Felicia Knight.
This individual who clearly had no self-respect to lose was Felicia Knight.
She was doing an excellent job of behaving like an alien in a human suit.
And maybe she was indeed an alien in a human suit. Micah did not know her that well—it's never a wise decision to pay too much attention to your fiancée's female companions—but he had never known her to act like a normal woman (whatever the hell that meant).
That's because although she had red hair instead of the expected blond, she's something of a perfect bimbo—easily flattered by masculine attention and too stupid to know what jealousy was.
Also, she had perfectly perky tits that made him think of apples. Coaxing her to spare him a peek was as easy as taking candy from a baby. His success came almost as a surprise, but he had always known how charming he was to almost all women.
Adeline being the key exception. But now Micah wanted to relish in his victories instead of wallowing in his defeats.
Learning that Felicia's carpet matched the drapes had pleased him significantly more than learning how Adeline's wedding dress looked like.
It's a little piece of privileged information that only he, and the other men who had bedded her, was privy to. He felt a sense of camaraderie with these unknown men. After all, they thought about the world and perceived the world like him.
And surely they, like him now, pulled out the memory from time to time to admire, because sometimes thinking over a pleasure provided a more exquisite satisfaction than its completion.
Being shoved into an old wardrobe while locked in a long, wet kiss was exciting enough. So was the sin of sitting butt-naked on the treasured garments of duchesses long dead as his partner groped for trout in a peculiar river.
A lesser man would've done his best to ignore the bridal dress on the mannequin, standing just there as if in silent reproach. But Micah delighted in its presence, taking in its details—from the sweetheart neckline to the wide circle skirt, from the tiers of crystal and pearls to the auspicious embroidery—as he held Felicia's head between his legs.
Because ultimately it was the thrill from the possibility of being caught—perhaps by a maid or a dressmaker's assistant—that he really savored and would continue to savor for a long, long time.
Or rather, he had every intention of doing so until Felicia showed up with that cartoony mustache and oversized jacket. Now this ridiculous ensemble threatened to spoil any reminiscing he was hoping to enjoy.
Micah turned to look at Avery, hoping his expression alone was enough to convey what he thought so he did not have to ask, "Do you see this?" But he could not catch Avery's eye. Jerking his head a bit too blatantly towards Felicia did not help either.
Because Avery was already looking in the general direction of the entrance, absorbed in what seemed like disappointment and a hint of bitterness.
Something clicked in Micah's mind.
Avery's prior inconsideration suddenly had an explanation other than the fact he's a spoiled brat unused to and unaware of the needs of peasants.
Rather, he had observed Felicia following them, likely soon after their departure from the castle. He tried to shake her loose by walking fast and making unnecessary turns in Lunsford. The speed also conveniently left Micah too preoccupied with keeping the padding from rolling out to look back.
Avery's face betrayed his thoughts—he was so sure he had succeeded in shaking her off.
But now that the glee of victory had been snatched away, he looked like a child grappling with the reality of losing.
Micah felt obliged to offer a word of comfort. "Look away," he commanded in a low voice, "your disappointment is too obvious. Look away before Felicia realizes you have a functioning pair of eyes and can see through her costume. Don't worry, it's not over yet. She's not that bright."
The possibility of averting a complete loss was enough to cheer Avery up.
Only for him to sulk again when Bezalel finished examining the ring and explained, "Mr Avery, it will take us two weeks to resize this to fit your fourth finger."
"So long? Can't it be done any faster? Isn't it a relatively straightforward process?"
The old jeweler looked appropriately apologetic in response to Avery's barrage of questions. Whether he felt appropriately apologetic was another matter altogether. "Unfortunately, no. Making a ring bigger is more challenging than shrinking it, especially since the accent stones cover a fair bit of the band, leaving the sizing area quite small."
Micah was privately kicking himself for not remembering this tidbit. He could've avoided this whole detour by telling Avery that resizing a ring wasn't like pasting a screen protector. He did not know why he, of all people, expected a scion to have common sense.
While Micah was deep in thought, Bezalel placed a curated selection of diamond rings before Avery. "Mr Avery, we apologize for the inconvenience of the two-week wait. Our shop offers a complementary lending service for clients like you. Please pick something you like. You just have to return it when collecting your resized ring from us."
With a squeal of delight, Avery started trying on the different rings. Behind them, Felicia quietly requested a shop assistant to show her some sapphire earrings.
Bezalel put a few more pieces before Micah and looked expectantly at him.
Micah looked back in confusion.
"My boy, nothing catches your fancy?"
Micah shook his head. Expensive jewelry was not enough to catch Adeline's eyes. No, she preferred jewelry that had been owned by famous people, especially dead famous people.
"Ah, you have different tastes from your father then. Or maybe it's more correct to say your special someone likes different things from your mother. You know, you can tell a lot about someone from what kind of jewelry they prefer."
The unwelcomed and unexpected mention of his mother prompted Micah to examine the jewelry before him. Every piece that Bezalel had picked out was studded with familiar light blue gemstones.
Aquamarines.
His mother's birthstone.
The connection unleashed a long-buried resentment. Micah's father was lucky enough to find a woman who preferred something so much more affordable than precious stones, but that didn't stop him from abandoning her and their son.
Avery's simple joy of looking at diamonds was suddenly galling to Micah. As was Felicia's quiet admiration of sapphires.
For a moment, Micah hated their easy and careless materialism, hated his gnawing jealousy of them, hated his mother's naïve contentment, hated his rejection of her.
The rings and brooches and necklaces before him blurred into a mess of silver and blue sparkles.
If only he could get away from here. From them. From her.
He pointed randomly. "I'll take that."