Thread: Secrets and Lies (Sync & Mali)

She spoke truth enough, that much he could determine. With their reputations already maligned by society he was now certain that she was in a similar predicament to himself neither of them had a lot to lose, at least so far as the wagging tongues were concerned. He knew he stood to lose a lot more if he was not at least engaged before the year was out, and he now had a strong suspicion that she was in a similar situation with her own family. Indeed, she was already giving voice to that notion until a voice not too distant caused her to stop and listena voice calling for his new-found companion by name. He found he would that she chose to ignore that voice, but, perhaps wisely, she did not. Instead, she returned her attention to him and, almost apologetically, took her leave. He did not have opportunity to speak further all he could do was bow deeply to her curtsy and then she was gone, through the doors shed emerged from and once more into the vipers nest. He chose not to follow her, not immediately indeed, there was little reason for him to do so. He had already met a number of the eligible women this night, and he had not been so successful conversing with any of them that he had avoided being on his own and entertaining a growing awareness of his predicament. He could go back inside, it was true, but to do what? The men, likely now retired to a drawing room if they were not dancing with a lady, would, if not shun him, then give him cold shoulders all the ladies would speak politely in his presence but immediately turn to gossip and chatter behind their fans when his attention was diverted. There was little for him here. His best chance at retaining his inheritance likely lay in another district, hopefully a place where his name was not yet turned to mudif such a place existed in the nearby areas. Through the windows of the ballroom he could see the young Miss Strathmore talking with a much older woman her mother, he presumed the woman to be. Beside her was a young man, around the same age as Elsa, he fanciedand it seemed that Elsas mother had decided that Elsa and though young man should take a dance together. It seemed however, that Elsa did not entertain the notion with any degree of enthusiasm rather, it appeared that she had little choice but to endure it. Reggie decided that he should stop looking, lest he look like a worrisome fop instead, he moved along the balcony to a second set of doors that led back to the main room, and he slipped through them into the ballroom proper. He was aware that a couple of conversation paused as he appeared, but he did nothing more than give a polite nod before continuing on his way. He knew he had to chance the gathering of older men if they only barely tolerated him for his social appeal, he at least could discuss business with them they knew that much of him. As he approached the drawing room where the chatter of men could be heard, and the smell of cigar smoke drifted through the air, a servant approached him and offered a snifter of brandy almost reluctantly, he took it, although he resolved to be sparing in his drinking of it. He was determined more than ever, it seemed, since hed spoken with Miss Strathmore to hold his head high this night and not slip into the behaviour he was now noted for. The sharp odour of cigars assaulted his nose the second he stepped into the room, and, as earlier, a couple of conversations paused upon his entry. He was not quite unwelcome here, but he could feel looks of disdain falling upon him. Perhaps his father might be the best bet for getting accepted into the roomthere he was. Sir Bartholomew Hawthorne was a tall, solid man in his early fifties now, his hair was silver and slicked back from a high brow that covered piercing grey eyes. A hooked nose ruled over the large white moustache that adorned a pair of thin lips. The fortune of the Hawthorne family was made in livestock primarily, although there were a couple of mining stocks, and several shares in the growing railway industry. On his journeys, Reginald had done well to secure additional shares in railway, and had expanded the family holdings to include some textiles, a move for which Bartholomew had expressed gratitude tempered with annoyance. Clearly unable to avoid the upcoming conversation, Bartholomews features set into an unreadable expression. Reginald, the solid man greeted the younger man. Allow me to introduce Sir Garfield Dillinger of New England. Sir Garfield was a slim man of similar years to Bartholomew, and, apparently, of a similar disposition towards Reginald. Sir Garfield, this is Reginald, myson. A pleasure, sir, Reggie replied, bowing his head respectfully towards Sir Garfield. He hadnt missed the delay in being acknowledged as blood and kinwhich meant no-one else in the room had missed it, either. Likewise, Im sure, agreed Sir Garfield pleasantly as he bobbed in his in reply. Reggie just knew that was a bald-faced lie. Sir Garfield and I were just discussing the future of railroads, and the advent of thesemotorised vehicles that are being developed in Europe, Sir Bartholomew explained. Join us, please. And with that, Reggie was shut out and trapped.