However, on the carriage ride to the opera house, Tristan mentioned it to her, to her amazement.
“I am surprised that you have no curiosity as to where I have been today,” he remarked.
Madeline eyed him. “I have no interest. I have guessed where you were.”
Inside, her heart was thumping.
What are you thinking? Your mother is right here, sitting and smiling in the corner of the carriage! How dare you reference your mistress after all she said to me about what a good, honorable man you are?
Anger swept through her. He had no right to have such a wonderful mother as Dorothea. Madeline had no mother. She would have liked one very much. Mothers could make life in society pass much more smoothly. Poor Papa had tried his best, but that didn’t stop Madeline from sometimes feeling very estranged from the rest of the world. Other girls relied on their mamas for everything, and Madeline had often wondered what her life would have been like with two loving parents.
No, that wasn’t fair; not with Papa being as wonderful as he was.
Tristan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, bringing her abruptly back to the present.
“I thought you might be interested then. Since you have already guessed.”
What was that supposed to mean? Madeline tried not to think of it. She sniffed.
“No, thank you.”
Tristan eyed her for a moment, then grunted, leaning back. “As you like, then.”
The carriage trundled on, and silence descended. Madeline shifted uneasily in her seat. Dorothea seemed entirely content with the silence, staring happily out of the window at the dark landscape flashing by.
It occurred to Madeline, somewhat uneasily, that she had not properly met Tristan’s cousin. Lord James Lovell was a decent sort of man, she was sure, but this was the first gathering that would be just the four of them.
Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later,she thought wryly.
The carriage rolled to a halt outside the opera house, and an attendant hurried out to open the door. The three of them hurried inside, keen to get out of the cold. At the door, another attendant took Madeline’s wrap. She felt rather exposed without it, really.
She was wearing one of the new gowns Tristan had bought her, a deep purple dress studded with pearls and with a low, scooped neckline that just about showed off the tops of her breasts. It was notdisgraceful,exactly, but it was certainly a little scandalous.
Surely there were worse things in the world than being scandalous, however. Besides, there was a matching pearl jewelry set to go with the dress.
“You look lovely, darling,” Dorothea cooed, beaming at her. “Oh, and here comes James!”
The tall, puppy-eyed Lord Lovell came trundling down the velvet-carpeted hall toward them, beaming.
“Here you all are, and just in time!” he exclaimed. “Heavens, Madeline, you look ravishing! My compliments, Tristan.”
Tristan gave a low growl in his throat. “Careful, James. I am not in the mood for joking tonight.”
“You never are,” James chuckled. “Come on, ladies, let’s go up to my box. The show will start shortly.”
He offered one arm to Dorothea and one to Madeline. She took his arm somewhat hesitantly, and he escorted them along the hallway, talking and laughing.
James had said the opera would start soon, but apparently his idea of soon was a full half-hour. Not that Madeline minded, of course. He chattered and laughed and told such amusing stories that she found herself relaxing, and did not worry at all about her exposed shoulders now that her wrap was gone.
The box contained four seats, deep and comfortable, angled neatly toward the curtained stage. Other identical boxes studded the upper floors of the theater, with a mass of heaving people and chairs clustering below. Madeline peered over the railings in one rare lull in conversation, watching people move. They were commoners, of course, people who could only afford the cheapest tickets and did not keep boxes.
That fact did not seem to dim their excitement. A smile spread over her face as she watched. A gentleman hustled his wife and a pack of children along, not unlike a hen hustling her chicks. They all wore their Sunday best, and it was clear that this outing was a special treat. The smiles on their faces underlined that fact.
She saw more scenes like this—a pair of ladies, clearly friends, walked arm in arm, excitedly talking to each other. A group of gentlemen had their heads bent together, talking eagerly over something or other. A drunk-looking man pinched an orange-seller on the behind, and she smoothly turned around and delivered a cracking punch to his jaw, which knocked him out cold.
“What are you looking at?”
She flinched at Tristan’s voice, warm in her ear.
