table. “I hear those can be very entertaining.”
Lumsley suddenly smiled, showing the gap between his front teeth. “How about the British Museum? It’s full of wondrous curiosities and quite edifying. Or we could all go to the lecture today.”
Damen fingered his lemonade glass. “Planning a trek up Kilimanjaro, are you?”
Lumsley suddenly puffed out his chest. “You don’t believe I could do it?” His unexpected bristling and abrupt show of strength edged toward the comical.
A head taller with twice his wingspan, Damen had, on occasion, seen such tetchiness in other men of his ilk. Cory would have calmed him with a clever retort. Damen rubbed the stiffness in the back of his neck and suppressed the urge to make his usual sardonic remark. “I’m sure you could,” he mumbled. “It just seems like a long trip to wear out a good pair of boots.”
The words hung in the air for several uncomfortable moments before Lumsley finally guffawed.
Sarah didn’t act like she heard the men’s sallies. “I think I should like to see a music hall performance as well,” she said with a slow waft of her fan.
Damen lowered his voice, trying to be as politic as possible. “Apart from being populated by the lower classes and ill-mannered young lords, the rough language and songs might be a rude surprise, my lady.”
“Seen a music hall or two, have you, Ravenhill?” Lumsley snickered.
Sarah disregarded the men again and enunciated slowly, “Miss Collins, if you wish to see a music hall performance, then we shall pick a show.”
Damen leaned back in his chair and smoothed his hand over his vest. “There is a custom in music halls, my lady. When a woman arrives without a male companion, she is presumed to be, shall we say, of a certain occupation. I do not wish to be coarse, but alone you might find yourself propositioned before the curtain goes up.”
Sarah considered him over the top of her ostrich feathers. “Are you volunteering to escort us, Mr Ravenhill?” Her slow movements spoke of tipsiness, but determination shone in her eyes. “Or should I bring extra footmen.”
Damen sighed inwardly. “I’ve heard the Canterbury Hall has reworked their shows in hopes of appealing to a more respectable audience.”
“Surely you’re not suggesting you’ll actually take them to a music hall, Ravenhill?” Lumsley harrumphed.
“If I don’t, it appears they will go anyway.”
“Then I must go as well. A gentleman escorting one attractive woman may not turn a head, but escorting additional would definitely make a commotion. Without me you’ll spend the whole of the night fighting off drunken scoundrels.” He made a fist and pounded the table. “A horrendous prospect. We can all see you’re not much of a fighter.”
Sarah gazed at Damen’s face for a prolonged moment. Her path of examination tingled along his skin. She finally delved into his eyes and said with silken sincerity, “I abhor violence of any sort, don’t you, Mr Ravenhill?”
Damen’s heart flipped in his chest, sending blood hammering through his veins. He tried to disguise his ragged exhale with a shrug.
“Sometimes it’s necessary to stand your ground.” Lumsley held up one hand. The ring and small finger were badly broken and had healed crooked and lumpy. “Earned these in boxing matches at Oxford. My trophies,” he said proudly.
Damen looked at his mangled fingers and stared at his face. The muttonchops and several extra stone had thrown him. A hazy reflection of the younger man he’d been came into his mind’s eye. Anger, guilt and unease churned in his gullet. Now he remembered why Lumsley looked familiar. Those haunting, bent digits were, in truth, Damen’s trademark.
***
“Goodbye, Sarah.” Amelia gave her a hug. “I’ll make a copy of the guest list as soon as I get home.” She took the footman’s hand and stepped into their carriage.
Calista winked and climbed in after her. “And I’ll look for appropriately
Lumsley suddenly smiled, showing the gap between his front teeth. “How about the British Museum? It’s full of wondrous curiosities and quite edifying. Or we could all go to the lecture today.”
Damen fingered his lemonade glass. “Planning a trek up Kilimanjaro, are you?”
Lumsley suddenly puffed out his chest. “You don’t believe I could do it?” His unexpected bristling and abrupt show of strength edged toward the comical.
A head taller with twice his wingspan, Damen had, on occasion, seen such tetchiness in other men of his ilk. Cory would have calmed him with a clever retort. Damen rubbed the stiffness in the back of his neck and suppressed the urge to make his usual sardonic remark. “I’m sure you could,” he mumbled. “It just seems like a long trip to wear out a good pair of boots.”
The words hung in the air for several uncomfortable moments before Lumsley finally guffawed.
Sarah didn’t act like she heard the men’s sallies. “I think I should like to see a music hall performance as well,” she said with a slow waft of her fan.
Damen lowered his voice, trying to be as politic as possible. “Apart from being populated by the lower classes and ill-mannered young lords, the rough language and songs might be a rude surprise, my lady.”
“Seen a music hall or two, have you, Ravenhill?” Lumsley snickered.
Sarah disregarded the men again and enunciated slowly, “Miss Collins, if you wish to see a music hall performance, then we shall pick a show.”
Damen leaned back in his chair and smoothed his hand over his vest. “There is a custom in music halls, my lady. When a woman arrives without a male companion, she is presumed to be, shall we say, of a certain occupation. I do not wish to be coarse, but alone you might find yourself propositioned before the curtain goes up.”
Sarah considered him over the top of her ostrich feathers. “Are you volunteering to escort us, Mr Ravenhill?” Her slow movements spoke of tipsiness, but determination shone in her eyes. “Or should I bring extra footmen.”
Damen sighed inwardly. “I’ve heard the Canterbury Hall has reworked their shows in hopes of appealing to a more respectable audience.”
“Surely you’re not suggesting you’ll actually take them to a music hall, Ravenhill?” Lumsley harrumphed.
“If I don’t, it appears they will go anyway.”
“Then I must go as well. A gentleman escorting one attractive woman may not turn a head, but escorting additional would definitely make a commotion. Without me you’ll spend the whole of the night fighting off drunken scoundrels.” He made a fist and pounded the table. “A horrendous prospect. We can all see you’re not much of a fighter.”
Sarah gazed at Damen’s face for a prolonged moment. Her path of examination tingled along his skin. She finally delved into his eyes and said with silken sincerity, “I abhor violence of any sort, don’t you, Mr Ravenhill?”
Damen’s heart flipped in his chest, sending blood hammering through his veins. He tried to disguise his ragged exhale with a shrug.
“Sometimes it’s necessary to stand your ground.” Lumsley held up one hand. The ring and small finger were badly broken and had healed crooked and lumpy. “Earned these in boxing matches at Oxford. My trophies,” he said proudly.
Damen looked at his mangled fingers and stared at his face. The muttonchops and several extra stone had thrown him. A hazy reflection of the younger man he’d been came into his mind’s eye. Anger, guilt and unease churned in his gullet. Now he remembered why Lumsley looked familiar. Those haunting, bent digits were, in truth, Damen’s trademark.
***
“Goodbye, Sarah.” Amelia gave her a hug. “I’ll make a copy of the guest list as soon as I get home.” She took the footman’s hand and stepped into their carriage.
Calista winked and climbed in after her. “And I’ll look for appropriately
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