About to spill the secret

Tom's POV

The star of the show, Mrs Stone in all her glory was about to cut the cake. I was certain some dignitaries or whatever the hell they called themselves were going to present their gifts to her personally. 

I had heard it all from the button nosed man who sat close to our table. Some aristocrats from England, with the most off putting British accent in the entire universe. 

Of course I didn’t tell him that. I had buttered up the old fool, praising his accent, the bald gash on his head and that ridiculous mustache that made Hitler look like a child next to him. 

Who the hell even wore mustaches like that anymore? Certainly not me. I’d sooner eat dust than have that atrocious debacle on my face. The man had classified himself as a dignitary, mentioned getting a gift worth two thousand dollars for Mrs Stone and fully intends to present it to her himself. 

I