Dorian's lips twitched upwards at one side at Robin's answer. He knew what being somewhere between famous and infamous was like. Back home, it was srange to find someone in the upper circles of society that had not heard the name of Dorian Gray; some had heard of his pioneering fashion and lavish parties, others thought they knew that something sinister lay beneath the flawless exterior, but none knew the extent.
Glancing down at Heather as she took his arm, he lay one leather gloved hand over hers to keep her warm. Women were always so proud of their dresses, even in cold weather. They might be in a different century here, but so much was still the same.
Smiling charmingly, he looked back around the gazebo. The setting was small and intimate, nowhere near lavish enough for his taste, but a lovely spot for a wedding. "Are you expecting many people?" he asked, trying to estimate by the amount of chairs there were. They certainly wouldn't have room for a crowd large enough to fill a traditional church, but many things seemed to have changed since the last wedding he'd attended. Still, Dorian had to agree that if there was a God, it was far easier to feel his presence here by the lake than in a stuffy old chapel.