Moira pursed her lips. “Perhaps. Please excuse me.” She strode off without another word.
“I refuse to believe most of the country thinks like her,” said Scarlett as they watched her go.
“Every day one of them dies and another young person becomes a voter who disagrees with her,” said Cass from behind them.
Scarlett snorted. “True. It’s just a matter of time.”
From the bar, they purchased champagne for Scarlett, a coffee for Cass, and a glass of red wine for Brayden, then they madetheir way up to their box. The view from the upper tier was breathtaking even to Scarlett, who’d seen it many times before. Brayden and Cass looked around in awe. It all dazzled—the red velvet seats, the gilded gold filigree covering the decorative molding, the chandelier that dangled from the end of an ornate globe in the center of the ceiling.
They settled in as Lord Buckland and Lord Garfield took the stage to give a quick speech about the veterans charity benefiting from the event, and then the performance began. It was the famous opera inspired by the Great War,The Sorrowful. With Brayden’s hand in hers, Scarlett sat attentive as the lead soprano strode onto the stage in period dress from two hundred years ago and belted out the famous opening number. Scarlett half listened to the familiar music while she daydreamed about what would happenafterthe performance.
At intermission, they exited their box and headed for the lobby. Lord and Lady Spencer emerged from a box a few doors down from theirs, followed by Alastair and a friend of his that Scarlett knew well: Rufus Hill, son of Lord Hill, a Goldenrod.
“Here we go,” Brayden whispered, tightening his grip on her hand.
Scarlett’s stomach clenched.Please, Goddess, let Alastair not act like an absolute cake tonight.
“Not likely,” said Nori.
“Oy, Scarlett.” Rufus waved.
“Hello, Rufus,” she said, willing herself to look friendly and relaxed.
“It’s Lady Heroux now, Rufus. You’d think your own father wasn’t a lord,” Elestine admonished. “Good evening, Lady Heroux and Lord Maddox.”
“Rufus, this is my husband, Lord Brayden Maddox, and my bodyguard, Cass.”
“Good evening.” Brayden shook hands with Edward Spencerand Rufus. Alastair was buried in his phone. Cass remained standing just behind them, her eyes scanning the theatergoers around them.
“Will either of you be changing your names?” asked Elestine.
Scarlett narrowed her eyes, surprised Elestine would ask them about that in public. But then she glanced at Brayden, who gave her a one-sided smirk as he waited for her reply, and she relaxed. If he was amused by the question, she had nothing to worry about and might as well have fun with it.
“I’m tempted to take Maddox as my name. But maybe we’ll hyphenate.” Scarlett shrugged and was rewarded with comically shocked stares from both Edward and Elestine, black smoke above their heads.
“Maybe I should become Brayden Heroux,” added Brayden.
Scarlett looked up at him adoringly.
Edward’s brow furrowed. “No rush to figure it out until a child’s on the way.”
Scarlett stared at Edward. Was hetryingto make them all as uncomfortable as possible?
“Shall we make our way to the lobby bar?” asked Alastair in a bored tone.
“Up for another drink?” Scarlett asked Brayden.
He murmured his agreement.
They followed Rufus and the Spencers downstairs. At the foot of the stairs, Elestine and Edward started toward the closest bar, next to an enormous marble statue of the three muses—the mythical patronesses of the arts in Soleil.
“Mother, Father,” called Alastair, bringing them to a halt. “The bartender at the bar near the entrance told me earlier they’ve got a thirty-year-old whiskey only at that particular bar.”
“Oh, excellent.” Edward went after Alastair.
“Well, I guess we’re off that way, dear.” Elestine grasped Scarlett’s hand before trailing after her family.
Scarlett’s shoulders relaxed as the Spencers disappeared to the other side of the lobby. “I don’t think Alastair even clocked who you were, Cass,” she said to her bodyguard.
