“Oh? And what for, pray tell?”
“For singing Jeremy's praises to your parents,” Harriet replied.
“Ah, think nothing of it, old chap! I would hate to see a man condemned in the court of public opinion on the basis of gossip and rumor. Not when he has so much to offer.”
“Quite,” Jeremy finished.
“Where were the two of you seated, by the by?” Simon suddenly asked, “I noted the Penhaligon box was empty.”
The Earl and Countess of Sutton now looked at Jeremy quizzically, but with the blank expression of innocent curiosity on their faces. Not suspicious, justcurious.
Harriet opened her mouth to speak, but quickly realized that the wrong answer might give away the lie that they had been watching the play at all.
“We took seats in the gods. The box is being renovated, there is a leak in the ceiling, and the carpet was utterly ruined,” Jeremy put in smoothly.
“The…gods?” Alfred asked.
Harriet's heart stopped, fearing that their subterfuge was about to be discovered. But Jeremy immediately disarmed the small crowd with a charming smile.
“If I cannot have the privacy of a box, my next best choice is the anonymity of a seat in the gods, where I may enjoythe performance without the distraction of whispered voices, pointed fingers, and idle gossip.”
“And quite right!” Margaret agreed with a sage nod. “Now, if you will excuse us, I see the Earl of Whitstable, and we must pay our respects. You are still free for dinner on Saturday at Sutton Hall? We might discuss the Opera House then.”
Jeremy bowed his assent, and the Winchesters withdrew. Simon remained.
“What exactly is your game?” Jeremy muttered coldly after the Suttons had left earshot.
“Game? No game, old man,” Simon replied a touch too insolently, “happy to help.”
“You were not always so happy. And your interrogation into our seating plan was not exactly idle conversation, was it?” Jeremy demanded.
Harriet did not understand at first the reason for Jeremy's tension around the lordling. Now, she pondered that seemingly innocent question in a new light.
Did he ask because he knows we were not in the auditorium? Was it intended to be a trap? Why?
The two men were glaring silently at one another, and Harriet was acutely conscious of the increasing crowd in the lobby asmore filed out of the main auditorium. Pivoting with Jeremy's arm, she turned him towards a still-quiet alcove.
“Perhaps we might discuss the matter in privacy?” she smiled sweetly.
Simon followed, beaming at her suggestion, while Jeremy glowered.
“Speak plainly, sir,” he muttered, keeping his voice frosty, “you clearly had a motive. What is it?”
Simon remained silent for a beat until they had well and truly reached the refuge of the alcove. Then, he spun like a string marionette to regard the pair. “Very well. I know for certain you were not in attendance at the play. Really? You foundCatohumorous? Which begs the question, whatwereyou doing? I saw you arrive, with you dressed as a maid, Lady Harriet. What was that about?”
Jeremy tensed, and Harriet suddenly felt that she was holding him back rather than simply holding his arm.
“Why would I be dressed as a maid?” she chuckled awkwardly, as though perplexed by the question.
Before Simon could answer, her gaze snagged on movement beyond him. Her grandmother materialized from amid the crowd with Beecham at her elbow. Beecham’s head snapped in her direction, and he started forward with remorseless intent.
“Gentlemen, would you please excuse me for just a moment?” she murmured distractedly.
Jeremy dashed a kiss against her cheek, then held her hand to his mouth for a long breath. Harriet blushed at the public intimacy, thrilled by it. She headed towards Agnes, attempting to bypass and ignore Beecham along the way. But the butler stepped in front of her.
“Lady Harriet. I must ask that you accompany me back to the Imperial and thence to Oaksgrove.”
Harriet almost scoffed. “I shall do nothing of the sort, Beecham. I am enjoying my time in London, and the Duke is a respectable and honorable chaperon. I am quite safe.”
