Chapter 149 Chapter 150

Chapter 149 Chapter 150
And he did not want to gain from the Lumos Gala; he just wanted to give.
It was for the children, after all. The proceeds would go, without deductions, to a multitude of help organisations funding orphanages and aiding kids placed in the foster care system. Something settled inside of him, just knowing he was contributing to one more child growing up surrounded by love rather than tolerance. Placed in the wrong household, the child would grow up with scars, some invisible, others all too visible.
He closed his eyes, the image of a bolted scar running from the forehead up beneath a raven-mane, burnt into his retina. They had never talked much about Ravi growing up, but Denis wasn’t stupid; he could connect the pieces.
Susan was chattering to her husband, seated next to her. Denis leaned over, capturing the man’s eyes. Anton’s brown orbs were warm as he smiled, thanking Denis for being such a good sport in talking to his wife. They had their hands intertwined, both ring fingers carrying simple gold bands, no diamonds in sight. The blonde raised his eyebrow, curling his lips before telling the young heir Winthrop that it had been his pleasure.
In front, the same willowy man who had declared dinner ready stepped up on stage. He was dressed in a fine black suit and had white gloves on his hands. This auctioneer was not only a professional but the best.
Oblong-shaped bidding devices were handed out. They allowed you to place a bid without having to shout at the auctioneer or have someone run with folded notes for the man to read. Denis watched his Maman grip the device, ready to spend an outrageous amount. 
The auction started, the auctioneer standing ready with a small gavel as a few butlers brought out the first item. Denis remained seated as several art pieces were displayed and purchased. He placed his first bid on a painting depicting a cow in a meadow. Nobody wanted to bid on it, the cow ruefully munching grass up on stage as the willowy auctioneer changed the starting bid from twenty-thousand pounds to ten-thousand. The blonde typed down some numbers on his device, offering five-hundred-thousand for the unwanted cow, pressing the black button at the upper edge of the oblong. 
The auctioneer got a notification, his gaze travelling down to look at the screen connected to the wooden lectern. Despite the man’s gravely lined face, the blonde could swear he saw the twitch of a smile. 
The Arnolds won the cow-painting.
His Maman noted it would not hang in the foyer, dining hall, or the west wing. Denis wondered if perhaps it was time to switch out some of the artwork in his own room. He was tiring of the nautical themes adorning his walls. 
As the night trudged along. Susan put in an offer for a private yacht charter in the Caribbean, longing in her eyes as she deliberated with her husband before making a calculated offer. After going back and forth with the Beaumonts, the price of the charter was climbing rapidly; they finally won. Susan threw her arms around Anton, squealing with happiness. She withdrew hastily, red in the face as she sat back down, biting her lower lip. Despite the onslaught of embarrassment, it was obvious to see she was over the moon.
Shreya bought a couple of necklaces, and Denis kept putting down ridiculous offers on trinkets nobody else cared to bid on. Then, the clock suddenly struck ten, and the auction was drawing to a head.
The auctioneer did a curt bow, greeted by polite applause as he took his leave. Two familiar figures walked up to take his place – the founders of the Gala. Denis had talked to both of them on many occasions, one Oliver Wood and the other Ritchie Coote. They were dressed in colourful suits, fashionable if not traditional. Wood in a velvet-red attire and Coote in navy blue. Their faces wore twin-grins as they waltzed to the lectern, thanking everybody for helping to raise one-hundred-twenty million pounds. More clapping ensued as both fellows looked at one another before embracing briefly.
That was that then, Denis thought. To finish the evening, there would be some ballroom dancing, then back to the hotel.
“But wait.” Wood had grabbed the microphone, the slight audio feedback making Denis’s ears hurt. “We have one more surprise piece to auction off.”
Wood and Coote were making a big deal out of the last item. 
They beat their fingers against the ledge of the wooden stand and drew the audience's attention like moths to a flame. His Maman hummed in appreciation. “Quite fun,” she said. Some of the other high-born looked somewhat put off by the finger drumming and “ dun-duuun” soundtrack the lads were harmonising. But this was the Lumos Gala, not only meant for squares with sticks up their arses, but for anyone who could contribute. Susan was vibrating in her seat, laughing out loud, together with her husband as they leaned forward.
Denis couldn’t help but join in the sentiment. 
Finally, Wood spoke into the microphone. “We always save the best thing for last. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” 
Wood turned towards the darkness of the far end of the stage. Denis was not the only one stretching to see. 
“For tonight, and tonight only. You will have the opportunity to take a special someone on a date. Let me introduce him: the national treasure, the myth, the legend, the chosen one, the reason we finally beat the French this season. Ravi Baldwin.”
He froze. Deer in headlights, fingers in the cookie jar, Jack sinking to the ocean bed after saving Rose. Even if he’d wanted, there wasn’t a way for his body to twitch, much less make anything resembling motion. If anyone had looked, they’d see Denis Arnold, face void of a mask.
But nobody was looking at him; everyone was looking at him.
Ravi stepped out on the stage.