‘I wish I could, but I’m promised for the quadrille,’ the captain returned with one of his dazzling smiles. ‘My friends would be honoured to make up a four, though, if that would be agreeable? Lady Aurelia, Mrs Smith, it has been a pleasure.’
Phoebe sunk into another curtsey as the charming soldier made his parting bow, exhaling beneath her breath.
‘Well then, who’s for a round of faro?’ Aurelia exclaimed, all her previous cares seemingly forgotten.
‘But, don’t you also wish to return to the dancing?’ Phoebe attempted, the bustling Assembly Room holding considerable new appeal.
She was suddenly and glaringly aware that if the captain was at the Ball, then the viscount could be, too, and she would be far better off in the busy Assembly Room than a quiet corridor.
‘Heavens alive, no! That’s the last place I wish to go!’ Aurelia rolled her eyes as she led the way to one of the private card rooms. ‘There’re far too many boring people when mynewfavourites are right here! Now do let’s go, before someone else takes the table…’
The soldiers, introducing themselves as Smithfield and Brent, didn’t need a second invitation and reluctantly, Phoebe accompanied them.
‘What about stakes?’ Smithfield asked, with hair that reminded Phoebe forcibly of a mop.
‘I don’t play too deep with the ladies, don’t like to steal their pin money!’ he added before turning to guffaw with his friend for far longer than was necessary.
Aurelia closed the door with a smile.
‘Oh, don’t you worry about that,’ she returned, a glint in her eye. ‘I never play for money!’
‘Then, what do we play for?’ Phoebe frowned, worrying how long her disguise would last at these close quarters.
‘I can think ofa fewoptions,’ Aurelia smiled coquettishly. ‘But for today, how about a Question or Command?’
The soldiers started to grin, while Phoebe stared doubtfully into Aurelia’s narrowed eyes. Firstly, she’d closed the door, which didn’t seem awfully proper at an Assembly Ball; secondly, she’d downed two drinks quite swiftly, and Phoebe could still recall the ill effects of Briggs’s devil’s brew with alarming clarity; and thirdly, while she rather enjoyed Questions and Commands at home, it could prove rather challenging forMrs-Mary-Smith-younger-cousin-to theatrical-darling-Sarah-Siddons.
Yet, Aurelia had offered the hand of friendship, and wasn’t the purpose of the evening to enjoy some freedom? To experience a little of Bath life before everything changed?
She shook back her sleeve frills with determination – unlike Thomas, she rarely lost at faro.
Phoebe began losing straight away. It wasn’t so much bad luck, as the fact that the soldier with the mop-head kept shuffling his seat towards her, which ruined her concentration.
‘I’ll take a question,’ she conceded when the first game was lost, certain it had to be better than a command.
Mop-head smiled.
‘Certainly… Have you been widowed long, Mrs Smith?’ he asked in a foppish tone.
‘Pooh! Mary doesn’t wish to answer boring questions about her dead husband!’ Aurelia pouted. ‘Her cousin is a famous actress! And everyone knows actresses live the most exciting lives!’ Her eyes lit up as she leant forward and lowered her voice. ‘They go to all the best soirees, wear the latest French fashion and have as many secretliaisonsas they wish!’
She paused to titter into her sherry.
‘So I think Mary must have many daring stories to tell,’ she continued, her eyes gleaming. ‘And better questions might be… Did you ever join your cousin on the stage? Fight a valiant duel? Kiss a prince perhaps?!’
She emptied her glass, as Phoebe forced all persistent and vexing thoughts of the highwayman and the viscount from her head.
‘Yes, do tell us about your theatrical exploits, Mary,’ the mop-head soldier leered suddenly, closing his hand over hers. ‘Especially those involvingsoireesandsecretliaisons…’
He paused to guffaw as Phoebe recoiled, and retrieved her hand.
‘That’s three questions!’ She objected, decidedly grateful she’d not opted for a command.
‘My game, my rules!’ Aurelia flashed, refilling her glass once again.
‘Well, I might have performed in afewproductions,’ Phoebe conceded slowly, grateful none of them had actually witnessed Fairfax Theatrical Company’s production ofHamlet, when Sophie’s raft ran aground and Ophelia’s deathbed became a decidedly muddy affair, ‘… and fought a duel…’ The moment Sarah Siddons’s blade chose to take flight, flew through her head. ‘Andworn miracle trousers – which, I assure you, are far more exciting than all the French fashion in the world! You don’t know how lucky you are,’ she added, side-eyeing mop-head.
‘I knew it as soon as I saw you!’ Aurelia exclaimed, reaching for another drink. ‘You have the look of an adventurer! But what of kissing princes? Or kissing anyone? I’m in favour of kissing generally, you see.’
