friends. There was not, thus far, a decent sort of gentleman among them.
“Might I join you as well?” a familiar voice asked.
Athena smiled up at Mr. Dalforth, though it was for Persephone to answer his request. Permission was granted, and Athena found herself in the happy circumstance of having Mr. Dalforth seated beside her. He was perhaps the only gentleman she had met since her arrival in London whose company did not quickly become unwelcome.
So why, she silently asked herself, did Harry seem suddenly very unwelcoming of Mr. Dalforth?
Chapter 10
“How have you enjoyed this evening’s spectacle?” Sir Hubert asked Athena, a sardonic twist to both his words and his mouth.
“Spectacle?” Athena repeated, confused at his word choice.
“Certainly a spectacle,” he answered with a brief, humorless laugh. “Few, if any, of the performers had any skill to speak of, and even that in remarkably sparse quantities.”
“I thought the performances were reasonably good,” Athena answered, eyeing Sir Hubert warily. His tone was dismissive, bored, even. But his words were remarkably critical. “These are amateurs, after all.”
“If they had been professional performers, Miss Lancaster,” he replied with the same mixture of haughtiness and indifference he’d managed with every word he’d spoken to her thus far, “I would be forced to question the future of music in this nation of ours. Indeed, such displays as we have endured tonight would signal the end of refined tastes, were they representative of the very best England has to offer.”
Athena was entirely taken aback by his sharp criticisms. A musical evening was meant to be a time of indulgent attentiveness; no one came expecting to be amazed. And, as such things went, that evening’s entertainment had been better than most. “I do not believe anyone felt themselves to be displaying that level of talent.”
“I do not believe anyone displayed any talent at all,” Sir Hubert replied, a harsh twinkle in his eye that indicated he was impressed by his own wit.
“Are you a talented musician, then, Sir Hubert?” Athena asked, searching out the reason for the baronet’s disdain.
“One need not possess a given talent in order to recognize its lack in others,” was his reply.
“Did you find nothing about this evening enjoyable?” Athena pressed.
“One of the young ladies displaying this evening—”
Displaying was such an odd choice of word. Performing would have been more common. Playing, even.
“—was passably pretty, I thought, if one was willing to overlook the ridiculous size of her nose.”
Athena simply stared. She had watched the performers all night and had thought each lovely in her own way. Not all would be considered beauties, but she had not thought any to be truly unhandsome.
“You must have a very strange definition of ‘passably pretty,’” Athena said. The food on her plate was all but forgotten, her shock having pasted her attention to Sir Hubert. The thudding of her headache was sliding around, covering more of her scalp and pulsating into her shoulders.
“You think me too lenient, no doubt,” Sir Hubert said, smiling as if they shared some secret agreement. Athena did not at all like the feeling of being in agreement with Sir Hubert on anything. “To me, ‘passably pretty’ simply means she is unlikely to scare small children or send animals into frightened scurries.”
There really was no response to that.
“And you, Miss Lancaster, would be well advised not to stare in quite that manner with your mouth agape as it is. You put one forcibly in mind of an overly ripe fish. If not for that unfortunate resemblance, you could be considered quite one of the more handsome ladies present this evening. At least somewhere in the top dozen or so.”
“I beg your pardon?” Athena heard her strangled whisper, her tone the result of her surprise.
“Too lenient, again, I know. It is a failing in myself I work quite
“Might I join you as well?” a familiar voice asked.
Athena smiled up at Mr. Dalforth, though it was for Persephone to answer his request. Permission was granted, and Athena found herself in the happy circumstance of having Mr. Dalforth seated beside her. He was perhaps the only gentleman she had met since her arrival in London whose company did not quickly become unwelcome.
So why, she silently asked herself, did Harry seem suddenly very unwelcoming of Mr. Dalforth?
Chapter 10
“How have you enjoyed this evening’s spectacle?” Sir Hubert asked Athena, a sardonic twist to both his words and his mouth.
“Spectacle?” Athena repeated, confused at his word choice.
“Certainly a spectacle,” he answered with a brief, humorless laugh. “Few, if any, of the performers had any skill to speak of, and even that in remarkably sparse quantities.”
“I thought the performances were reasonably good,” Athena answered, eyeing Sir Hubert warily. His tone was dismissive, bored, even. But his words were remarkably critical. “These are amateurs, after all.”
“If they had been professional performers, Miss Lancaster,” he replied with the same mixture of haughtiness and indifference he’d managed with every word he’d spoken to her thus far, “I would be forced to question the future of music in this nation of ours. Indeed, such displays as we have endured tonight would signal the end of refined tastes, were they representative of the very best England has to offer.”
Athena was entirely taken aback by his sharp criticisms. A musical evening was meant to be a time of indulgent attentiveness; no one came expecting to be amazed. And, as such things went, that evening’s entertainment had been better than most. “I do not believe anyone felt themselves to be displaying that level of talent.”
“I do not believe anyone displayed any talent at all,” Sir Hubert replied, a harsh twinkle in his eye that indicated he was impressed by his own wit.
“Are you a talented musician, then, Sir Hubert?” Athena asked, searching out the reason for the baronet’s disdain.
“One need not possess a given talent in order to recognize its lack in others,” was his reply.
“Did you find nothing about this evening enjoyable?” Athena pressed.
“One of the young ladies displaying this evening—”
Displaying was such an odd choice of word. Performing would have been more common. Playing, even.
“—was passably pretty, I thought, if one was willing to overlook the ridiculous size of her nose.”
Athena simply stared. She had watched the performers all night and had thought each lovely in her own way. Not all would be considered beauties, but she had not thought any to be truly unhandsome.
“You must have a very strange definition of ‘passably pretty,’” Athena said. The food on her plate was all but forgotten, her shock having pasted her attention to Sir Hubert. The thudding of her headache was sliding around, covering more of her scalp and pulsating into her shoulders.
“You think me too lenient, no doubt,” Sir Hubert said, smiling as if they shared some secret agreement. Athena did not at all like the feeling of being in agreement with Sir Hubert on anything. “To me, ‘passably pretty’ simply means she is unlikely to scare small children or send animals into frightened scurries.”
There really was no response to that.
“And you, Miss Lancaster, would be well advised not to stare in quite that manner with your mouth agape as it is. You put one forcibly in mind of an overly ripe fish. If not for that unfortunate resemblance, you could be considered quite one of the more handsome ladies present this evening. At least somewhere in the top dozen or so.”
“I beg your pardon?” Athena heard her strangled whisper, her tone the result of her surprise.
“Too lenient, again, I know. It is a failing in myself I work quite
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