(no subject)

[jamjar]

If Dorian was pressed, he would admit that his mother had taste. Not style, not glamour, certainly not jaw dropping sense of aesthetics that his father had possessed, but she did possess taste and a faultless sense of what was appropriate. Which explained why, even though he was bored to tears by the party, he still found himself faintly impressed by the event.

He made an early escape into the main room, hoping that he could circumvent any attempt by his mother to get him to make nice with his soon-to-be-relatives. If they were anything like the Eberbachs he'd met, the best way to handle them would be to avoid them.