out her hair from this evening, between bickering among guests, and my brother, I can't believe him... and you! You barely talked to me during dinner... you didn't so much as look my way!"

"Lizzie, just stop." He was rubbing his temple, trying to abate his brimming irritation.

"Are you not happy with me, for some reason? Look at me!" She pulled his face in her hands. His wine glass slipped from his fingers, the crimson splattering couch and carpet. The glass bounced onto the carpet, its bowl breaking with a dull pop.

It amused me how the sight of something breaking always sent Ciel into a dark rage. His calm would snap and he would grit his teeth.

He pulled Elizabeth by the waist towards him, and she cried out in surprise.

"Ciel!"

"Is this too much for you?" Ciel sank into the couch sideways and had his fiancée pulled on top of him. Elizabeth looked down into the Earl's face in horror, her curls framing his expression of perfect amusement. "What more is it that you want from me, Lizzie? You are getting everything you ever wanted. We will be husband and wife in a few short months, and is that what you really wanted?" His hands cradled her face as tears began to slide down her cheeks. He brushed one away with his thumb. "What more do I need to do?"

The young lady pushed away, trying to right herself despite layers of skirt working against her, as well as Ciel holding her down. His breathing was erratic, a sheen of sweat on his brow, and I got a sinking feeling that something was not quite right.

"Young master." I did not reach the couch in time.

He looked pale, and a hand whipped to his mouth. In a struggle to eject himself from the couch he pushed Elizabeth to the floor. A sprawling hand made contact with the shards of glass and she yelped as Ciel fell past the couch and made sick on the carpet.