A woman appeared from behind him. She had bright red hair piled atop her head and wore a diaphanous gown that suited her perfectly. “MonsieurWhitman is not availablemaintenant.He is observinglerehearsal.” That the woman was French ought not to have surprised Diana. “Return tomorrow if you still wish to apply but come early.” Her instructions almost sounded like a dare.
“Very well.” Diana held out a gloved hand. “My name is Diana Jones, And you are…?”
“Claudette.” The woman ignored her hand and turned away, excusing her without so much as another word.
Collette, who’d held herself back while Diana made her inquiries, stepped up beside her and, gripping Diana’s elbow, tugged her toward the door where they’d entered.
“That wasn’t at all promising,” Collette muttered as they emerged into the sunshine again, bustling them back to the street so they could flag another hackney. “If we hurry, we’ll still have plenty of time to dress for the Ravensdale’s ball.”
The ball. TheTon. Byrd House.
“Do you think Chaswick is going to be angry?” Diana asked.
With all the apprehension of journeying to the theater behind her, the consequences of sneaking out of Byrd house to avoid Zeke’s proposal loomed ominously.
Because Diana conceded as she waved frantically for the approaching black vehicle to stop…
She couldn’t avoid him forever.
