Rollands nodded and backed out of the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She refused to think anything negative about Oliver, not unless it was proven to be otherwise. Still, what would make a man act in such a manner if not to deceive? He was already deceiving thetonby hiding his financial standing. She could not fault him for that. What was it that bothered her so much about his actions? He was entitled to do what he wished with the money he won from the wagers. If pride was stopping him from collecting his winnings, who was she to tell him otherwise?
She shook her head and stood. It was time to get ready.
It was too important a night to be worrying about Bellamy or his pride.
*
Lisbeth was beautypersonified tonight, Oliver thought. She was wearing a bright crimson evening gown that highlighted the flawless expanse of flesh at her neck and shoulders. A most wonderful set of rubies and diamonds adorned her ears andthroat. This was quite noticeable considering she usually only wore a small golden cross and a pair of golden earrings.
His eyes hurt from looking at her, trying to keep this image stored away in his brain. She was like a goddess come to steal his soul. He could hardly breathe for the effort of suppressing his desire for her. She had even smiled at him. It had been more than a smile but not quite a grin. It was an odd experience that he wanted to re-live over and over until the end of his days.
He could not say with any certainty what was going on in her head but there was a certain agitation or excitement around her tonight that was unnerving. She was always such a picture of stillness, but tonight she fidgeted, sighed, and spent a lot of the trip to the opera with her gaze out the window. What was she thinking? He wished she was thinking about him.
When the carriage jerked to a halt her eyes flew wide open and focused on him. He expected her to pull out her pocket watch, but she did not. He expected her to pull out her schedule, but that did not come out of her reticule either.Interesting.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” he reassured her.
“Of course.” She smiled at him again.
It was dazzling, sent his heart thudding, and made his mouth dry. Oliver stuck his head out the window. One, to gain some air and restore his equilibrium and two, to briefly ascertain where they were.
“I’m afraid it may be a bit of a wait,” he said. “The usual crush has started, and it could be a half hour before we get anywhere near the steps.”
“That is fine. We will wait.” She placed her hands back in her lap and looked out the window again. “The city looks so pretty at night. You can’t see the dirt and despair for all the twinkling lights and stars.”
“You may not be able to see the dirt, but you can still smell it.” He looked out the window again. “We could get out here and be inside before the champagne runs out,” he offered.
Her eyes returned to him. “Really, Bellamy, is that all you think about?” Then she did the most amazing thing. She laughed. A sweet, tinkling sound. It vibrated merrily around the interior of their carriage like bird song. “Donotanswer that question,” she quickly added.
“Come on, it shall be an adventure.” He needed to put some space between them before he leaped across the carriage and kissed her senseless.
Lisbeth shook her head at him. “My gown will be ruined and no doubt you are hoping I shall trip and break an ankle on the way so you have an excuse not to go.”
It was his turn to smile. “I would never do such a thing. I am actually looking forward toFigaro Gets Married.”
“That is theMarriage of Figaroand we are seeingDon Giovanniwhich I suspect you know and are playing the fool just to tease me. I think I am beginning to see through your ploys, Bellamy.”
He laughed. “So you are, Countess, so you are.”
Lisbeth may have seen through this particular ploy of his, but she was far from figuring him out completely. There was much to learn about this man, and she hoped to start tonight if all went well with her sister.
The house lights were blazing when their carriage finally made it to the steps. A cacophony of gaiety and excited conversation spilled out onto the stairs leading to the Opera House. Ladies in their finery displayed gowns hemmed in gold. Intricate beading adorned their dresses, shot through with silver thread and precious gems. Their gowns were made from various exotic materials sourced from far-flung corners by means better worth ignoring.
The picture was dazzling and confronting. The poorest of lords and the richest of merchants vied alike for the right to be most envied when really all they did was envy each other. One, for the riches a title could not guarantee, and the other, the social acceptance that only marrying a title could bring. And so, publicly, they politely excused each other’s faults for their own ends while secretly hating each other as only rivals can.
Here, in this place where the entertainment was only as important as the people who attended it, Lisbeth hoped for a new beginning. To once again have the warmth of her sister’s smile fall upon her.
Marie’s new husband, Lord Fenwick, had looked handsome enough when she had watched them emerge from the church a married couple, but Lisbeth knew not whether this man was worthy of her wonderful and generous sister’s heart. She hoped tonight to find the answer.
If she could only put her mind at rest and be assured of her sister’s happiness, all then would be well. Nerves made her stomach lurch and her head ache. If only she could be confident of her sister’s welcome. Better still, if only she could turn back the clock and make things right. Never marry Nathaniel or leave the security of her family. Regrets, she knew, were a waste of time. In order to make her life worth living, she could depend on no one but herself. After all, she could blame no one but herself for marrying Nathaniel in the first place.
Thetonhad become accustomed to Lisbeth’s attendance to their varied entertainments but still there was a mixed reaction among the crowd who gathered in the foyer drinking their champagne and showing off their precious assets, whatever they may be. Lisbeth simply sailed on regardless. It would take a Spanish armada to stop her from seeing her sister tonight.
Oliver felt a certain sort of angst come over him. He knew what it was, he could smell it—danger. Someone was notparticularly happy about the Countess of Blackhurst being here tonight. He scanned the crowd but could see no one being specifically aggressive. Still, the feeling nagged and niggled at him, and he wished he had brought a weapon with him. A small dagger would have been sufficient.
It was strange, for this was the first time he had felt this way and he had escorted her to many functions over the last few weeks. Not even that very first night at Wainwright’s had he felt any need to be wary. Why was tonight so different?
He picked up a glass of champagne and handed it to Lisbeth, looking fleetingly her way.
