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I remained silent.
“It’s true that I tend to choose my partners from among the wallflowers, but there’s no reason for that except self-preservation. I’m not like my cousin, Miss Fox.” He nodded at Mr. Broadman, surrounded by his chums and a cluster of girls hanging on his every word. “Most ladies don’t throw their dance cards at me as I pass. I’m not handsome, athletic, rich or interesting. I don’t like to see a girl wrinkle her nose when I ask her to dance, so yes, I choose my partners from those who welcome my attention. It so happens that I found a lady with many fine qualities that way. A lady whose company I enjoy above all others, and one who likes me in return. To be honest, I cannot believe my good fortune. You’re Clare’s friend. I don’t think I need to list all the wonderful things about her. You already know them.”
It was a fine speech, and I found myself feeling somewhat better about him courting Miss Hessing.
"Her fortune makes her vulnerable," I said.
"No, Miss Fox. Her low self-esteem does. Her wealth makes her desirable, if that’s what a man is looking for in a wife."
“Many are.”
“True enough. But not me. I don’t think there’s anything more I can say to convince you otherwise.”
“You don’t have to convince me, Mr. Liddicoat. It’s Mrs. Hessing who needs the reassurance.”
“I’m not so sure about that. Mrs. Hessing may control the purse strings, but it’s not Clare’s purse I want. If her mother cuts her off, then so be it. We’ll manage. It’syouI need to reassure that my intentions are honorable. It’s you who have influence over Clare. If you tell her I’m not worthy, then she’ll listen.”
It was a rather stunning thing to hear, and unnerving, too. A weight of responsibility descended upon me. So much so that we finished the dance in silence, and once the music ended, I avoided dancing for a long time by claiming my feet were sore.
Refreshments couldn’t come soon enough. Flossy and I made a beeline for the tea table and were soon joined by two gentlemen we’d danced with earlier. We fell into a conversation about the best cricketers of the last decade. Or, rather, they discussed their favorites while Flossy pretended to listen and I nodded from time to time.
My gaze wandered, however, seeking out my suspects. I was just in time to see Mr. Hardwick take a swig from a silver flask when he thought no one was looking. It wasn’t the first time he’d sipped from it. Earlier in the evening, he’d been more discreet, leaving the room to partake. But as the night wore on, he’d become more and more careless.
I thought him unaffected by the flask’s contents until a player from the Elms Polo Club team bumped into him. The bump was light, but Mr. Hardwick stumbled into the woman next to him, causing her food to slide off her plate.
Mr. Hardwick recovered his balance, but instead of seeing if the lady was all right, he rounded on the fellow who’d bumped him. “Watch where you’re going!”
The man apologized to the lady and offered to refill her plate. She graciously accepted and handed it to him as the staff cleared away the mess.
Mr. Hardwick wasn’t satisfied with that. “No wonder the Elms lost.” He snorted. “You have as much coordination as a giraffe on skates. And your horse is as slow as an elephant.”
The other man pulled himself up to his full height and puffed out his chest. “You can slander me, sir, but my mount is off-limits. He’s a king among horses.”
“Oh ho!” Mr. Hardwick rocked back on his heels. “So you can slandermyhorse, and that of my teammates, but I cannot point out an obvious truth about yours?”
Mr. Broadman and his Elms Club teammates gathered around their besieged friend. “No one is slandering your horse, Hardwick. If only your playing was as imaginative as your mind.”
The Elms Club team chuckled at their captain’s joke.
Mr. Hardwick stabbed a finger in Mr. Broadman’s direction. “You, sir, are a slanderer and a liar, and quite possibly more.”
Mr. Broadman’s fists closed at his sides. “I beg your pardon?” he growled.
Mr. Hardwick continued, undaunted by the reddening face of the man towering above him. He must be even drunker than I thought to be so unconcerned. Mr. Broadman was positively rigid with anger. “You think nothing of damaging my reputation and that of my family, so it’s time you received a dose of your own medicine.”
Oh no. This was all our fault, mine and Harry’s. Mr. Hardwick thought Mr. Broadman told us about Panther being doped with cocaine, and we’d not denied it.
Mr. Broadman, however, wasn’t helping the situation. He stood toe to toe with Mr. Hardwick, glowering down at the smaller man. “I’m not the one taking medicine, Hardwick. Nor am I injecting it into anyone…oranything.”
Mr. Hardwick may have been drunk, but not drunk enough to slow him down. He punched Mr. Broadman in the stomach before the latter could react and dodge out of the way.
Mr. Broadman doubled over from the blow, giving Mr. Hardwick a more advantageous angle with which to punch him in the jaw. It was a nice move from a shorter man to bring a bigger man down. It sent Mr. Broadman reeling back.
A shocked Mr. Liddicoat and a friend caught him, while two others retaliated. One caught Mr. Hardwick’s right arm and the second returned the punch to the stomach.
Several ladies screamed. One fainted, and because all eyes were on the fight and not her, nobody caught her. She crumpled to the floor in a puff of skirts.
Flossy and I stood on our toes to get a better look, but were ushered out of the way by Floyd and Uncle Ronald, who’d swooped in from goodness knows where.
