“Studying. I’m afraid I can’t ever seem to pull myself away from it,” he said, glancing up one last time before focusing on Grace. “Tell me, why were you so interested in the chandeliers when you first came into the theater?”
Grace shook her head.
“I’m not sure. I suppose it was because they seem so grand and I wasn’t expecting it. Why do you ask?”
“I’m planning on breaking ground on a new theater, over near Cowcaddens Cross, and I want it to be just as spectacular and grand, if not more so, than this theater.” He glanced at her. “And I should feel very blessed indeed if I could see the reaction I saw on your face tonight on the faces of my guests when it opens.”
Grace felt her cheeks warm once more.
“That’s very kind of you to say, Mr. Milton.”
He bobbed his head, but spoke no more of it.
“Are you enjoying the opera this evening? Or perhaps not, considering you’re out here.”
“I’ve been sent on a task for my aunt, who is trying to teach me a lesson.”
“Oh? What lesson is that?”
“Likely something about choices, I presume, but I won’t read too far into it.”
Mr. Milton chuckled and Grace felt a little bolstered by the noise, only to be distracted in the next moment. The faint aroma of lime swirled around her when a grave, familiar voice sounded behind them.
“Ahem.”
Turning around, not three steps above her and Mr. Milton, was Dr. Hall.
Chapter Eight
James stilled ashe glanced down the staircase to find Grace and a broad-shouldered gentleman, speaking with one another. Oddly, for a night that had been merely irritating, he was surprised to feel the muscles in his back tense and his heart rate increase, more so than his current aggravation seemed to warrant.
He hadn’t wanted to come to the opera tonight, but he had done so at the behest of Lady Belle, who had sent him a letter, requesting that he escort the elderly Baroness of Glengirth as a personal favor. Why he had agreed to it, when he had already done enough for that woman he did not know, but a deep, instinctual part of him couldn’t seem to ignore her. He blamed his own aunt, for having instilled in him a need to help those who requested it and his good deed had not gone unpunished. For the last two hours, his aging companion had complained about the noise of the crowd, the lack of vocal ranges of the entertainers, disparaged James’s upbringing as well as asked in an endless number of questions regarding the phantom pains the baroness was convinced she was suffering. Usually, James was more patient when someone was describing pains, but when the baroness revealed that they were actually the old riding injury suffered by her deceased husband, and how she believed they had been transferred to her by his ghost, well, that had been enough. He had very nearly told her that her imagination wasthe only illness she had when the old woman ordered him to find her a cool refreshment, right in the middle of the second act.
So, he had sighed and thanked whatever being above for the opportunity to escape for a few minutes. It was annoying, and yet, his irritation seemed to expand into a proper rage at the sight before him.
Grace was dressed in a gown of pale peach, covered in a sheer chocolate overlay, and James fought to swallow. He had seen her in practical dresses, but this was different. She had been styled with purpose. Dark brown curls were piled on top of her head, with one errant strand falling down at the side, just behind her left ear. Her long neck was exposed and the wide, scooping neckline displayed the roundedness of the top of her breasts.
James swallowed again.
Grace was wearing her usual smirk, the one that seemed perpetually on her lips, particularly whenever she was about to say something clever. He had come to expect it in the days since Grace had started coming to his office for work, yet to see her now, smiling at a man he did not know, well, if he didn’t know any better he might have guessed that the emotion he was experiencing at the moment was jealousy, but…
No. James was not jealous. Why should he be? Because Grace was smirking that same infuriating little grin that had seemed exclusively for him?
He took a step down, wanting very much to ignore the pair, but then stopped when her gaze met his and that irksome smile disappeared.
There was only a brief moment then, before the man noticed that he had lost Grace’s attention, where she stared at James, but he felt a deep, thunderous beat in his chest suddenly. It was singular yet profound, and for all his days to come, he knew it to be a pivotal moment in his life. But at that moment, all he couldcomprehend was that they saw each other and even that was almost too much.
The wide-shouldered gentleman turned then and to James’s surprise, he knew him.
“Dr. Hall!” Mr. Milton said, turning as he climbed the several steps that separated them. “I didn’t know you were in attendance tonight.”
“I…” He tried, his focus still on Grace, who appeared suddenly anxious. He blinked and turned to Milton. “I’m afraid I’ve been summoned tonight.”
“A better man I know not,” Mr. Milton said cheerfully as he turned back to Grace. “There was never a man more willing to toil in the muck and mire as Dr. Hall. Oh, forgive me, I haven’t introduced you. Dr. Hall, this is—”
“Grace Sharpe, yes,” he said as Grace slowly climbed the steps to meet them. “We know each other.”
“Do you?”
