May 15th, 1891 — Zabini Residence, London
They had survived the reception (ha!) without incident. Whether that was a testament to Mathilda's hosting skills or the general unwillingness of well-bred men and women to publicly scrounge for scraps of gossip was anyone's guess. Domitian did not imagine it had much, if anything, to do with the newlyweds themselves. While Mr. Prewett and Camilla had made a passable show of liking each other, at least for now, the reason they'd married so suddenly was hardly a secret. The best that could be hoped for under the circumstances was that Camilla would take a good long while to get pregnant, if she did at all. At least then, people might speculate that Mr. Prewett's conscious had gotten the better of him after he'd deflowered her and he'd decided to do the honorable thing of his own volition, rather than being forced to the altar at wandpoint because of a suspected pregnancy. If everyone was going to know his sister had offered herself up to a man before marriage, the best that they could hope for was that they'd suppose she'd only done it once, not that this was some torrid recurring affair that had only progressed to something more because she had backed herself into a corner. Time would tell, Domitian supposed.
The other thing time would tell about: Calliope's pregnancy. She probably ought to have given birth already, so it wouldn't be much longer now. So far, she had shown no indication that she intended to do them all the favor of dying during the process.
"I fear I've been somewhat remiss in my brotherly duties," Domitian announced to his sister with only the barest of preambles. If he had any particular feelings about this statement, they were not evident in his tone; he declared it as impassively as he might have remarked upon the weather. The servant who had been pouring tea finished and handed him his cup, and he waved a hand to dismiss her, leaving the two Zabinis alone in the sitting room.
The other thing time would tell about: Calliope's pregnancy. She probably ought to have given birth already, so it wouldn't be much longer now. So far, she had shown no indication that she intended to do them all the favor of dying during the process.
"I fear I've been somewhat remiss in my brotherly duties," Domitian announced to his sister with only the barest of preambles. If he had any particular feelings about this statement, they were not evident in his tone; he declared it as impassively as he might have remarked upon the weather. The servant who had been pouring tea finished and handed him his cup, and he waved a hand to dismiss her, leaving the two Zabinis alone in the sitting room.
