Richard looked towards the line of guests still filing in and decided he needed a drink. Preferably, the drink would be strong enough to drown the absurdity of the evening. If it drowned him along with it, he would consider that efficient. He stepped away from the entrance, found a servant with a tray and took a cup.
Then another. Enough to warm the bitterness. All the while, he watched the room. Richard's gaze kept returning to the inner entrance.
How long would his father take to bring Livia out? Nearly thirty minutes later, once most of the guests had arrived, Geoffrey moved to the centre of the hall.
The music softened, then stopped. Richard remained near a pillar, cup in hand.
