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“Instead of showcasing your own.”
Now, Lark understood why there was no more spark. Summer hadn’t ever had any talent of her own. She wouldn’t have gotten anywhere had it not been for Omar. She wasn’t going anywhere else without using someone else’s talent. That was all Lark needed to know.
"Omar is my partner," said Lark. "I'm not looking to go anywhere without him."
"Then, you’ll fail."
"I doubt it. We make a strong team. And if we did fail, I know he’d catch me."
Lark didn’t care to hear more. She didn't care what this woman thought. She didn't care what anyone thought. She knew who she was and what she wanted. And she was going back out in the crowd of onlookers to get him.
Chapter Seventeen
The word gentlemen's club had a different connotation in this day than in the Victorian age. Now, those words evoked an establishment tucked away in a less than savory part of a city, filled with sketchy men, cloaked in shadows and raining down single currency bills on the gyrating and sparsely clad women on display.
The Garrison club was not such an establishment.
The centuries-old club had passed down the air of exclusivity. Unless you bled blue, you wouldn’t get past the threshold. Prejudice still shaded the fixtures as no women were allowed inside the hall … for now. But the sketchy and shady bunch somehow made it past the velvet ropes.
"Have you been here all night?" Lord Panek pulled at the tie that had been tight around his neck. He tossed the strip of fabric along with his coat onto the floor, certain one of the staff would come and pick it up.
"Can't go home," said Lord Romero. "The wife is angry."
Lord Romero sat in a plush robe and slippers. His thinning hair was wet. He clutched a thick cigar between his index and middle finger.
"Go to your mistress then,” offered Panek as he slumped down next to the other man.
“Can’t.” Romero shook his head. Puffing on the cigar, he blew out tiny smoke circles. “She's angry I went and saw my wife."
The Garrison offered lodgings for members who paid extra on their membership. Many men did. The club was better than a full-service hotel in that it offered all the amenities for a long stay, the additional exclusivity, and the utmost discretion for the noblemen who played in these halls. Although free earbuds would be a nice addition to the excellent service. Or separate rooms for the lower dregs of the upper-class society.
Omar turned his body away from the other two men. There were less than ten members in the gathering room that morning. Omar didn’t frequent the club as much as he had done in his youth. He’d long since grown weary of the company kept there. The only reason he’d stopped in that morning was to pass time before he could see Lark. That, and to catch up with Daniel who preferred the old world tradition of the gentleman’s club.
Being on the outskirts of town, the club was closer to Mondego House where Omar was due in a few hours. He hadn’t wanted to arrive early and look too eager, although that is exactly what he was. He was eager to see her, to hold her, to kiss her, to simply be with her.
“I should’ve been like the marquise here," Romero was saying. “I should’ve stayed a bachelor and vowed never to marry."
Omar lifted his head from the morning paper. “I made no such vow.”
"No?” Romero turned to him, uncrossing his legs.
Omar cursed under his breath and looked away before he got too much of a show with the loose robe.
“Maybe you didn’t say it out loud,” Panek chimed in. “But it's clear by the lifestyle you chose for yourself."
Omar opened his mouth to argue. Then he closed his lips. Had he chosen a bachelor lifestyle? No. Not consciously anyway.
He had nothing against marriage. If it were to the right woman. He just hadn’t met her in all his years. For years, his life had been inundated with performers, actresses, and women who were models and not their real selves.
None of them had been brimming with talent that made him see stars. None of them had brought something to the table to share with his good store and not simply take. None of them had invaded his every waking thought.
Until now.
Omar was not surprised when Lark’s face appeared in his mind. He was nowhere near ready to ask the woman to marry him. But the thought of his future featured her prominently.
He harbored a clear vision of Lark standing by his side. Lark standing in front of him in the spotlight. Lark standing behind him during a storm they would weather together.
"Yes," Lord Romero picked up the thread. "We should’ve taken pointers from him. We should have made it clear that marriage was off the table and then sleep with whomever we chose."
