I hope our acceptance does not cause you to swoon.
Tristan chuckled to himself a few days later as he tied a fresh cravat in preparation for the evening. He’d never been overly anxious to attend the theater, but the last few days had passed in steadily increasing anticipation. When he brought round his carriage to fetch his guests, he didn’t need to travel far, for Berkeley Square was only a few streets away from his house.
“Didn’t take you to be a fan of the theater,” James said, waiting outside while his mother climbed into the carriage. “Thought you were more of a sporting man.”
Tristan didn’t intend to reveal that he had felt it would be a good avenue to spend time with Caroline so they could discuss their plans. James would think it meant something entirely different than the harmless evening he’d intended it to be.
“I love the theater,” Caroline said, passing both men and putting her gloved hand in Tristan’s. “Surely you must have remembered.”
Had he? Perhaps in the recesses of his mind that fact had laid dormant, but he had not actively recalled it when making his plans. It was as good a reason as any.
He helped her up into the carriage, both women sitting on the forward-facing bench, and the men taking the opposite.
“I’ve had a letter from your mother, Mr. Shepherd,” Mrs. Whitby said once the carriage rolled down the road, the cobbles under the wheels jostling them gently. “She told me of Charles’s new wife. Have you had the opportunity to meet her?”
“Only once, and it was very brief. I’m eager to spend more time in conversation with her. I leave tomorrow for Surrey for that very purpose.”
Caroline looked at him swiftly. “How long will you be gone?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
Was she disappointed? The words hung in the air between them until James broke the silence. “You will call to let us know when you’ve returned, I hope. I had a plan in mind for us.”
“Yes, I should like that.”
The conversation shifted to the play,Othello,they would be watching at the theater that evening. When they arrived and filed onto the steps of the theater, Mrs. Whitby immediatelytook her son’s arm, leaving Tristan to offer an elbow to Caroline. She took it, laying her graceful, gloved hand over his arm. Her burgundy cape covered her gown until they stepped inside, where he helped her remove it and leave it at the door.
The stunning white gown she wore cut close to her figure and was in such opposition to her dark hair as to make it deep and warm. Her blue eyes watched his reaction, and she lifted an eyebrow. “You flirt with your eyes as well as with your tongue, Tristan. Do you do it with intent?”
That was not flirting. It was raw appreciation, but he had a feeling she would not believe him. “Shall we?” he said instead.
She took his arm again as he led the group toward the stairs where their box was situated.
A voice called out in something of a whispering yell, stopping them in the middle of the entry hall. “Caro!”
She looked over her shoulder. “It’s Kitty. Do you mind if we greet her?”
“Not at all.”
“You look incredible,” Miss Fielding said, smiling broadly while she clutched Lord Bengard’s arm. Kitty wore a silk gown in pale yellow that revealed how slender she was, and large, gleaming diamonds around her neck.
“You are stunning,” Caroline returned.
James and Mrs. Whitby went on ahead, continuing to climb the stairs toward their box.
“Bengard,” Tristan said, bowing. They weren’t well acquainted, but he had heard enough stories about the man that it didn’t feel like a loss. “Have you met Miss Whitby?”
“I have not.” His voice was low, his height average. He bowed to her and she dipped in a slight curtsy. “Pleasure.”
“Lord Bengard has the grandest notion, Caro, but weought to be finding our box. Shall I come by tomorrow and tell you of it?”
Caroline glanced at Tristan before nodding. “That would be lovely.”
“I will see you then.” Miss Fielding’s face split into a grin as she allowed the viscount to lead her away.
Tristan walked behind them at a more sedate pace, allowing space to grow between the couples until they had caught up with the rest of their party and found their box. Mrs. Whitby and Caroline sat together in the front row of chairs, leaving Tristan to take the seat beside Caroline, and James to sit on the end. He tapped his toe restlessly, wishing Miss Fielding had revealed what Lord Bengard’s grand notion had been.
Knowing the man’s reputation, he had a feeling it wasn’t respectable.
