“Don’t accept a penny less than five hundred.”
“And generous, too.” Her earlier reservations eased, and she gave him a winning smile. Five hundred pounds did not a generous dowry make, and she needed to commission new gowns for the remainder of the Season, but it was a start. “You have my gratitude.”
“Not at all.” Sir Percy held out his arm. “Shall we? The opera awaits, my lady.”
The night was warm, heralding summer, and she toyed with the edge of her wrap as she followed him out to his waiting carriage. For all they had been friends these past fifteen years, his relationship with his wife was a mystery that confounded Caroline.
Sir Percy had been the one to pursue her; she was almost twenty years his junior and had not wished to be married.Her mother insisted, however, and married they were. Deluded, perhaps, by the force of his affection, he had believed his love would bring her around to loving him in return, but she had never been anything but cold towards him. Now, rumour had it that she had another lover. And so, instead of confronting her about it, Sir Percy had retaliated by enlisting her to make the girl jealous.
A fool.
But a kind one, a generous one, and one Caroline deeply wished to see happy.
“We might be late,” he said, checking his pocket watch. “I’d hoped to be established for when she arrives.”
“Nonsense,” she said, taking a hand to her curls and mussing them somewhat. “If we arrive late, she will only assume it’s because you rose from my bed too late.”
“Ifshe notices once the curtain is up.”
“A lady always notices when her husband is accompanying another woman to the opera.”
“Even when she is herself accompanied by a dashing young man?”
“You are perfectly dashing,” she said firmly. “And I am positively notorious. The combination will not escape her, I assure you.” Ladies such as Lady Cecily Somerville always sought the company of the most fashionable young gentleman. Caroline knew—she had once been just like her. But no matter how difficult their home life, she strongly believed that even a young wife could not be blind to Sir Percy’s handsomeness. In his early forties, he was perhaps a little greying around the ears, but nature had blessed him with charm and an excellent figure.
There was a time when Caroline might have been tempted to make a move. But disastrously in love as he was, he had eyes for no one but the flame-haired beauty he had married.
And now, the temptation had escaped her too, replaced by a frustratingly handsome man who had pinned her against the wall and recited poetry in her ear as he sank into her.
At the thought, her stomach tightened.
Really, it was his fault that she had not found another lover; what other gentleman could live up to the erotic imagery that George Comerford had left behind like a flare of light against closed eyelids? He was a firework in the dark—no candle could compare.
At least Sir Percy would expect nothing from her but light, meaningless flirtation.
He did not have one of the upper tier boxes in the opera, but they were nevertheless high enough to watch the glittering of the enormous chandelier. Candlelight reflected off the gilding in a way that seemed almost magical; for a moment, she was young again, the glamour of the city easing her heartbreak.
Sir Percy leant in, his mouth brushing the shell of her ear. “Do you see her?”
“Of course.” Cecily was sitting in the box almost directly opposite, her red hair catching in the light. Much as she was sympathetic to Sir Percy’s plight, Caroline felt a little for the beautiful young woman who had been so adamant against accepting her husband’s proposal. It was no fun thing to be forced into marriage.
Sir Percy had been smitten enough to think that his love would be enough. Caroline could have told him otherwise.
“She’s watching us,” Caroline said, leaning in, her breasts brushing his arm. “And no doubt she assumes the worst.”
“Good.” There was no satisfaction in his voice, merely grim pain. “Perhaps when she comes home tonight, she might speak to me.”
Caroline tilted her head, ringlets brushing the bare skin of her neck as she considered him. “And you believe this is truly the best way to win her back?”
“I’ve tried reasoning with her to no avail. What else am I supposed to do?”
Caroline looked at the young lady in the other box. They were too far apart to make out much other than the fiery hair, but she suspected there was a mulish cast to her jaw. “You could be patient and give her space.”
“And watch her flaunt her beaus across London?”
She looked at him pointedly, and he gave a wry, crooked smile. “Yes, I’m aware I’m doing precisely the same thing.”
“Well, we are making her jealous, at least.” She gave him an adoring smile, but before she could see what effect that might have had, her gaze snagged on a gentleman standing in the pit and staring at her.
