Page 85 of From the Ashes
"Notlike Miss Yardly." Seth turned his back on the couple and gazed over my head at the rest of the party. There were twenty, mostly young and eligible, the girls with their chaperones, of course. It would seem Mrs. Overton had matchmaking in mind.
So did Lady Vickers. The two of them put their heads together and nodded at various members of the party as they talked. I suspected they were pairing us up in some sort of game.
"Vickers," declared a gentleman, clapping Seth on the back. "Good to see you again. It's been a while."
Seth shook the man's hand. "A long while. I thought you'd left London."
The man grinned. He had straight, white teeth that dazzled against his tanned skin. His hair was as fair as Seth's and he was just as tall. If it wasn't for the three scars on his cheek, he'd have been very handsome.
"I did." He pointed to his scars. "Been in Africa."
"What creature did that?"
He threw his shoulders back, pushing out his chest. "Lion."
"Bloody hell." Seth drew me over. "Charlie, this is my old school friend, Mr. Martin Seacombe. Seacombe, this is Miss Charlotte Holloway, my mother's companion."
Mr. Seacombe did the oddest thing. He held out his hand for me to shake. Most men bowed or kissed women's hands, but he did not. I shook it with a firm grip.
His face pinked and he quickly removed his hand. "Sorry. I've been away so long I've forgotten how to behave around gentler company."
"Don't be sorry," I said.
"Don't worry," Seth said with a grin. "Charlie's not at all gentle." He nudged me with his elbow. I wanted to kick him.
Lincoln joined our party and Seth introduced him then asked Seacombe about his travels. He regaled us with the story of how the lion he'd been hunting outsmarted him and hunted him instead.
"He won the battle," Seacombe said with a grin that made his scars pucker. "But I won the war."
We three stared at him. "You killed the lion?" Seth asked.
Seacombe puffed out his chest. "I did."
"Oh."
"The skin and head make an impressive rug on my library floor, as long as you watch your step." He laughed. "What's wrong, Vickers? Lion got your tongue?" He snorted.
"I suppose I don't see the appeal of killing animals for no particular reason."
"That's because you've never experienced the thrill of the chase. It makes you feel alive. When it's a matter of kill or be killed, everything becomes so much clearer." He clapped Seth on the shoulder again. "Wouldn't expect you to understand. You've never been to Africa."
"I have," Lincoln said, sounding bored.
Seacombe gave him an appreciative look. "Shoot anything?"
"Yes."
"Lion? Elephant?"
"Englishman."
Seacombe lowered his glass. Some of the contents tipped onto the floor.
"He talked a lot," Lincoln went on. His face was as hard and blank as ever, but I knew he was mocking the fellow. "I found it annoying." He strolled away only to be hailed by Andrew Buchanan.
"Odd company you keep these days, Vickers," Seacombe muttered into his glass, his gaze following Lincoln.
"Not as odd as it used to be," Seth replied.
