Thread: A Gentlemans Game Of Curiosity (Panakananana and boyo111)

The surprise that covered the face of the ring of gentlemen was quickly displaced with grumbling as the room slowly cleared. Few commendations to her skill and ability to bring the competition to a draw, while deserved, were sadly not given. Glances from the members as they looked upon the young lady, then left as if her presence in the room intruded on some perceived sanctity, that was hardly given to the members only club. A smile crossed his lips as Byron handed her the money a shocked look on Byron's face that turned towards him as if in supplication, Philip stepped back and bowed with a flourish. My good lady, I am pleased to make your acquaintance, sweeping his arms aside, mask and sword flaring our in his hands, then stood tall again. His black swept hair still held his queue even after the exertions, Philip George Ridgefield, the Lord of Doyle at your service. At a nod from him the red coated servants stepped up and took the masks and sabers away. His own piercing blue eyes took in her measure, now seeing the female form in the ill-fitting clothes. If you would be so kind as to join me in the dining room, my lady, I believe I owe you a sherry. Stepping off the carpet turned, Lord Byron, please make sure she finds her way to my usual place. Walking into the changing room, a cloth in hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, he removed the bulky uniform. Always confining he noted to himself, but one must adhere to the rules. A quick wipe down with a soaked towel handed by another servant, then he changed into his usual dark pants and waistcoat. The light silk shirt cool against his skin, one of the few luxuries he afforded himself, and feeling better under the tight coat and vest, hanging the pocketwatch in its place and checking the time. Over his silk he wore the bright white, high collared shirt slightly open at the top, as a note against convention, the tie done expertly by the servant. Philip's thoughts drifted as he wondered at her skill, multiple schools and styles drifted through his mind until he considered one he thought was hers. While women were not unknown as visitors in the club it was highly unusual for one to have entered the competitions, he was extremely curious as to how she had managed that. His mind perked up at the opportunity to find out more. Making his way into the dining room, dressed immaculately though a bit plainly for many of the more colorful members, being one of the founding families he was afforded a certain leeway. Not that it mattered to Philip what the other members thought of him, he breezed through the Club as he willed, avoiding those but the few who afforded him an intellectual challenge. Two chairs and a table stood aside the bar, they were empty for him, the other chair usually unused as he had little use for conversation with many of the members. Taking a seat had two sherry's placed on the small oaken table between the chairs. The dining room was loud with its vaulted ceiling, walls covered with photos and portraits of past and present members, the long dark wooded bar manned by two men in white coats who offered libations and cigars to the assembled men who stood before it. The place stank of men and liquor in a haze of tobacco, as he waited then watched her cross the room thought at least for once there was something to take his attention in the room.