Read Online The Gilded Scarab by Anna Butler - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anna Butler
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doling out orders. Used to servants and instant obedience, perhaps. They recognized it too, and jumped to obey. Of course, folded pound notes may have had some influence there.
I waited until the waiter was out of earshot. “Lottie Collins? I’d gained the impression you were too refined to have a passion for the music hall. Do you sing ‘Ta Ra Ra Boom De Ay’ in your bath?”
“It’s a classic!” Fairfax… Edward sipped his wine, his mouth doing that amused thing again. I was beginning to think it a very good and attractive habit for him. “A friend of mine took me to see her a few years ago at the Tivoli. Sam said I needed to have my horizons widened.”
“It must have been before you became a member here, because Margrethe’s is the widest horizon I know.”
“Well before.” Edward added, apologetically, “I had a restricted upbringing, you understand. Going to a music hall incognito was high adventure. Exciting.”
“Ah. So what did that make Margrethe’s?”
“Forbidden fruit. And very, very exciting.”
It was as well the pineapple arrived and took up my attention for a moment, although I must confess I was rather too focused on the laden spoon disappearing between Edward’s lips and the way Edward’s tongue flickered out after each delicious mouthful. That too was very, very exciting.
I was, of course, politely brought up. I may not have been so carefully raised that a music hall was the most exciting thing I ever did—my father, surprisingly, had a liking for the halls and took Peter and me there most school holidays as a treat—but still I was brought up a gentleman’s son with all that implies of regular churchgoing and a thorough understanding of the catechism. As I may have mentioned, I was not an ardent soul, but watching Edward eat his pineapple brought me closer to religious ecstasy than anything I’d experienced in years. Nanny had taught me to pray before bedtime. Time to remember her teachings.
Heavenly Father, thank you for Margrethe’s and men like Edward Fairfax….
It was very odd how tight my evening trousers appeared to have grown. Phryne must have done something to them while she refurbished them. Perhaps they’d shrunk. I said, to take my mind off things, “I saw Lottie myself the last time I was in Londinium. At the Tivoli too, as it happens. I probably shouldn’t have been there, since it was a bare week after my father’s funeral, but I always claim I needed the diversion and mourning doesn’t become me. Besides, the old man would have understood. I can’t say I was impressed by the singing, but to see her dance was a revelation.” I made sinuous movements with my left hand.
“Philistine! I take it there is little chance of getting you to the opera?”
Well, if Edward Fairfax wanted a companion to sit and hold his hand in the dark while some stout woman of indeterminate age shrieked her way into the top notes, then it might be I was his man. But that had damn little to do with wanting to experience high culture, and a great deal more to do with the hope of a reward for virtue afterward. Still, I had better not appear too easy a conquest.
I pushed aside my plate. “I could help widen your horizons at the music hall, if you like. If it isn’t pretty boys and girls dancing, there’ll be an aerial trapeze or a unicyclist, or a prestidigitateur with his magic tricks, and yes, even singing… there’s something for everyone at the music hall.”
The waiter arrived with brandy and offered cigars before Fairfax could respond. I preferred my cigarillos. They were thinner and lighter than the fat Cuban cigars the waiter brought. Edward agreed to try them, and I let my fingers touch his when I proffered the case. Edward’s thumb stroked the back of my hand, a feather touch, when he accepted.
Ah. Perfect.
A smile. A nod. A jerk of the head toward the reception room and a raised eyebrow. Another nod.
“Although I should warn you,” Edward said, when we had
I waited until the waiter was out of earshot. “Lottie Collins? I’d gained the impression you were too refined to have a passion for the music hall. Do you sing ‘Ta Ra Ra Boom De Ay’ in your bath?”
“It’s a classic!” Fairfax… Edward sipped his wine, his mouth doing that amused thing again. I was beginning to think it a very good and attractive habit for him. “A friend of mine took me to see her a few years ago at the Tivoli. Sam said I needed to have my horizons widened.”
“It must have been before you became a member here, because Margrethe’s is the widest horizon I know.”
“Well before.” Edward added, apologetically, “I had a restricted upbringing, you understand. Going to a music hall incognito was high adventure. Exciting.”
“Ah. So what did that make Margrethe’s?”
“Forbidden fruit. And very, very exciting.”
It was as well the pineapple arrived and took up my attention for a moment, although I must confess I was rather too focused on the laden spoon disappearing between Edward’s lips and the way Edward’s tongue flickered out after each delicious mouthful. That too was very, very exciting.
I was, of course, politely brought up. I may not have been so carefully raised that a music hall was the most exciting thing I ever did—my father, surprisingly, had a liking for the halls and took Peter and me there most school holidays as a treat—but still I was brought up a gentleman’s son with all that implies of regular churchgoing and a thorough understanding of the catechism. As I may have mentioned, I was not an ardent soul, but watching Edward eat his pineapple brought me closer to religious ecstasy than anything I’d experienced in years. Nanny had taught me to pray before bedtime. Time to remember her teachings.
Heavenly Father, thank you for Margrethe’s and men like Edward Fairfax….
It was very odd how tight my evening trousers appeared to have grown. Phryne must have done something to them while she refurbished them. Perhaps they’d shrunk. I said, to take my mind off things, “I saw Lottie myself the last time I was in Londinium. At the Tivoli too, as it happens. I probably shouldn’t have been there, since it was a bare week after my father’s funeral, but I always claim I needed the diversion and mourning doesn’t become me. Besides, the old man would have understood. I can’t say I was impressed by the singing, but to see her dance was a revelation.” I made sinuous movements with my left hand.
“Philistine! I take it there is little chance of getting you to the opera?”
Well, if Edward Fairfax wanted a companion to sit and hold his hand in the dark while some stout woman of indeterminate age shrieked her way into the top notes, then it might be I was his man. But that had damn little to do with wanting to experience high culture, and a great deal more to do with the hope of a reward for virtue afterward. Still, I had better not appear too easy a conquest.
I pushed aside my plate. “I could help widen your horizons at the music hall, if you like. If it isn’t pretty boys and girls dancing, there’ll be an aerial trapeze or a unicyclist, or a prestidigitateur with his magic tricks, and yes, even singing… there’s something for everyone at the music hall.”
The waiter arrived with brandy and offered cigars before Fairfax could respond. I preferred my cigarillos. They were thinner and lighter than the fat Cuban cigars the waiter brought. Edward agreed to try them, and I let my fingers touch his when I proffered the case. Edward’s thumb stroked the back of my hand, a feather touch, when he accepted.
Ah. Perfect.
A smile. A nod. A jerk of the head toward the reception room and a raised eyebrow. Another nod.
“Although I should warn you,” Edward said, when we had
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