Not the most subtle reminder, Alice.Cora nods back:Message received.Get the necklace. Swap it with another. Don’t get caught. Simple, yes? It’s only a matter of where and when.
She turns to Harry, ready to suggest a visit to the Vandemeers’ box, citing a burning desire to visit with her dear friendMimi—given how Harry’s been sequestered from society, Cora can’t imagine he realizes that no one considers the gossiping Mimi an actual friend—but the view across the theater scuppers that plan before she can even attempt it.
Apart from Mrs. Vandemeer, who has settled in next to Alice with two fresh coupes of champagne, the box across the way has emptied out. For whatever reason, Mimi is on the move.
“Shall we stretch our legs?” Cora suggests.
“Let’s join the Ameses in the saloon.” Harry offers his arm. He turns back to the still-seated Arabella. “Will you come too, Arabella?”
The girl shakes her head with a tentative smile. “I’m all right here.”
Most certainly for the best. Last thing Cora needs right now is Harry’s own “Michaëla” tagging along all night. She ignores the fresh stab of compunction at the toll this is taking on Arabella... which, she realizes, is truly nothing compared to the fate due to befall her entire family, and her old friend Harry, in a matter of weeks.
Harry smiles blithely as they pass among the crowds in the gilded outer halls. “Would you care for champagne? Believe I could use a glass myself.”
“That would be lovely,” Cora agrees, throat still tight.
Inside the central saloon, there is a sprawling ornate bar, with several barkeeps behind it pouring drinks for the well-heeled men approaching, while waiters in long tails circulate the room with trays bearing champagne glasses. The room is a swirl of color and flash, even finer gowns and jewels on display than at the Patriarch’s Ball. But the one jewel Cora’s looking for, she cannot seem to locate.
Wherever Mimi Vandemeer has wandered off to, it isn’t this saloon.
First of three intermissions, Cora reminds herself.There is still time.
But not much, goodness knows. Given that their timeline for the embassy coup has now advanced, getting those emeralds back is crucial; the gemsmustbe in Alice’s possession when she meets with the Ogdens for their own valuation tomorrow. Mimi Vandemeer needs to walk out onto Broadway tonight with green glass around her neck or—
“Are you enjoying the show?” Harry asks, dutifully taking her hand as they make their way through the milling crowd. “I wonder, does your homeland have an opera house?”
“We do indeed, Mr. Peyton. The grand Württemberg Opera House, in Stuttgart. I am sure you will love it as much as I do.”
“I do hope Arabella will love it too—ah, rather, will feel at home. There. In your country.” Harry swallows, his grip tightening around Cora’s hand. “She seems so out of sorts tonight, does she not?”
“I think she’s preoccupied with the play.”Enough of this.Cora loops her arm through his, pulling him closer. “You are a very good friend, Mr. Peyton, worrying about her well-being,” she purrs. “A very upstanding man.”
This finally draws a real smile out of him, his face igniting with relief.
By all appearances, they do make for a handsome couple tonight—Harry in his new navy ditto suit, his dark hair slicked and parted. Cora’s truly exquisite gown, her favorite yet, the pale pink chiffon embroidered with stunning silver rosettes. Does Harry suspect it’s all a performance, a trick, even on some subconscious level?
Cora steals another look at him, but he’s now preoccupied, flagging a waiter, who approaches promptly to offer them both champagne.
As she’s halfway through her glass, however, the bell announcing the end of the first intermission sounds. The flow of traffic shifts back to the hallway, pulling her and Harry along in its wake, all the way back to the Ameses’ box for the opera’s second act.
And that’s the first chance gone.
Nerves singing now, Cora dares a glance at the Vandemeer booth as the houselights dim once again. Mimi’s back beside Alice. And Alice looks absolutely livid.
Cora turns her attention pointedly to the stage, roiling herself.
What does she expect me to do? Sprint away from present company all the way to the other box and tackle Mimi Vandemeer in plain view of the entire theater?
Actually, that may be exactly what Alice expects.
As the sunken orchestra jumps playfully into a jaunty tune, Carmen and her female friends process around the stage, dancing flirtatiously with the men seated around what looks to be an inn. Then there begins a sort of ballet in the style of bullfighters—the men showing off their youthful vigor to the women—before Carmen begins to sing her sultry song.
Cora’s cheeks grow hot in the dark, thoughts turning, of all things, to that night downtown with Dagmar. And... Cal Archer. She still cannot wrap her mind around the reality that he is Alice’s brother, who has been duping her all the while she thought she was duping him. She also cannot wrap her tangled mind around her feelings for him. Cal has no doubtbeen an unforeseen and welcome diversion to this whole undertaking—but he is also a liar.
Although, she supposes, that does make two of them.
In quieter moments, she’s taken to replaying every single interaction between them, searching for signs, moments she could consider a different way, like a gem that takes on new dimensions under the light.
