April 18, 1888 - Thames River, London
For This!
Theseus GreengrassFor This!
Boring. Droll. Two words Phoebe could easily describe about the party. She really had no interest in what the Gala was about, that was for certain. None of her money would be going toward it and Gregory had said just as much himself after he'd watched her leave for the evening. He hadn't wanted to go either, not that it was a surprise, so she'd drug her brother along with her. He was always in need of saving from that leech of a wife of his. But now they were there and she was utterly bored.
Worst of all, there were hardly any gentleman even worth of a second look. Most were too old. Others were too ugly. It was wretched really. Speaking of wretched, a woman walked by with one of the worst hats she'd ever seen. A brow raised skyward as the hideous thing went by.
Leaning into her brother, she couldn't help the snort of derision. "How many peafowl do you think she had to butcher to attain that?" she asked, icy blue eyes still watching the hideous thing disappear into the crowd.