A week later, Dorian Gray was sitting in the conservatory at Selby Royal, talking with the beautiful Duchess of Monmouth.
The duchess and her husband were among Dorian’s guests. Her husband was a tired-looking man of about sixty.
It was tea time.
A huge lamp covered with lace stood on the table, filling the room with a warm, soft light. Its glow reflected from the delicate china cups and the polished silver tea service.
The duchess was serving tea. Her pale hands moved gracefully among the cups, and her full red lips were smiling at something Dorian had quietly said to her.
Lord Henry was leaning back in a wicker chair covered with silk, watching them.
Across the room, Lady Narborough sat on a peach-colored sofa, pretending to listen as the Duke described the latest Brazilian beetle he had added to his collection.